Page 42 of Gunner
Scribe’s position in the club came early in his prospecting days and his true position was known by very few members. When the former President, Torch, passed away and Smokey was voted in as the new President, Scribe’s position in the club was even further clouded in secrecy. Until his arthritis became too much for him to ride, he was always tucked into a corner, watching and listening.
Smokey explained to me and the few Executive committee members that were here the truth and explained there were notes about club meetings, special sessions of church- which consisted of the all the club’s legal and illegal connections, and actions of the members, including who was killed by who.
Everyone was pissed about the revelation, but when Smokey explained it wasn’t for blackmail but for accountability, the anger lessened to a degree. It still stings that everything we discussed was apparently documented, and with that information, the entire club could end up in prison. If there was a way to ensure I wasn’t separated from Sadie, I would do it, even if it meant taking years of Scribe’s work and burning it to the ground.
“I was around when Torch died, but I was only fifteen. Scribe kept me away from most of the going’s on, so I don’t know if this is because of the information or if it’s standard practice. All I know is I want to get my hands on those journals before anyone uses whatever’s inside them to hurt us,” Skid said.
I nodded my agreement and lowered my voice, “I’m pissed we didn’t know there’s enough information to bury us under a federal prison floating around out there. Why in the fuck would they document everything?”
We both knew the MC had blood on its hands, and there were literal bodies buried out in the woods near the small lake on the compound property. If the feds raided us, they would find the weapons cache in the warehouse camouflaged with netting that was tucked into the trees, the open-air grow house we used for our weed operation, and countless other felonies practically lying around.
Skid ran his hand down his growing black beard and shrugged. “Let’s see if they’re ready to go to the compound. Piper and the ladies are cooking up a spread for a sit-down dinner. I want to get to Scribe’s and find whatever it is that has Smokey so skittish.”
Realizing Skid was as confused by Smokey’s actions and Mick’s secrets as I was let me know something deeper was going on. His eyes met mine, and we both gave a subtle nod before I turned and went to Sadie. Kissing her on the top of the head, I whispered, “We need to get moving to the clubhouse. Do you think you can be ready in thirty minutes?”
She looked at me and replied, “Yeah, I’ll take a quick shower and we can leave.”
She whispered to Jacob, and he nodded before she stood and walked into her bedroom. I followed her and pulled her to me, her back to my chest, and she leaned her head backward, settling against me.
“Can I do anything to help?”
“Just being here is helping.” She turned in my arms and linked her hands behind my neck as she spoke, “I love you, Kade.”
I kissed her, keeping it chaste when all I wanted to do was ravage her. She pulled back, and I whispered against her lips, “I love you too.”
She stepped away from me and entered the bathroom. Thinking of how I took her against the slick wall had my cock lurching in my pants, insisting I follow her into the shower. Looking over my shoulder at Jacob watching cartoons, I willed it down as I walked in and sat next to him. The little boy shocked me when he leaned his head against my shoulder and placed his hand on top of mine.
I could feel his eyes looking up at me, testing my response, and I lifted my arm, allowing his head to rest on my chest. Dalton chuckled behind me and remarked, “The cuddle bug strikes again.”
Sadie emerged a short time later with a small amount of makeup on and her hair braided down her back. She had on a pair of blue jeans and a long-sleeved black shirt with a rhinestone skull with roses on the front, and a pair of black knee boots. Her cut was resting over her arm, and when Jacob saw it, he jumped up and ran to her.
“Let me see it. Dalton said you were getting your cut . . . finally.” He looked over his shoulder at me and glared before turning back to his sister.
I shook my head at his tiny attitude toward me and stood from the couch, pulling my own cut on. Dalton had Mick’s new four-door pickup outside, and we all piled inside, the mood somber as Skid drove us to the clubhouse. When we pulled up to the gate, one of the new prospects made eye contact with Skid and rushed to open the gate. Pulling into the compound, you could feel the dark cloud hanging over the MC.
Scribe was one of the oldest living Death Hounds, not only for Portstill but for half the east coast chapters. He was respected by all, and when Sadie, Skid, and Jacob climbed from the truck, the brothers and their old ladies turned their attention to them. I took Sadie by the hand as we made our way through the line of members, leading to Smokey and Bullet waiting at the clubhouse doors.
They pulled the three siblings into brief hugs, showing Jacob the same respect as they showed Skid and Sadie. I helped get Jacob settled into the dining room with Piper and Lilly, and I detoured Sadie to my cabin. The room smelled stale from being closed up for a few days, and I took Sadie by the hands.
“I’ve got to go with Dalton to get some things from Mick’s place. Are you going to be okay until I get back?”
“I can go with you and help. I know there’s going to be a lot to sort through,” she replied, and I shook my head.
“Let me take care of this, and when it’s time to make decisions for the house, I’ll let you take the lead.”
She visibly exhaled, and I felt like shit for not telling her the whole truth. Whatever we were going for was club business, and I couldn’t let her become involved. She linked her hand with mine, and I tugged her closer to me, bridging the distance between us and kissing her gently. She groaned into the kiss, and I forced myself to pull away from her, knowing if we got started, it would be hours before we left the bed.
She followed me back to the clubhouse, her cut displayed proudly and her head held high. I was proud of how she was handling everything, and I hoped she kept her strength when times got tough. Skid and I pulled away from the clubhouse, knowing Jacob and Sadie were safely tucked away, and headed down the road toward Scribe’s cabin. He moved into the woods on the outskirts of Portstill headed to Pierce Bluff a few years ago, choosing to leave the compound.
Skid turned down the dirt road lined with tall pine trees, and I looked at him, seeing the tension in his features. He was white-knuckling the steering wheel as he pulled up to the single-story cabin, and I turned to him, waiting for the explosion I feared was imminent. So far, he seemed calm and collected, but the closer we got to the front door, the more the waves of anger radiated off him.
He used a key from the ring and unlocked the door to find a beep sounding from the panel on the wall. He punched in some numbers and turned his gaze over his shoulder to me.
“I installed a new security system last year through Callahan’s company, and he gave me the passcode this morning on the drive back.” Skid closed the door behind us, rearming the alarm and turning to me. “Let’s get this over with.”
For the next hour, we dug through every drawer, closet, shoebox, and hidey-hole we could locate, collecting small black notebooks scattered throughout the house. When I opened Scribe’s nightstand, I found one single red notebook tucked under his girlie magazines. Pulling it from its location, I walked into the living room to find Skid searching the last drawers in the kitchen.
“I found this,” I remarked, holding the small red notebook in my hand, and he snatched it from my grasp.
