Page 14 of Slayin Villain
“I’ll deal with it.”
“You better.”He turned and walked off, already pissed.
“Is this because she’s…?”
“She’s what?”Thorn stopped and turned to me, nostrils flaring.
“She’s related to Sweet Tea, I hear,” I tried, rubbing my hand through my hair.
My brother only gave me an evil stare that screamed I shouldn’t even go there.
I grabbed my cut and threw it on without bothering to button it.My shirt stuck to my chest, still damp with sweat from the night before.I looked like I’d just crawled out of someone’s bed.
Because I had.
And not the one who’d been mine for months.
Church was held in the soundproof conference room attached to Royal Road.Had an orgy pit right out of the seventies, and a round table from medieval times.Our officers sat around it, chain-smoking and stirring shit.
Kingpin sat at the head in his goddamn throne.Literally.He was the only one who didn’t wear his cut.His silk black robe was open, but thankfully he had on matching pajama pants underneath.No shoes.The biker was born in a barn.
Flame headed, Irish his Enforcer waited on one side, drinking Guinness for breakfast.Pagan our Vice Prez on the other, stroked his wild beard.Blonde hair slicked back under a black and white bandana, and a joint between her teeth, Memphis sat on Prez’s right side, too, like his right-hand woman.
Being a woman, she wasn’t a patched member but had been Prez’s guard before he got hitched.More than his guard.One of two, but her bookend was six feet under.Memphis had a man now, or she did before Big bolted.She still attended church sometimes like she belonged.Kingpin allowed it.No one argued.
My chair waited on the other side, important for now, at least where the bylaws were concerned.Opry tipped his cowboy hat as Thorn and I took our seats.
Prez didn’t wait for me to sit.
“You got a death wish, blondie?”
I blinked.“Morning to you too, Prez.”
“You show up to church smelling like pussy and sweat, twenty minutes late, while I’m trying to pull off the biggest goddamn patch-over this club has ever seen.”His voice cracked through the room like thunder.
Pagan snorted.“Here we go.”
I leaned forward, elbows on the table.“We’ve got the bylaws drafted, and I got support from the chapters in Charleston and Knoxville.They're good with the merge.So, unless you want me to wipe down with sage and holy water before every fuckin’ meeting, I suggest you let me work the way I work.”
Kingpin slammed a hand on the table.
“I want a show, Villain.Not just papers and promises.I want the patch-over to be the kind of shit that gets people talking from Nashville to goddamn Mexico.”
Opry leaned in.“Prez wants something unforgettable to mark the occasion.Like Halloween.”
I rolled my eyes.“You want to be King of the Circus again?Look how well that worked out last time.”
“No,” Kingpin growled.“This is Nashville.My town.I want fire.I want fury.I want to throw a party that people can’t crawl away from.”
Opry exhaled hard.“I can work with that.But I need more time to finalize the lineup.And timing sucks.It’s when your brother Beau returns to Nashville from his world tour.”
“You mean, Bubba,” Kingpin said, gritting his teeth.
“I thought they buried the hatchet,” I whispered to Horror.
He scowled, but he was always making that ugly face.“Prez hates to be upstaged.”
“We’ve got politics to play with three more chapters,” I reminded the table.“Could postpone it.”
