Page 8 of Downward Dawg
“So are you, Dawg.” She handed him her empty mug, flicking the cupcake with one finger. “This is officially my favorite mug you have. Just so you know.”
“Figures.” He made his way to the door and paused, hand on the knob. “Lock this behind me, yeah? And don’t forget, I’ll see you in a few days. My guy should be waiting just outside tomorrow morning. Don’t tell him he’s not needed, because if he bails on the assignment, I’m gonna be pissed. Royally.” His face hardened. “To be clear, he’ll be the one in hot water, not you. So don’t do it to him, yeah?”
“Okay. I don’t entirely understand the dynamic, but I promise not to release him from his duty. I’ll leave that for you to do once you get back.” She shook her head. “As long as you realize it’s really not needed, you goof.”
“I don’t know any such thing. The info is still mixed on what’s happening, and until I get a crystal-clear idea, I’m going to err on the side of caution where you’re involved.”
“But not when it touches you?” Elodie frowned, not liking the obvious delineation he held between them. “Buddy, that doesn’t work for me. Not at all.”
“Ella, I’ll be as safe as I can be. That’s the promise I can offer you.” He adjusted the cups to dangle from one finger and lifted his other hand to his chest. Fingers spread over his heart, he stared at her intently. “Safe as I can.”
“I’ll take it, since that’s all you can offer, Dawg. See you when you’re back.”
“Yes, you will.” With that second promise, the door was closing behind him just as the front door chimed softly, letting her know her first class attendees were arriving.
Elodie turned with a smile on her face, easily swinging into instructor mode.
Chapter Four
Mad Dawg
He stared across the bar at Denver, who’d taken on the job of serving up drinks at this members-only church. Denver held his gaze, even as his hands busily worked to pull beers from the cooler to set on the bar top. Members were crowded into the room, but as he’d talked about Ella and his concerns, a circle of space had appeared around where Mad Dawg stood.
“What do you mean they’re after me?” He repeated what he’d just heard slowly, because Denver’s statement didn’t make sense. “That’s not something that should be. Not personal-like. Hell, other than seeing them in my shop the one time, I never put eyes on them. Fuck, man, I haven’t done shit to them.”
According to Denver’s information, the threat had been identified as the Heartless Horde MC. They were a club who’d recently opened a chapter two towns down the highway from where Mad Dawg had his shop. His hometown was historically neutral territory, so the Rogue Maniacs hadn’t offered argument to the HHMC’s occupation of a different town. As for them targeting him personally? As SAA of the nomad chapter of the Maniacs, he was an officer, sure, but not a high ranking one.I sure don’t have much pull. Not like the other officers.
“That’s just what the word is. Those fucking condoms don’t like having opposing representation so close to their new charter. According to them, that makes you a threat. Personal like.” The patch illustration for the HHMC was a French bulldog, and one of the RMMC had mentioned that the word Frenchie used to be synonymous with condom, and thus their nickname was born. Denver shoved a bottle towards him with a shrug. “I know it’s fucked up, since your shop predates their organizational location decision, but it is what it is.”
Denver was the information officer for their mother chapter, where church was being held tonight. If anyone had good info, it would be him, which was why Mad Dawg had reached out as soon as things felt off. It hadn’t taken Denver long to identify the men, but the track of communication between clubs was narrow and slow. Mad Dawg would have liked to have the knowledge before now. It might have changed who he’d asked to watch over Ella.
Shaking his head, he asked, “Why would they think knocking me down won’t be seen as a hit against the club itself? Maniacs stand strong, you know? The only thing that would make sense was if they didn’t expect any blowback. I just don’t think that’s reality. Not by a long shot. I might not be a big player, but the club backs our own.” He lifted the bottle and took a strong pull. His bag was already upstairs, holding his place on a cot, which gave peace of mind that he wouldn’t have to worry about blowing high if he got pulled over. No riding under the influence for him.Not tonight. Not ever. So, tonight was the perfect time for a drink or three with his brothers.
“They’d reap blowback to the extreme, and you fuckin’ know it” came from next to him, and Mad Dawg turned to find Rocker at his shoulder. The man was a solid club member, and one of Mad Dawg’s favorites among the brothers. “They dick around with you, might as well script their own called shots. We’d be there in a fuckin’ heartbeat. On ’em like a fuckin’ heart attack. Like mud on a hen, brother. Extreme blowback.”
“I still don’t understand why me?” Mad Dawg finished his beer and exchanged the empty for a full one Denver already had waiting. “I’m not central to the club. I’m on the edges of everything, sure, but the edge isn’t in the middle. There’s a reason I wear a nomad patch.”
“Word is you’re on the table for an upgrade.” Rocker grinned at him. “Do good work and you get more work; you know how it is.”
“Fuck, man, I don’t want more. I’m unreasonably happy with where I am. Beyond happy.”
“Aw, that’s cute how you think you got a say in shit. Mad Dawg, you know how this goes.” Denver rolled his eyes as he took a drink of his own beer, then tipped it towards Mad Dawg in a salute. “Your wants and needs don’t matter.”
“Brotherhood and club, in that order. Followed by members as a distant third.” He agreed wholeheartedly with the statement. That profound respect was something he tried to live every day. “I know, but still. Shit, man.”
“Couldn’t happen to a better man.” Rocker thudded a fist against Mad Dawg’s shoulder. “Time for church, brother. Let’s find seats before we’re left standing along the wall like dillweeds.”
The gavel in the hand of Tinder, their East Coast regional president, thudded hard against the top of a broad scarred table and Mad Dawg joined the slow scramble to find chairs. By the time the gavel had landed a third time, every man was either seated or standing quietly along the edges of the room.
Business proceeded as normal, with chapter petitions for changes or expansions handled by the regional officers. It helped to have everything done in open church, because no one chapter could be favored, or it’d be called out by all the others. For an officer, every church was mandatory, and for members it was every other, allowing for emergencies before they’d catch a fine. That meant every member who could be present, would be, holding their excused absence in abeyance.
Tinder looked around the room, his sharp gaze glancing across Mad Dawg before returning and coming to a halt. He groaned internally, knowing he was about to be singled out. “More business. Our brother Mad Dawg has brought a potential threat to our attention. As documented by our brother Denver, the HHMC has internally issued a direct threat against Mad Dawg. Standing as our current SAA for the Nomad Charter, that’s going to be a serious offense from that raggedy group.”
Mad Dawg waited, knowing better than to interrupt Tinder, even if it seemed the man was done speaking. A couple of beats later, his reticence was rewarded, because his president continued, “However, seein’ as Wallace wants to retire to the happy land of coupledom and fatherhood, I propose a slight change in status.”
Slight change my ass.
Tinder shot him a glower cut through generously with twinkling amusement in his eyes. Wallace was the current nomad chapter president and had moved around the room so he was posted up at Tinder’s shoulder. The man nodded and his gaze locked on Mad Dawg, too.
