Page 3 of The Loves We Lost
“We’ve been trying to avoid a war with the Brotherhood,” King says. “Wars are expensive and deadly. But the Brotherhood is growing. Bates, you, Niro, and Cat saw them in Joplin. I know Whip is having issues with them in Bethlehem. They keep trying to reopen their route through our docks according to our contact there, Jasper Haven. They’re like fucking parasites that won’t let go. Will be good to have a functioning chapter near their mothership.”
“And our coffers are good. Running weapons for the Irish again has been a good money-builder,” Switch says.
“And the extra weapons it’s provided for us will come in handy. We’ll need arms,” I offer.
“I’ve asked Catalina to work with Spark to reinforce the clubhouse. Boundaries, security, weapons, and supplies. If we get holed up in here, there are more people to think about now. There are more old ladies, Wrinkle has his kid, and we agreed on the three new prospects last week.”
Mark and Heath come as a team. Served together. Ride together. Began to hang around together. I like ’em both. Noah, the third, I’m on the fence about. He’s already a family man with a wife and daughter. I’m worried he’s not going to do what we need when it matters.
“The bunk houses out back are nearly complete,” King continues. “We’ll be able to sleep more people more comfortably. Switch, can you touch base with them and see if there’s a way to create space to up our medical game?”
Switch nods. “Yeah. I got some thoughts on that already.”
“Bates, can you work with Spark on weaponry and both attack and defense strategies? I want to reduce the Brotherhood to rubble, but they aren’t going to go quietly. I’ve asked Niro to figure out how best to protect the old ladies, including his own.”
I laugh at that. His old lady was an assassin for Los Reyes motorcycle club and had even kidnapped him. Only Niro could fall for a woman like that. “In fairness, Catalina could protect all of us.”
Laughter breaks out in the clubhouse, and King is momentarily distracted as he looks through the window at his old lady. I really hope the two of them make it, but in my experience, good women like Rae change their minds about men like us.
“They’re running a book club and taking turns choosing the book. This month it’s Briar’s turn, and she picked a book she designed the cover for,” King says. “Did you know there’s a whole line of books in the romance genre about motorcycle clubs?”
“For real?” Switch asks.
King shrugs. “I don’t know, guess some women get lady boners for bad boys. Plus, when Rae reads enough of that book, I get laid, so I’m not complaining.”
“Speaking of boners,” I say, to get away from the topic of my president getting laid. “I got plans to find Penny.”
“Understood. Think they’re all hiding out in the kitchen. Club girls are still a touchy subject for Gwen, if you remember the shit she got when she first arrived. She’s made it clear to them that if the old ladies are in the bar, they need to be somewhere else.”
I roll my eyes. “No offence, Prez, but between your twin sister and your missus, they’re fucking with the vibe of the club.”
“Understood. I’ll speak to both of them about co-existing.”
Switch smirks. “Good luck with that. I’ve seen the way your old lady ties you up in knots.”
“Fuck you,” King says, but the tone of his voice is lighthearted. We all know what a sucker he is for his woman. I remember what that feels like. I had it once. “Bates? This isperhaps the most important thing I’ve asked you to do for the club. Treat it like your fucking Super Bowl, yeah?”
I nod. “I got this, Prez.”
And I do. I joined the Iron Outlaws eight years ago, the Bethlehem chapter, and found my place on this earth. I found a freedom to do exactly as I chose. To live a life I wanted. To deal with turmoil using my brain, my fists, and my weapons.
I loved all of it.
Yet it cost me someone I loved just as much. Even went nomad for a year or so after she destroyed me because I couldn’t bear to be in the same place as her.
I push thoughts of her to the back of my mind. This is a really good fucking day. A long ride. An important mission. Some alcohol and pussy. Living the fucking dream.
When I step into the bar, Iris—old lady to Spark, our sergeant at arms—waves me over. She’s wearing denim shorts and a brightly colored striped T-shirt, which I’m guessing she wears to teach her kindergarteners. “Bates. I just commented how you look like the guy on the cover of our book.”
Playfully, I kiss my bicep and strike a pose. “You think I should be on a cover, sweet thing?”
Briar laughs. “I had to work through the publishing house I freelance for with what the author wanted. Don’t let it go to your head.”
“Let me see it,” I say with my hand out.
Rae gives me her copy. The book is calledFortune’s Loss. It’s got little sticky notes peeking out of the pages.
“You color coded your smut notes?” I ask.
