Page 2 of Wire

I want to be the opposite of myself so I choose a huge troll avatar. I give him long black hair and a nose ring. I finish up with spiky armor and then my avatar gets dropped into the village where my campaign is going to start. A flashing box in the corner of my screen catches my eye so I click on it. A message pops up from an elf character with a single word:

St_Margarita: Hi.

Chapter One

St_Margarita: Hi.

Beretta_Penn: Hi.

St_Margarita: Wanna campaign together? I need a troll.

Beretta_Penn: K. Let’s go, Elf.

Wire

“Church!”

Marx’s bellow sounds out down the hallway, snapping me out of my work, which is probably a good thing. I’ve been sitting in my fancy office chair for far too many hours. Even though the MC sprung for the most ergonomic chair we could find, I don’t think it’s meant for a 6’3 250 lb man to sit in it for hours on end.

“Booooooo!” comes drifting out of my closet. On my way past I open the door and peek in, finding Chewy sitting on the floor cross-legged. “When do you think I’ll get an invite? I have so many good ideas for new businesses and ways to really enhance what we’ve got going on. Not to mention I have the best critical thinking skills of everyone here.”

Shaking my head at her, I roll my eyes, “Maybe one day Chewy Girl. But not today,” I smirk as she boo’s me again and I gently close the door on her. Who knows how long she’ll be in there? Of all the places for quiet time, she commandeered my closet. Not that it bothers me. I’ll do anything I can to help my brother’s Ol Lady feel calm and happy.

My “control center” is the furthest away from Church, so I have to leg it down the hall to get there in time. Thanks to Fox and Nitro always being late, we now get fined for being the last one in.

Meeting Rider in the doorway, I shove him to get in first, falling into my chair as he trips me up. He may be one of my closest brothers, but he’s still a fucker. He smirks as he takes the seat next to mine. We’re just a small MC. At present, we have a dozen members and two prospects. Obviously, they aren’t allowed into Church just yet. I would imagine one is on gate duty and the other will be tidying the bar, ordering supplies. All hell would break loose if we ran out of booze.

Seated around the large oval table we use for church, I see as per usual, we are waiting for Fox and Nitro. No surprise. They both work off-site in one of the garages in town and if they’re not doing that, they’re busy fucking a bunny. We all know they won’t leave before getting their rocks off.

“I’ll give them five minutes and if they’re not here, I’m locking those fucking doors,” Pres growls out.

I don’t know if he’s noticed this yet or not, but there are looks of glee going around the table. Marx sits at the head as Pres. One of my best friends, Rhodie, sits next to him as our enforcer; Rider on the other side as our SAA. I’m the secretary given that I’m always on my computers and have apps out the ass keeping track of all our shit. The rest of the brothers are dotted around the table, eagerly awaiting our last two.

“We’re here! Shit, we’re here!” Fox and Nitro come barreling into Church stinking of Whitney’s perfume. The room erupts into laughter as we see Fox’s soft cock hanging out of his zipper.

“Fuck’s sake! Put it away, sit down and you’re both fined $100. I swear to God you better be here early next time or else you’re on toilet duty for the month,” Marx seethes, then slams his gavel, getting business started.

I’m a little intrigued to see what this meeting is about. This isn’t our usual church day, so something must have come up.

“Savage has asked a favor, and I want to run it by you all before we decide.”

The brothers all sit a little straighter in their seats. A favor for the other MC could mean anything. Savage’s MC, the Death Riders, has their territory two towns over, around two hours away. For the past few months, we’ve been allies, although it hasn’t always been like that. Death Riders, until recently, have always been a 1% club. Our MC, on the other hand, has always been a safe space for ex-military men to find solace and brotherhood.

“What’s the favor?” Switch booms out, making me shrink into myself a little. The guy is so fucking loud. I feel sorry for his patients when he’s working at the local hospital. There is no confidentiality when that bastard is yelling your diagnosis at you.

“Savage doesn’t have a computer tech. He’s been using Wire or Chewy for all background checks, security, and shit.” Marx answers, nodding in my direction. “He wants to send us one of his to learn the ins and outs. This will affect you, Wire, and maybe even Chewy, because we all know she won’t sit this out.”

Chuckling goes around the room, everyone knowing exactly what Chewy is like.

“Who’s he sending? I’m not having any random fucker near my Ol Lady,” Rhodie grits out. And with good reason. Ol Ladiesare fucking special. I don’t have a woman, but if I did, I wouldn’t want any random fucker near her either. It may make us sound like cavemen, but fuck it. We don’t care.

“You know his stand-in VP, Flack? His daughter.” Eyebrows raise at this.

A few months ago, Savage staged a coup and got rid of the old Death Riders’ Pres. He’s making steps to go straight, and he’s been working hard on that even though half his crew tried to shit all over his plans. He cleaned house with support from the original VP, Flack, who agreed to stay on until Savage could replace him.

“Wire, what do you know about Flack?” Marx turns his dark gaze to me. Tapping away at my ever-present laptop, I pull up the personnel files I have on all the members of the Death Riders. There was no way we were going to ally ourselves with another club without doing some research on them.

“Paul ‘Flack’ Wright. Legacy member. His father was a founding member back in the day before the club turned, so I can see why he supported Savage’s decision to go legit. Has two daughters, Sunny and Remy. Both raised by him. Sunny is a trained chef, heading the new restaurant the club has opened. Remy is a librarian.”

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