Page 19 of Patch's Bride
Tex leans forward, his hands braced on his knees. “We’re booked solid for the next three months. We’re covering all the events at the civic center, recently picked up a job escorting armored vehicle money transfers, and we’re providing private-duty security for a bunch of big pharma execs coming to town for a convention. So far, we’re getting good reviews, and I’ve had no direct complaints.”
Siege nods. “That’s good news. The security firm is where most of our club revenue comes from.” Glancing at one of the older officers, he asks, “Dutch, want to give a treasury report?”
Our club treasurer clears his throat and pulls a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket then scans it. Dude might be on top of it with the club finances, but when it comes to preparing for meetings I’m guessing he’s more the fly by the seat of his pants type. “We’ve got almost thirty grand in our general club account and another hundred in savings. Everyone’s paid their dues for this quarter. Our businesses are all in the black, and our bills are current. We’re more than solvent with no big expenditures on the horizon.”
“That’s it for old business,” Siege announces before moving on. “On to new business. Crow, I believe you asked to have the floor.”
All eyes turn to look at Crow as he comes to his feet and turns to address the brothers. “I got a nomination.” He crosses his arms over his chest and raises his voice slightly. “And it’s long overdue.” His gaze sweeps over the brothers and lands on me.
This is it, the moment I’ve been working towards for the last year and some change. I’m equal parts excited and anxious. I’ve put in my best effort, and the brothers are reasonable men. I think I have a good chance.
“I want to nominate Patch for membership tonight,” he says. “You all know he’s been prospecting with us for the last year or so. He’s a good doctor, and we need one for this club. He’s done everything we asked of him in addition to doctoring everything from minor scrapes and cuts to third-degree burns, busted ribs, and even a bullet wound or two. He ain’t never turned a brother away and never once asked for thanks. He even set my boy’s arm when he decided to take a flying leap off the back dock. I like that he gives a damn about a brother’s family. He’s our kind of people.”
A few nods around the table and some whispers. I swallow thickly, trying to figure out if the brother making the nomination always gives such a glowing recommendation.
“A fuckin’ hundred nights of gate duty—I looked it up, and that’s how many shifts he pulled. That’s around one night every three or four days for over a year. And he’s never made one single complaint.”
“That’s right, brother,” Tusk says from across the room.
Crow’s voice raises just a bit as he continues, “Patch might be a doctor, but he has the heart of a biker. You can see it in the way he rides, his dedication to this club, and every brother here. This club is where he belongs. And we need a good doctor, one that’s smart, capable, and loyal to the bone. That’s why he’s my nomination.”
He pivots and then drops back in his seat, like he didn’t just give me the best compliments of my whole damn life.
Siege’s expression is totally blank, but he speaks right up. “Prospect, stand up. It’s time for you to tell us why you deserve to be a member of the Savage Legion MC.”
I jump to my feet and turn to address the brotherhood. They’re filling twenty-seven seats, all lined up in rows. Everybrother in the room spent months, sometimes years, proving their loyalty, dedication, and fitness to be part of the Legion, just like me. I remind myself that loyalty and our love of motorcycles are the most important things we have in common. I use that as a springboard to deliver my prepared speech.
“Most of you know that I’ve been riding my Harley since I was sixteen years old. Biking is in my blood. Like most of you, I feel most at home on the open road. Our love of riding binds us. Having said that, I feel like I’ve found the place I belong at the Savage Legion. That’s why I’ve worked my ass off to prove that I’m worthy of wearing the patch. You all know I’m a doctor. Like Crow said, I’ve patched you and your families anytime there was a need, and that’s never gonna change. Most especially, when times get rough, you’re gonna need a dedicated brother you can trust to keep you standing after a battle.”
I pause and take a deep breath. “But that’s not all I have to offer. You all know I’m not too proud to get my hands dirty, but what you might not know is that I’m willing to do whatever it takes to protect this club, the brothers, and their families, even if that means taking a bullet or even a life. If you give me this patch, I’ll fight every day to protect it and work to prove every day that I deserve it.”
Rider, my longtime critic, speaks up. “Those are good words, Patch.”
From him, that was a high compliment. I’d never say it to his face, but I think he’s got some issues with medics. Though I don’t blame him. He went through hell and back when he was in the military and had to go through extensive rehab at the VA medical facility.
Siege nods. “I agree. It’s time for a vote. Everyone in favor of Patch becoming a member of the Savage Legion MC, say aye.”
A couple dozen voices ring out, “Aye.”
Siege comes to his feet. “Now let’s hear the nays.”
There isn’t a single dissent. My chest tightens as I realize what that means.
Siege finally smiles. “That’s a unanimous vote. Patch, welcome to the Savage Legion MC. Time to step forward.”
Rigs rises from his chair with a brand-new cut draped over his arm. When Rigs holds out the new cut to me, I trade it out for my prospect’s cut in a heartbeat. “Welcome to the Savage Legion, brother.”
My new cut settles over my shoulders, feeling much like my prospect’s vest, yet not the same. I can’t work out what the difference is unless it’s that few extra ounces for the bottom rocker. No, that’s not enough of a difference to feel, but maybe the weight of expectation and responsibility that comes with it is.
The room erupts in cheers as soon as Siege ends the meeting. The brothers come to their feet, talkative and moving around. I notice that Rigs still has another cut folded over his arm. I glance around, looking for another prospect that I might have missed earlier. There isn’t one.
Finally, Rigs speaks up. “About that old lady of yours.”
I close the distance between us. “Is that what I think it is?”
“If you think it’s a property cut for your old lady, then yes.” Reaching out, I take it from him and hold it up to read ‘Property of Patch’ written in scripted letters on the lower back. Yeah, it’s a property cut.
“Thanks, Rigs. This was genuinely thoughtful.”
