Page 8 of Sweet Pea

Sweet Pea

I sat on my bike and stared at Callie Ames’s business card, trying to make sense of what the fuck had just happened. My identity wasn’t exactly a state secret, but given my personal family history, it wasn’t like I was public about it either. Apart from my brother, Ropes, my family was dead as fucking doornails to me. The same went for the Kimble name. Sweet Pea was all anyone had ever called me since arriving in Portland over ten years ago. Cutter had given me the name before I was even a prospect.

Clutch answered my call right away. “You change your mind about the heavy bag?”

“What? No, I’m cool. Listen,” I continued. “Something interesting just happened, but I don’t wanna say anything more over the phone. Can you meet me at Sally Anne’s in twenty minutes?”

“I’ll change and meet you there,” Clutch said, and hung up.

I fired up my bike and headed for Sally Anne’s. The plan was to meet with Clutch and fill him in on my conversation with Callie before she and I met for drinks. I figured if I was on some lawyer’s radar, that meant heat on the club which was the last thing we needed right now. This could also be nothing, but since I wasn’t sure what was what yet, I figured I’d run it by Clutch before bothering Minus. God knows he had enough on his plate right now.

Our club was on the verge of a major turf war with the Gresham Spiders, who were looking to expand the size of their web. The Spiders were as dangerous as clubs came, and they both outgunned and outnumbered us. Minus had already gathered the support of just about every other local MC in hopes that the Spiders would back off, but we had no idea how they’d respond to our show of force. Before going to the joint, the Spiders’ President, Char, poached my old Road Captain, Wolf, to act as the Spiders’ President while he was locked up. The whole situation was as volatile as a powder keg in a fucking match factory.

I was so preoccupied with my thoughts that I’d ridden to Sally Anne’s completely on autopilot. It was the second time today I’d totally blanked out. First in the courtroom after Knight’s verdict was read and now during my ride. I made a mental note of the date and promised myself I’d talk to Ropes about it as soon as possible.

“Hey there, Sweetie Peaty,” Sally Anne’s familiar rasp sang out as soon as I entered the bar.

“How you doin’, gorgeous?” I replied with a smile.

“Still waitin’ for you to make an honest woman outta me,” Sally Anne said as she pulled the tap handle of my favorite local brew.

There were only a few patrons in the place, and currently no other Saints were present, but it was still early.

“You greet me with a beer like that every time I come through the door and I just might change my mind about marriage,” I said.

Sally Anne grinned wickedly. “Honey, I’d greet you with a hell of a lot more than a beer every night if we were hitched.”

“What makes you think I could keep up with you?” I asked, playfully.

“Who says I think you could? I’d chop you down like a big ol’ oak tree, baby.”

I laughed and took a pull from my beer just as Clutch walked up to the bar.

“What’s going on?” Clutch asked, wasting no time on pleasantries.

“Let’s go sit down,” I said motioning to the club’s private table as Sally Anne handed him a tall glass filled with ice and clear liquid. “Vodka and soda?” I asked, surprised at Clutch’s drink of choice.

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