Page 19 of Property of Max
The room goes dead quiet.
Tank’s chair groans under the force of his grip, knuckles white as bone. Skip mutters a curse under his breath, low and vicious. Maverick leans forward, elbows on his knees, eyes dark like he’s staring down the devil himself.
Spike doesn’t flinch, but his jaw works, a muscle ticking as the silence stretches.
Me? Images of a little girl I only just met flash in my mind. Blonde hair, brown eyes, a heart too beautiful for this world. Bree. Her smile had lit me up last week, brightening a darkness I didn’t even realize I was carrying… until now.
In a blink, that image twists. Her laughter is gone, replaced by fear. A camera lens pointed at her, helplessness in her eyes.
The thought is so vile it makes my stomach turn. I squeeze my eyes shut, forcing it away, shoving it back into the shadows where it belongs.
“We have to stop him,” I growl. “No matter the cost.”
“Foster,” Spike says. “I need you to keep digging. I want to know everything there is to know about Cortez. Even his favorite fucking color.”
Nodding, Foster leans back in his chair, his mind a million miles away.
“Before we go on, there’s something we need to address,” Spike says. “Max is a fucking idiot.”
The room hums their agreement, a low chorus of grunts and chuckles. I can’t decide if I want to smile or punch them all.
“Thanks, brothers,” I settle on, dry as hell.
“We’ve all noticed you haven’t been yourself since you got back,” Spike goes on. “I figured it was because of all the shit you went through with Muerte. And I’m sure that’s a big part of it.” He turns toward the rest of the table, his voice harder now. “But what I just found out is that he doesn’t feel like he deserves to be here, and he’s been waiting for us to kick his ass out.”
“Ah, that’s why he’s an idiot,” Skip smirks.
I narrow my eyes. “If you didn’t know the reason, then why’d you agree?”
Skip sighs dramatically, clutching his chest. “I felt the truth in my heart.”
Maverick doesn’t even blink. “One of these days, someone’s gonna shoot you.”
“Patch tried last week,” Skip says, eyes wide with mock innocence. “All because I added a little pink to his bike. The man needs some color in his life.”
“Anyway,” Spike sighs, dragging us back on track. “We met up without you yesterday, Max, and voted on something we’ve been discussing for weeks now.”
A frown pulls at my face, but I bite back the words on my tongue. If they aren’t kicking me out, then what the hell did they need to vote on?
“I need someone in charge of all the chapters here in Palm Springs,” Spike continues, his tone steady, deliberate. “Someone I can trust to run each one with precision and fairness. I need a Regional Commander.”
“Isn’t that what Tank does as your VP?” I ask, confusion twisting my gut. “All chapter leaders report to him daily.”
“And now they’ll report to you,” Spike says. “Tank’s going to be busy starting a new chapter outside Palm Springs, and I need his focus there until it’s up and running.”
I blink. “We’re spreading?”
“That’s right,” Spike nods. “I’m pulling a few men from the South, East, and West chapters here to build the Arizona chapter. Runner will take the gavel as President.” He pauses, his gaze sweeping the table. “Unless, of course, one of you wants to step up and claim it.”
The room stays quiet for a long beat before the grumbling starts.
Bones snorts first, his scar pulling tight as he leans back in his chair. “Arizona’s a fucking oven, and Sunny would be miserable. I’ll pass.”
Skip waves his hand like he’s swatting a fly. “Too many scorpions. I’m not living anywhere I gotta check my boots every morning.”
Foster shakes his head, lips curling. “Nope. Wi-Fi out there is trash. You won’t catch me in the desert with dial-up speeds.”
Knuckles crosses his arms, glaring. “I ain’t leaving my roads. My routes, my rules. Arizona ain’t mine.”
