Page 44 of Sparrow

As they pulled through the gate to the clubhouse, Sparrow looked out the window at the row of bikes. She spotted touring bikes, softails, a street glide, but no silver Fat Boy. Though, the purple Road King stuck out like a sore thumb. The thing was an eyesore.

Stepping out of the car, she stuffed her hands in the back pockets of her jeans and looked over the clubhouse. Her mother stood beside her and slung an arm around her shoulders.

“Hard to believe so much history is inside those walls,” Dixie said before she puffed on the freshly lit cigarette.

“They painted over the Roughneck Riders colors,” Sparrow observed.

“Ain’t the home of the Riders anymore, little bird,” her mother said, pulling her arm back and walking toward the door. “We’re now the property of Odin’s Fury.”

Chapter 28

Romeo

The room used for church seemed a lot larger this time than all the other times. Most of the out-of-state men had returned home. They had business to attend to, no use staying too long when they were needed at home. They came, they did what they had to do, then went home.

Romeo was ready to go home too. Standing shoulder to shoulder with Dash, he looked over the table of Ohio chapter’s officers. Bowie sat at the head, gavel in hand, wet-coughing into his fist. Clark, to his left, scanned his new men.

Bikers weren’t known for froo-froo things. Based on the fact there was a bedsheet covering their new table, he’d assumed it had arrived that morning. Romeo supposed Bowie had called church to unveil it. Once the gavel came down, he did just that. The sheet came up to reveal Odin’s profile with his shield and axes. The seated men nodded in approval.

“Fury forever. Forever Fury.” A good sign. Things were moving in the right direction. They had buy-in from the officers. Bowie moved into reviewing business. Things Dash and Romeo didn’t necessarily need to hear, but could take back to Monty if asked.

Having mostly zoned out, his mind wandered to the freckled woman he’d left in bed. She hadn’t left his side since getting shot. It may have only been a week, but he’d gotten used to having her around and liked it.

Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, Romeo fought the urge to check the time. He and Dash planned to leave soon, but he wanted to see Sparrow before he left. The gavel coming down startled him out of his daydreaming and drew his eye to Bowie.

“Now, it’s time for serious business,” he said, standing.

Every man focused on the Ohio chapter president as his cold gaze lingered on each one of them in the heavy silence. He rested his knuckles on the edge of the table. The tip of his tongue slid back and forth along his lips while he considered his words.

“As Roughneck Riders, when a man betrayed us, stole from us, we voted on a drill,” he said, allowing each man to take in his words before he continued. “We are now men of Odin’s Fury. In the same situation, they—” He paused. “We,” he corrected himself, “take votes on sending him to Nástrond.”

It took a moment, but recognition dawned in the faces one at a time. Each club had its own way of talking about death. For Odin’s Fury, they voted on sending someone to Nástrond. Romeo understood it to be a place where those who broke oaths had their corpses chewed in the afterlife. Quite the fitting end for the junkie in the shed. Just using context, he assumed the men at the table had used ‘voting on a drill’ in the same manner. Either way, someone would die if the club agreed. Today, that someone was Pipes.

Romeo glanced toward Dash, who only nodded.

Two votes for death.

Lowering his eyes, Bowie tapped his fist against the table lightly. “I let my club get out of sorts. I took bad advice and allowed us to go astray. I turned a blind eye to our boys using and getting sloppy.” He looked around the table. “I gave patches to undeserving pieces of shit who knew nothing of brotherhood.” His words were cold, laced with murderous intent. “I’m here asking for a vote from my brothers to continue to fix the mistakes I made. We took Pipes’ patches. We took his will. Now it’s time to send him to Nástrond. All in favor.”

“Aye.” Romeo couldn’t cast his vote fast enough.

Clark glared over his shoulder. “I know you’ve been shot but you ain’t fucking special. Respect the goddamn order.”

Gritting his teeth, the younger man nodded. This shit took too long. Sure, the entire fucking country of Odin’s Fury wasn’t there anymore, but this vote was a long time coming. Who the fuck cared about the order? Just get it over with.

“Aye,” Clark said. “He stole from the club. He disrespected property. He shot a brother. Nothing worth saving.”

Down the line, the men of the Ohio chapter voted. Some of them were reluctant to give their vote in favor. Others were more willing. In the end, there were two votes against it, and the rest for it.

If the vote were for any other man, Romeo may have understood any hesitation or any nays, but not this man and not this vote. Cracking his knuckles, he eyed the nay-sayers. How could they, after seeing what he’d done to Sparrow, a club daughter, not want to see the man dead?

“Nástrond it is.” Bowie slammed the gavel down.

Laying it on the table, he headed for the door. He hadn’t ended church, so the men looked at one another in bewilderment. When he left the room, it took a moment for the rest to realize he wasn’t coming back. Eventually, Clark gave the signal for everyone to follow.

They shuffled out of the room, heading for the shed. Romeo ignored the curious looks from those in the clubhouse in the middle of the afternoon. He didn’t even look for Sparrow. This was club business, and right now, it came first. She’d understand.

The building was far too small to accommodate all the officers. The other club members had followed the parade as it made its way out back. Some hang-arounds had seen fit to be nosy as well. Bowie, with his back to the door of the shed, looked over the crowd. “Anyone without a patch, fuck off,” he bellowed. “If anyone is out here without a patch, you won’t be permitted back on the compound.”

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