Page 13 of Cutter

Protocol and established tradition demanded that MCs settling in a new area researched said area and asked permission if the move encroached on an established MC’s territory or else risk a conflict.

Making the situation even more irritating, the Chaos had expected to meet in church.

No, sir. Only his brothers convened in church.

Diesel’s opening salvo to Blade had been enough to set Cutter’s teeth on edge,

“I’ll be honest. A call to appear before a minor MC don’t sit right with the Sons of Chaos.”

Blade had come back with an insult of his own,“Looks like the Sons of Chaos are clinging to an importance held in the old neighborhood. That importance is long past. You’re in Garden City, longtime turf of the Devils’ Spawn. No one knows you here. Ignoring this summons to show would’ve been rude and interpreted as hostile. Not only to us, but to neighboring MCs as well. A bad way to start. Wouldn’t you say?”

“If that’s how you’d like to take it,”Diesel retorted.“We’re not afraid of confrontations.”

“And neither are we,”Blade countered.“We’d happily oblige.”

The tense back-and-forth continued.

One would think the Chaos was the affronted MC. Had it not been for Blade’s side glances and silent messages asking Cutter for patience, he would’ve kicked them out on their asses.

And this little joy ride they were on toward the Dirt Road Saloon made every hair on his body stand on end. He hoped Blade’s motivation to accept Diesel’s invitation into his club’s hangout had to do with Cutter’s mission of infiltrating their ranks. Especially when the Chaos three hadn’t humbled themselves enough. For all Cutter knew, an ambush awaited them—the reason why he’d quietly tucked his SIG into the waistband of his jeans. At least the present formation—club officers riding the front door and Cutter in the tail gunner position—gave him a measure of control. Anyone tried to attack Blade, he’d happily send them on a one-way ticket to Hell.

The bar didn’t seem too crowded when their group pulled in. Four choppers were parked out front, and that relaxed him a little. By all appearances, the Chaos’s invitation to have a few beers to cement their amicable crossover negotiations seemed sincere. Didn’t matter. Cutter wouldn’t relax or take a deepbreath until his guys were safely back at their own clubhouse. The minute they went inside, he intended to text Johnny Gun and Barron to come over. If this was a joint celebration, why not invite two more Spawn to the party? An even-out-the-odds sort of thing.

Once Diesel, the Chaos president, parked his bike, he waved at the group to follow him into the bar. Despite the overall gloomy interior, his silver hair served as a beacon for the rest. He shook two fingers at the bartender as he passed, then continued to the back corner, where an empty table large enough for eight people waited for their arrival.

“Did you make reservations?” Blade snickered.

“Funny guy.” Letting out an icy laugh, Diesel sat with his back to the wall. “This is my spot. From here, I can see everyone who comes and goes. I don’t like surprises.”

“No Wild Bill Hickok mistake,” Blade said, sitting on the chair next to Diesel.

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Him. Shot in the back,” Diesel responded.

Although Blade also faced the front door, Cutter worried his friend could be blocked in this inside position. Instead of joining the group at the table, Cutter stood against the wall. Tension between the two MC presidents was palpable, and he needed to stay loose and ready for anything.

Diesel’s brow tightened. “What the fuck’s the deal with your security guy? Is he too good for us or what?”

“That ain’t it,” Blade replied. “Cutter takes his job seriously. Unfamiliar places make him nervous.”

“I see,” Diesel said. “We invited you guys to the Dirt Road because this bar is our home. You have my personal guarantee it’s secure. We don’t allow cops or outsiders in here. I hope your man can relax.”

“He will. Give him a few minutes.” Blade jutted his chin at Beast, sitting at the corner. “Doesn’t he act the same way?”

Diesel pointed at his man. “Beast? Damned right, he does. He’s a paranoid motherfucker.”

“Yeah, but that paranoia makes them the best enforcers,” Blade said. “Send Cutter to the bar for drinks. That’ll give him a chance to scope out the place and confirm there’s nothing to worry about.”

“Sounds reasonable,” Diesel said. “Hey, Cutter, would you get us some beers?”

“’Kay,” Cutter grunted with a nod.

Diesel continued, “Will, the bartender, knows what we drink. Tell him to send over a pitcher. And order whatever you want for your guys. It’s on us.”

Giving a quick bow, Cutter moved toward the bar at a slow pace, checking every corner.

The room was almost empty. The owners of the four parked choppers were heavy into their pool game. The question for him was, how long before the evening crowds jammed up the place? He didn’t want to be here when that happened. While he chewed on that question, he cautioned himself to bring the suspicious behavior down a notch. Do a better job of camouflaging his true feelings. In order to infiltrate the Chaos and be invited to their events and parties and come back to the bar unannounced and without raising questions, he had to win over the members.

Diesel was at the top of the list.

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