Page 10 of Torching Vixen
Duck is our acting road captain until then. Razor is beside him, drumming his fingers on the table like he is typing. Pretty Boy, our sergeant at arms, is on my left with Coin, our treasurer, beside him. Smith and Wesson, our enforcers, are standing against the wall. Yes, the identical twins are named after the gunmaker. I don’t like to acknowledge their story because we have yet to figure out how their whore of a mother got away from us. All the old-timers that stepped down are along the walls since, for now, this isn’t an officer-only meeting.
“Care to tell me what in the fuck happened?” Prez asks so calmly, and a shiver runs down my spine.
“We went to—” He raises his hand, cutting me off.
“I know the story you fed me over the phone. What I want to know is who these women are and what kind of fresh hell they bring with them.” Prez looks me in the eye. I give him a subtle head shake.
I don’t know if what Vixen says about a rat is true, but until I can discuss it with just the officers and the men I completely trust, I don’t want to bring it up. I see the acknowledgment in his eyes, so we go over the rest of the trip with the guys that weren't with us.
“We got to the compound and the place is a cesspool of filth. The guys were all either drunk or drugged out of their minds, if not both. Fire had no intentions of making a deal with us. He just wanted us to help them transport the snow they are using more. I got the feeling they would try and use us as the patsies when their supplier comes calling. The women we brought back with us were being abused. I would like them to tell the officers what they know so we can decide how to proceed,” I say to the room.
“You have to be fucking joking me. You want to let those two whores into our club? For all we know, they are fucking spies or will plant some shit for us to get hauled in for.” I glance at Ox and see the nervousness in his eyes.
“Is there something you know that we don’t?” Smith questions, with his all-American smile gleaming sinisterly.
“No, nothing. It was a concern for our club, our family,” Ox says, looking around.
“Then yes, we will bring them in, and our officers will talk to them. Once we’ve heard what they have to say and a decision is made, we’ll let everyone know. Do I make myself clear? If anyone disagrees with this, we can bring it to a vote. When that’s done, I’ll meet you in the ring,” Prez stands and leans on his fists.
Prez has always been fair, but he will not tolerate disrespect or dissension. We are a family, a brotherhood. We look out for each other and the women and children in our lives. But you are expected to respect your officers and what we stand for. Ox thinks hard about what he is going to say. He gives Prez a stiff nod, and Prez takes his seat. We go over the rest of the business, and I find out we have two transports coming up in the next couple of weeks.
We buy and sell guns to give us entry into the underworld for contacts and connections for when we go after the human traffickers or the bad gangs that kidnap women and children for leverage. We also help women and children in bad situations get out. These transports are a woman and child on the run from a very high-ranking cartel member, and the other is a small child whose parents tried to sell for their next fix.
Once we’ve covered who will be where and when, Prez closes the meeting, and everyone but the acting officer’s leave. Ox leaves, and I wonder what is going on with him. He has been MIA a lot lately, but we all know his momma has been sick. Fuck, Vixen has put the idea of a traitor in my head. Now I’m looking for any reason to blame a brother.
Once everyone has filed out, Prez turns to me. “You mind telling me what is going on? Not only have you stirred up a shit storm with the fucks in the south, but you have brought two unknowns right into our club. So, tell me why I should give a fuck about them?”
“I went into that meeting to make peace, but when I got there, they were acting like they already had us backed into a fucking corner and held all the cards. So, when I found an opportunity to shake them a little, I took it by taking the girl. I was going to just let her go when we got a couple hours out, but two things happened. Fire and his army of fuck ups followed us two hours away to get her back, and she has hinted that we may have a traitor in our ranks.”
“Not fucking possible! There is no motherfucking way we have a traitor here,” Prez bellows, his temper exploding in the room like a bomb.
“That’s what I thought, but after listening to what she had to say, I just don’t know.”
“Did she tell you who it was?” Smith asks me. As one of our enforcers, I suspect he’d be very interested in someone attempting to betray the club. Not that all of us wouldn’t be up in arms, but our enforcers take their roles seriously. To him and, most likely, Wesson, if there is a traitor in the club, they’ll take it as a personal affront.
“No, she didn’t. So, I figured we could pull her and Lo into your office, Prez, and have a talk with them,” I suggest, knowing that outsiders are not allowed in church. Fuck, even ol’ ladies aren’t allowed.
“Fuck, there isn’t enough room in my office for everyone. I want to bring a couple of the old-timers in on this too,” Prez muses, rubbing his brow.
“I don’t think that is wise,” I advise. “I think we should leave it as officers only, at least for now.”
9
Vixen
Duck walks away, and I turn back to the bar, dreaming of taking a few shots. I eye the women there, and the older of the two has a cut. The other looks like she is fixing to step on the stage. Taking in the room, I still can’t believe this is a motorcycle clubhouse. All the ones the Snake Bites stayed in were just as run down and nasty as theirs. So, to see this one so fucking clean and nice, I wonder what they do.
“So, what can I get you to drink, my dear?” the woman with the cut asks, the name stitched on the front reads ‘Blue.’
“Ummm, do you have any orange juice?”
“Would you like anything in that?” She raises her eyebrow.
“Tito’s please, and yes, she would like some too,” Lo says, bouncing in her seat, looking more relaxed than I’ve seen her in a while.
“No, just orange juice, please.”
Lo turns to me with an eyebrow raised. “Why the heck are you drinking just orange juice? You hate it plain.”
