Page 23 of Thunder

“Okay, listen up, now that all other business is out of the way, got a brother with a different kind of brother who’s got issue that could impact the club. Thunder?”

When Granite conceded the floor to him, he groaned before speaking. Speaking hurt like hell, but so did blinking. He might as well just rip it off like a bandage.

“Served with Flash for years. He was on my crew for two of my deployments. There with me when Heisman died. Showed up looking for me. Pretty sure he was high as a fucking kite. Said he was passing through, wanted to catch up. That was bullshit. Man never could lie for shit.”

Thunder had to stop a grin at a memory.

“Anyway, he’s apparently been passing through for a while. Had Whiskey pull in a favor. He’s been picked up on petty drug charges too many times to be passing through. Last charge had him on lock for a year. My guess is he got clean inside and his upline didn’t like that, so they hit him with stronger shit when he got out. Put him back out there dealing to pay for his habit.”

They were all aware how dealers worked. “Problem is, deep down he wants to be clean, just can’t find his way out of the hole to do it. And I don’t mean just the one his lowlife supplier is creating.”

Most of the men sitting at the table knew exactly what Thunder meant without further explanation. Most of them had been there themselves whether their drug of choice was alcohol, women, pushing people away because they felt unworthy, or a combo of all three with something else tossed in for flavor.

If it hadn’t been for the brotherhood they’d formed with the men they served with or the brothers of the Phantoms, most of ‘em would’ve never made it out of that fucking deep dark hole.

“He’s over with Sully now, in Bullseye’s old place. He has a real shot at cleaning himself up there. That leaves us to deal with his upline.” Thunder let his words hang in the air and waited. It didn’t take long for everyone gathered at the table to figure out what Thunder, Whiskey, and Granite already knew.

“No?” Priest said in disbelief.

He was almost drowned out but Taps groaning, “Fuck me sideways, Rainbow Bob?”

And Trip shouting, “Goddammit.”

“Yep, Rainbow fucking Bob.” They’d dealt with him in the past and let him off easy. Mostly because he was just dealing weed, hell, they’d bought weed from him in bulk before it was legal. After that though, he moved on to harder shit and meaner suppliers. Still, they’d been hesitant to really hit him hard. Partly because he was mostly dealing to tourists and stayed away from their turf. “But, I think the supply is coming in from the Demon Sidewinders out of Arizona. That or someone is copying their mark.”

“Yeah,” Granite took over. “The Demon Sidewinders will have to keep. A problem for another day, so to speak. We need to worry about home. We should’ve sent Bob a stronger message when we caught him dealing with those fucking Enforcers. That’s on me, I underestimated him. Thought he was just a small-time dealer. Had Whiskey and Trip work some contacts and keyboards. Rainbow Bob has moved up in the world. Got in with some chick who’s known on the street as Petty. She is probably the one linked to the MC. With so little, they turned up shit. It’s like she just appeared out of nowhere.”

Granite ran his hand down his beard in frustration or contemplation or both. “We all know that’s bullshit. Everyone has a past, I want y’all thinking about that. Got a customer who looks like the type who might know something, maybe feel them out. Be casual, don’t make it obvious we’re looking for her or interested in the Demon Sidewinders, or Petty and Bob will go prairie dog on us. We need to find someone who knows something. Until then, well, there isn’t much we can do for Flash to clear up the problem Sully hasn’t got covered.”

They all grunted and nodded in agreement. Thunder was glad he didn’t have to worry about Flash. He was in good hands. If anyone could get him on the right path, it was Sully.

“Thunder, anything else we need to know?”

What the fuck?

“We dragging personal lives to the table now?” Thunder did not want to discuss Andrea. His gut was already in knots, and not just because of the whiskey he’d put away. But because he’d let his anger control his words.

Taps leaned over to Priest, and stage whispered. “I thought getting laid mellowed you out? I guess it doesn’t work so well when they flee from your room naked rather than spend another minute in your presence.”

Thunder stood and was a fucking cunt hair away from leaping over the table and knocking Taps the fuck out.

“You both need to remember where the fuck you are.” Pound’s voice cut through the tension.

Granite leaned forward. “Thunder, check your attitude and consider who you’re talking to. I was asking about info on Flash or any connections, but it seems I struck a fucking nerve.”

Granite’s voice was hard as, well, granite. He may have a different leadership style and ideas about the club that were unconventional, but respect wasn’t one. Thunder knew he crossed the line before the words ever left his fucking mouth, but he’d knee jerked.

“Sorry, Prez. Won’t happen again.” A quick nod from his president was both acceptance of his apology and a command to take a seat.

“If we’re done with business, let’s get out there and have a drink.” Granite raised his gavel and shouted, “Phantoms!” calling for the informal short toast.

“My blood, my brothers, my life.” The brothers’ voices rose in unison, save for one. A lone voice responded with, “Only your girlfriends see us coming.” Taps was rarely serious. But when he was, it was scarier than shit. Granite just rolled his eyes and dropped the gavel. As most of the brothers shuffled out, Trixie sauntered in with a tray of beer and shots. Blast hot on her heels.

When the clubhouse was just brothers and club girls, they used church to hang out after meetings. Today, however, Thunder didn’t plan to hang out anywhere except his bed. Before he could take his leave, Pound clapped him on the shoulder and placed a beer and a shot in front of him. “Hair of the dog,” he announced as he dropped into the vacant chair next to him. Staying for a drink wasn’t a suggestion from his veep, it was a silent order.Fuck.

Blast lowered himself into the chair next to Taps on the opposite side of the table.

They were all giving him the stink eye. He studied the grooves in the carving on the table after throwing back the shot. No way to avoid it so, might as well lube the way, so to speak. “Which is it? Parental type lecture, behavioral intervention, or commiserate drinking? Because there is only one of those things I want to fucking sit here for.”

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