Page 1 of Pound

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POUND

Things were winding down. Not exactly winding down, but well, not ramping up, so why was Pound sitting in church with that anxious feeling? The one where everything felt still. Deathly still. The calm before the storm. That too big for his own skin sensation.

It’d been a while since he’d experienced it on that level. Sure, life as vice president of an MC wasn’t all fluffy kittens and rainbows, but there was a predictability to the unpredictable, if that made any sense.

The stillness that choked him wasn’t that kind though. It was the kind that changed lives. He’d felt it right before a series of explosions and bullets ripped through his vehicle back in the box. He’d felt it before Lea lost her shit with him. And he was feeling it as his prez briefed the club on current events.

They’d had it pretty tame for a long time, and it’d spoiled them. When Bullseye came to Granite for help with his situation, Pound saw it as a welcome distraction. But when the shit with Trip and his ol’ lady happened, Pound cursed himself for thinking tame was boring. Now, that situation was semi-settled, and they were back to everyday business.

“That does it for the poker run. Any news out of Arizona about the drugs coming in?”

At Granite’s question, attention turned to the ex-cop in the room, Whiskey. “The drugs were definitely coming from the Demon Sidewinders. But after shutting Petty and Rainbow Bob down, we haven’t seen any more in Vegas with their mark. So, either they didn’t know their dealers were peddling in our territory, which seems unlikely since Petty had a connection to them, or, what strikes me as the case, they just haven’t found a new local distributor willing to cross us.”

Granite stroked his beard, and Pound waited for his president’s answer. “I agree, those bastards knew and didn’t care, but I refuse to hit them and risk anything or anyone if there is even the slimmest chance that it’s the former.”

“Agreed.”

Granite demanded one-hundred-percent certainty to go to war. Anyone who felt differently wouldn’t make it in the Phantoms. It was a principle Granite and Pound had shared since their military days. Take no shit but be certain before you act. Granite was the most levelheaded person he knew, except for himself, that is.

Pound had made a string of "act before you think" mistakes. Never again. Being hotheaded had cost him everything once, and he didn’t want a repeat.

“Okay, so we observe and wait on the Sidewinders’ situation. However, the second we get plausible deniability or confirmation, we move. On to the next subject, Thunder.” Prez turned his gaze to the enforcer, but there was pain and sympathy in his eyes.

“Got some bad news. Flash is in the wind. Sully said he took off in the night pissed off about something and hasn’t been back. He’s ditched the cell and car we could track.” Thunder slammed his fist into the carved wood surface of the table.

Granite’s words halted the enforcer before he could lose himself to the anger and hurt. “Before you get pissed, hear me out. Sully did try to stop him. Got a bloody nose and split lip for his effort. Which is why when he called me, I told him not to go after him. If he wanted to get away enough to assault an old man who meant him no harm and only tried to help him, well, he wasn’t going to be stopped.”

Pound smiled to himself. Sully would throw hands if he knew Granite called him old. Shit, he was around the same age as them. Different lifestyles yielded different results. Sully did seem older, of course, he’d gotten out of the military long before either of them. Lucky bastard.

Sully was good people, he was just like Granite, except instead of a cut and an MC, he wore coveralls and had a garage. Pound let his gaze drift to Bullseye. Hell, if it wasn’t for Sully, Bullseye wouldn’t be a Phantom, and that would be a damn shame. He’d saved Granite in prison when he shouldn’t have even been there. They hadn’t known each other long, but Pound couldn’t imagine not knowing Bullseye and his ol’ lady.

Same with all his brothers.

He scanned the room, and that familiar sense of family washed over him. If not for the men gathered around, Pound would likely be six feet under.

His smile fell when the weight of Granite’s words settled in his soul. Every man in the room had demons and sometimes you’d lose a good man to them. Pound was certain Flash would be yet another statistic soon. He’d felt as much when he showed up out of the blue asking Thunder for help. All his enforcer had to say was they served together and every brother in the club was willing to help. Military bonds were some of the strongest in the world, and when a buddy was in need, there wasn’t too much his brothers weren’t willing to do to help him out.

Trip rested a hand on Thunder’s shoulder. “I know the feeling, brother; it hurts like a bitch to watch. You can’t help someone who doesn’t want help, but when he does, we’ll all be there for him.”

“Hear, hear.” The sentiment was sincere.

“Thanks. I knew he was pretty far gone when he was here. I just never thought… I guess when he went with Sully, I thought it was a done deal.” Thunder’s voice was sullen.

A tendril of a memory reached into the present and tried to pull Pound back. A time when he was the one in need but couldn’t ask for help. How could he, Joseph Matthew Blackwell, Army off-the-record badass, tell his buddies what he had been going through back then? As a result of his demons, he’d mastered emotional control. There was only one person who’d pierced that armor since, and she didn’t even know it.

Pound shook it off. No way was he taking a stroll down memory lane. It was in the past, and he wouldn’t go back, even just in thoughts. The day it all ended, that was the day he vowed never to let his heart control his head ever again. Most people thought he was serious and unfeeling. That wasn’t true. Pound felt shit down to his bones. He decided within minutes if a person was important to him or not. If they were, they were for life. He allowed people to see the cold, overly serious mask. It was better that way. Lonelier sure, but safer.

“It’s never a done deal. It’s a daily struggle, you know that. But we’ll get him back on solid ground as soon as he’s ready,” Prez promised. Those words hit Pound right in the chest.

“Now, I think we need to discuss the trouble in Tahoe. Jake may not be a threat to your family any longer, Trip, but what of the mess he left behind? Those kinds of fuckers don’t just go away. Considering he basically used your sister and her kids as collateral, I think she needs to be here. At least until we’ve had time to assess and neutralize.”

Fuck. Having Meri at the clubhouse was going to be utter hell. His mask would dissolve for sure. Pound looked around the room. They would all be able to see it the minute she stepped across the threshold. Pound would lose the tight rein he held on his emotions… his heart. Just the thought of it had him flinching. Conditioning sucked.

It’s different, she’s different. He repeatedly chanted in his head, but it did nothing to slow his heart rate or quell the panic that was rising up inside him.

Meri fucking Adams, his brother’s big sister, and the woman who owned his heart from the minute he’d met her. Yeah, he was a little vintage to be all about love at first sight, but it was what it was. When Trip patched in, she made a casserole, a freaking casserole, and brought it by like he’d joined a social club. As much as he adored her, she was a strong woman, and showing her his heart, scared the shit out of him. No one but him would ever know how he felt about Meri Adams.

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