17. Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen

Aleko

I t’s been three weeks since the glue that has always held our club together was ripped away from us. Between the administrative shit of declaring the death, getting the certificates—both short and long—and picking the casket since Vanessa can barely get out of bed from the weight of her grief, it’s been a whirlwind of emotions around here. Our only saving grace is that Prez had an entire folder with all of his wishes written out. Then there’s the investigation of our club. We don’t like strangers all up in our business on a good day, so it was no surprise that the brothers got a little heated when the cops started acting like the place belonged to them, banning us from areas on our own property. Boner had to physically restrain Grinder before he scooped out some poor rookie’s eyeballs with a spoon.

Unfortunately, that’s not a euphemism. The spoon in his hand almost became a murder weapon.

Today, though, we finally put Prez to rest.

With Mackenzie by my side, one arm wrapped around my waist, her other hand on my bicep, I try my best to listen to the actual words Hoops is saying. The ocean breeze whips around us but every word is distinct and just as painful. My eyes are downcast, though, because I can’t use all of my senses at once without losing my shit.

“The first time I met Prez, he narrowed his eyes and asked me: ‘Why you wanna join my club, boy?’” Hoops pauses, the hitch in his voice more telling than his actual story. Prez is intimidating on a good day… was . Prez was . Fuck . But his love for the club, his brothers, was above all except Vanessa. No one and nothing outranked her.

“I didn’t know at the time how important this life would become to me.” Hoops pauses again, and as I look up, I see his eyes scan the cemetery. Half the town seems to be present. The pier is filled with bodies dressed in black and overflowing onto the beach around it. Knowing they feel a profound need to say goodbye, that they saw him as a prominent figure, a friend and a confidant, should bring us comfort, and I suppose it does but…it also hurts to share him right now. By the way Hoops fidgets, it’s clear he’s uncomfortable. “So, I just told him what I thought he wanted to hear. I said: ‘Cause I wanna ride.’” We all chuckle but there’s no humor in it, it’s just empty sounds swallowed up by this pit of dread and loss. “He got up and walked over to me, arms crossed and looking like he wanted to bite my head off. And what he said next has resonated with me for the last fifteen years. He said: ‘You’re here, kid, ‘cause you need a family.’ It wasn’t a question, you know? He just…that’s what he did, he took a bunch of misfits, lost kids, traumatized adults and he…he healed us.”

Beside me, Vanessa’s sob is muted only by her hand slapping across her mouth. Of everyone in attendance, she’s the only one sitting, because standing wasn’t an option. I don’t think her legs can hold her up. Shade is immediately beside her, squeezing her shoulders as the silent presence that she needs. That she’ll probably need for months, or years, maybe forever.

“No one could ever fill his shoes, they are too big for mere mortals, but we will follow his philosophy when it comes to the club. Rest in peace, Prez. Ride, die, and bleed for speed.”

“Ride, die, and bleed for speed.” Like we’re one single voice, we repeat our motto. Where our chant is usually filled with joy and pride, today, it chips away at a small piece of our souls. Today, it hurts in a sharp, ripping of our identities kind of way. Prez was us and we were all part of him, his chosen sons, his ride or die. His brothers in arms and in life.

Losing him won’t kill us but it will change us. Profoundly.

One by one, we step away and let Hoops pass by with the urn so everyone can say goodbye before we release his ashes to the four winds as a sign of freedom. Prez wished to fly over the ocean so he could travel the world and then come back to us. He didn’t write it down but Vanessa told us as best she could.

It’s what she wants too, one day, so she can travel the world with him.

As we ride away from the pier, Cherry sitting behind me with her arms wrapped tightly around my waist, the images, like an old silent movie, keep running through my mind.

One second, the rage boiling just beneath the surface begs me to set it free, then the next moment the ball in my stomach is so tight that I have to force myself not to throw up.

Right now, however, all I feel is a deep-rooted sense of pride as we navigate the streets of Rockford Beach, Hoops keeping his position as VP and leaving the empty space for our Prez. In the middle of our procession is a black town car, in the back of which Shade sits with Vanessa, trying his best to hold her together, and I can’t help but wonder who’s going to help him survive this loss. The sides of the road are lined with our townsfolk, solemn and respectful, with their hands raised and their fingers in a V , saluting us and the spirit of our president as we pass them by on our way back to the compound.

To be honest, we shouldn’t be surprised by this show of love from the townies. Prez and Vanessa did so much here. Hell, we all try to give back as much as possible, but Prez loved it here, chose this place to raise his family, and although he and Vanessa were never able to have children, the club was his family. Their family. Now, we’ll forever be the reason Vanessa lost the love of her life.

For me, it’s like losing a father, and my biggest fear is that I may also lose a mother.

The last thought running through my mind as we finally reach the compound is that I’m glad we’ve had a twenty-four hour watch on Vanessa these last few weeks, because I know all too well the deep, dark abyss into which your mind dives when losing your other half. It’s not pretty and it’s definitely not healthy.

Parking at the garage, I note the changes to our security system. The brothers from the other chapters helped us set up temporary fences with wood paneling all around our property. Every ten feet or so we’ve got cameras surveilling all the angles to make sure no other motherfuckers try to take us out like sitting ducks. I never thought I’d say this, but I’m beyond happy to have Glitch here working his magic. Python would have busted a nut learning a thing or ten from this guy.

The thought of our lost prospect only makes this pain settle in more deeply. Who knows? Maybe they’re both somewhere having a drink and catching up. The thought soothes me, just a little, until Cherry and I walk into the rec room and see the utter chaos. On a normal day, this room has maybe five to seven brothers in it; either drinking, getting sucked off, or busting a nut in a not so discreet position over the couch.

Tonight, though, it’s filled to the rim and I’m suddenly overtaken with a sense of claustrophobia. It’s too much.

The people, the emotions, the drinking, and the women. People evacuate their emotions in completely different ways, and right now, none of those outlets make me comfortable. I’m aware of my hypocrisy since I buried my dick so far inside my Cherry last night that I thought we’d never separate again. In fact, every night since the Prez’s execution, I’ve been taking my woman back to our suite and fucking all of my emotions into her, but I’m not escaping, I’m not compensating, and I’m definitely not using her.

I’m expressing my love in the only way I know. I’m giving myself to her and only her. Mackenzie Wilson will soon be my wife. She is the only person allowed to see all the broken sides of me because she’s the only person capable of putting those pieces back together. So I give her my hurt, my pain, my anger and my confusion. But mostly, I give her my love—unfiltered and as real as can be.

“All right, listen up.” Like a cold shower on a hot summer day, there’s a collective exhale from the room at Hoops’s call to attention because we all know this is it. This is our final goodbye to the man we all loved and respected. Correction: We all love…present tense. Forever tense. “Violet here is passing out shots as I speak, raise your hands when you get one.”

A few of the Khunts are helping Violet out and soon, every person in the room is armed with a shot of Prez’s favorite drink: top shelf whiskey.

“Brothers.” Immediately, the room goes quiet enough to hear the creaking pipes of this old building as Hoops takes a second to swallow his grief. “Raise your glasses to the man who led us, who guided us, and who took us in like we were his true sons.”

“Hear hear!” The response is quiet but firm.

“He was fierce and loyal and he fucking loved this club, this found family.” Hoops pauses as the room erupts in hoots and hollers, agreeing to the imagery he’s painted for us. Then he turns to the corner of the room where Vanessa is sitting, eyes glassy and lips in a tight, straight line. It’s impossible to miss the effort it takes her to stay strong and not run away or break down on the floor. “But you, Vanessa, he loved you above all else.” She nods, one quick jerk of her head, as Shade places his big hands on her shoulders, like he’s transferring his strength into her. “And as his Sons, we will come together, around you, to support as best we can because that’s exactly what he’d expect of us.” With those words, Vanessa’s battle against her tears crumbles as her cheeks are soaked with her watery grief, her pain, her desolation.

Cherry snakes an arm around my waist and leans her head on my shoulder, jostling Ninja and Bandit as they sleep inside my hoodie. When I look down at her, I can see her guilt in the way her mouth tips downward and her gaze darts from one of my eyes to the other. She’s asking me something and I don’t have the energy to lie to her, even if it’s to make her feel better.

“Hey, it’s over, okay? I understand why you did the things you did. The running and the hiding and…I get it. I forgive you.” Now it’s my girl’s turn to lose her fight against her tears.

“To Prez!” Hoops’s voice booms out across the room.

“To Prez!” Every single brother answers back, and it’s a beautiful fucking thing.

“Now, we’ve got club business to take care of, so Rockford boys, let’s get to church while the rest of you enjoy Prez’s favorite whiskey.” Hoops downs his shot then lifts the empty glass to the ceiling and mouths an, “I’ll miss you, Brother,” before slamming it on the bar and beelining his way to Church.

“I’ll see you later, babe. Stay with your mom and Vanessa. I’m sure Sabrina will be right back, she’s probably cooking up a fucking feast in there.” Kissing Cherry on the top of her head, I sigh into her hair as her scent soothes my aching heart. “Be good.”

Ignoring her snort, I pinch her ass and walk away.

For the past three weeks, we’ve been planning, just like Hoops asked us to do the night Prez died. Glitch has been a fucking life saver as he navigates the deep, dark web. It’s been a real eye-opener seeing just how easily he can go in and out of people’s lives, their private homes, their fucking phones, without breaking a sweat.

Tonight, however, we need to vote. All of our core members are back from whatever jobs they’d been on. Notably, Axle has returned from New Bern where he’s been overseeing the distribution of our less-than-legal parts acquisitions. Until now, Hoops has been acting as interim president, leaving the VP spot open for another brother.

Names were thrown around these past weeks, not just to replace Hoops’s spot, but also to envision replacing whatever other position would be open. Bear was asked to step in as VP but he refused. He’s comfortable as treasurer and clearly the most capable of running our numbers. Without him, we’d probably be in a shit ton of hurt. Grinder’s name was also mentioned, but he just laughed and said maybe one day, when he grows up.

Most of us already knew back then and still know now, that Sledge is the best suited for the job. As secretary, he already runs most of the club’s business, makes sure we’re up to speed with all the shit that needs to be done, and keeps us in line with our duties. So that’s who’s up for vote right now.

“All right, let’s do this.” Hoops bangs the gavel for the last time as interim and silence falls in the room.

“Let’s make this short ‘n’ sweet. All those in favor of Hoops as the new Sons of Khaos, Rockford Beach charter president, say yay or nay.” Sledge says, his notebook out where he takes minutes and generally uses it to boss us around. Each of our names are there, and as he goes around the room, it’s clear this is going to be a unanimous vote.

“Psycho?”

“Fucking yay.” I’m the last one called out and where an event like this would usually warrant an explosion of cheers, this time, it’s solemn and engrossed in sadness when it comes to our choice for a new leader.

“Now, the VP slot is open and I’ve generously accepted your begging demands for me to take over. Show me your yays.” Sledge goes through the motions all over again, and when he gets to Grinder, he’s about to write yay when a collective gasp rings out.

“Nay.” My head snaps toward Grinder, shocked that he could vote against Sledge. Then I see the corner of his mouth tick up and I roll my eyes. Ninja chooses this time to sleepily stretch out of my hoodie and trot his way down my sleeve and over to the baggie in the middle of the table where a few sticks of celery are just waiting for him to snack on them. Bandit quickly follows behind. Well, quickly is relative when it comes to our little pup.

“Oh, sorry! I meant to say yay but my tongue slipped.” An echo of insults rings out and Sledge promises bodily harm while Grinder is asleep, except that turns into some kind of sexual innuendo and then everything goes to shit.

“Boys, let’s focus, shall we? We’ve got important business to talk about so this shit needs to wait for fuck off o’clock.” All eyes are on Hoops, who has always been the quiet force of our club.

“Well, damn, Brother. I think I speak for us all when I say…we chose well.” Bear grins, and just like that, there’s a feeling of rightness among our tightly wound biker family.

After that, Crow takes Sledge’s place as secretary and Axle, who decided things were running as smoothly as could be up in New Bern, was voted in as road captain interim until Grinder was healthy enough to ride without pain.

“Now, Hoops and I were in cahoots and thought maybe it was time to give Bash his day in the sun. I move to make our little Bashy Bash Bash a full-blown member of the Sons.” Grinder stands and does a hip jerk movement like he’s fucking the desk, all the while fist pumping up and down. “Mate, you havin’ a stroke or something?” The ruckus just gets louder as Grinder grins and winks.

“Nah, just celebrating my boy’s graduation. I’ve got skills to teach him, if you know what I mean.” Yeah, we all know what he means, and it has something to do with ripping out teeth and finding new ways of making people blind.

“Anyway, all the yays?” All hands go up until the room goes completely silent.

“Boner, go get the prospect,” Hoops grins like an evil cat ready to rule the world and we all put frowns on our faces.

This is my favorite part of making a prospect a forever brother.

Two minutes later, Boner comes in with Bash at his heels looking green enough to puke. He’s fucking scared shitless. I have no guilt. We all went through this fucking charade and it just makes it more impressive and shows us just how much we want to be patched in.

“Prospect,” Hoops extends his arm and holds out his palm. “Give me your cut.”

Bash stutters, trying to figure out what to say, his gaze bouncing from one brother to the other.

“Don’t fucking look at us and do what you’re told.” Sledge’s tone is unusually harsh, but because I’m watching him, I notice the crack in his veneer. Our new VP is about to lose his shit.

With movements slow and measured, he shrugs off his cut and hands it to Hoops. I watch the kid as his brows shift from furrowed and confused to high and resigned. Poor guy is about to fall into a puddle of disarray thinking he’s been ousted.

Hoops rips it out of his hands and throws it on the wooden table, his pocket knife at the ready.

“Prospect, you are hereby stripped of your status.” Without even looking at him, Hoops hacks the patch off his cut and tosses it aside before he lifts his head and scowls at Bash.

“But…did I? What exactly—” Bash’s questions are interrupted by me, this time.

“Shut the fuck up, Bash.” I’m growling loud enough to make Ninja look up at me, his nose twitching like he’s not buying it. “You don’t speak unless we give you permission to do so.” To be fair, I’m being nice compared to the shit they made me do way back when.

“Y-yes, sir.”

“Do you know why we’re stripping you of your patch?” Hoops asks, his fingers curled around the lapels of his own cut.

“Uh, no. I mean…was it because I let Mackenzie leave that one time?” His gaze flicks to mine and this time my growl is not fake. The memory of coming home and finding her gone makes me want to murder people.

“Well, that didn’t help, but no. We’re stripping you because…” Dramatic pause, it’s a must. Sledge pops out a new patch with the single word “Member” on it and Hoops grins like a fucking maniac, all teeth and bright eyes. “Because you’re our newest patched-in member.”

There’s a moment where Bash has no fucking clue what’s going on as his eyes dart from Sledge to Hoops and back to Sledge before they land on the new patch.

Then the room erupts into complete chaos with woots and backslaps and forehead to forehead bumps. I think the kid’s gonna need a moment to himself where he may need to take a shit to get over this traumatizing moment.

“Congratulations, Bash!” Grinder stands and slow claps. “You’re fucking legal!” And then we all groan because ew, dude, come on.

It takes a minute, but soon enough, we all calm down and it’s right back to business.

“Second order of business is my conversation with Deputy Shipman, or Celia to some of you. I was asked, firmly, to make sure we don’t hinder the investigation into Prez’s killing.” His glare shoots to Diablo, who only smirks, which makes me wonder what that story is about because holy fuck, if Diablo is fucking the deputy sheriff it could go south real fucking quick. Then I remember that Celia likes the same bits as we do and now I’m wholly confused.

“Anyway, she wants us to cooperate and most importantly…and I quote: ‘Don’t get in my fucking way, Leo Clark.’” Hoops smirks and we all chuckle.

“Damn, she used your real name. Sounds like she means business.” Boner is chewing on a piece of carrot while Ninja tries to steal it out of his mouth. My little buddy is tenacious. My money’s on him.

“Anything else we need to address before I let the other chapter presidents in on our church business?” We all shake our heads until Grinder speaks up and another cold shower reminds us of our reality.

“All good, Prez.” Oof.

“How about we give ourselves some time before we start calling me that, okay?” We all nod because he’s right. It’s got to sink in and it won’t until we’ve avenged our late president.

Ten minutes later, the conference room where we hold church is so full, we’ve got to keep the doors open so everyone can attend.

“I won’t take up a lot of your time, so listen up. Our plans are in place. Thanks to the Reapers, represented by Flower, here—” Hoops is interrupted by the applauds and catcalls before Bear puts an end to that shit.

“Sweetheart, do not cat-call me unless you’re serious about getting some of this.” Flower adjusts her cups like she’s weighing her tits and I don’t miss the heavy growl beside me. I know my best friend and this seems like a great time to fuck with him.

“Boner’s been chomping at the bit to get a piece of her,” I say, so matter of factly that I know Bear thinks I’m serious.

“Well, she’s not here for that. She’s here on business so he better keep his fucking paws off her.” He clears his throat when he realizes he’s said too much. Not that his words said all that much, but his tone said everything I needed to hear. “For the club’s sake, that is. You know, to make sure the relationship with Mancini isn’t ruined.”

I don’t answer but I’m sure my face says it all. “Sure, dude. Sure.”

“Cut it out and let’s make sure we’re all on the same page.” Hoops again demonstrates his gift for leading as he runs through the plan with us once more. Church ends on hoorahs and grunts, the adrenaline pumping and the need to fuck at the top of the Sons’ agenda because, soon enough, all Hell will not just break loose. It will go up in flames like a fucking volcano of vengeance.

“Go fuck, go drink,” Sledge speaks for the first time as VP, a smirk firm on his face. “And get ready for the reckoning.”