Chapter Twenty-Four

Storm

The clubhouse was deathly quiet as I walked through the front doors. Like the rest of the board members, I'd gotten the text message that Montana had ordered an emergency board meeting.

Not that I gave a shit, but I was still a member of the club.

Seeing Malice sitting at the bar, I walked over, taking the stool next to him and asked, "So, it's true?"

The moody brother barely nodded, looking around the barren room. "Someone put holes in the old man last night."

Fuck me.

Remi was on the level.

"Fucker wasn't going to live long, anyway. So why all the drama?"

Malice looked at me and muttered, "They also killed Shame."

"Excuse me?"

"After I left your place, I headed here. Found Shame at the entrance. Doors to the clubhouse wide open."

"Silver?"

"She's fine. Storm, they cut the surveillance. We have no idea who was in our house."

Shit. They didn't cut shit. That was me when I tried to kill George myself before Malice and Montana stopped me.

I never turned them back on.

Fuck.

Leaning closer to Malice, I whispered, "I know what Remi meant about sister and niece. Delany's been branded by the Golden Skulls. Don't know how or who did it, but she bears the Golden Mark. She's untouchable."

"Montana's gonna lose his shit."

"It doesn't matter anymore. He can't touch her."

"He can still make your life a living hell."

"He can try."

Hearing pipes, Malice and I turned as Fury and Payne walked into the clubhouse. Payne grumbling as Fury reached across the bar for a beer.

"A little early, isn't it?" I asked.

Fury said nothing, grabbing another, sliding it toward me.

"Drink up. Because I just learned that the southern clubs didn't do what they were told. Which means one of us will be heading down south soon."

Twisting off the cap, I took a swig before asking, "What are you talking about?"

"Bullseye called in a club marker. Told Montana to eradicate Satan's Angels or he would expose us all. Montana relented. Well, the southern chapters didn't quite follow through. Some died, but the ones that count are now in custody."

The next to arrive was Mercy, along with Torment. Neither looked happy as they sat at the bar.

"Where is Montana?" Mercy asked.

"With Bane in the mailroom," Malice grumbled.

"And Shame?"

"In the clinic."

"What the fuck happened?" Mercy asked.

Malice shrugged as I took another drink.

I was in the dark, just like everyone else.

Hearing boots, I steeled myself for what was about to happen as we all turned to see Montana walk into the main room with his brother, Arizona, next to him.

It was odd not seeing the brothers at each other's throats. Though I noticed neither looked butt hurt that their old man was dead. It was common knowledge that the Stone brothers had no love for their pops, and even less for each other.

They were a truly dysfunctional family.

The only person the Stone brothers gave a damn about was their mother, Virginia, who had yet to show up. Not that I expected any tears from her, not after what George did to her. I wouldn't be surprised if the woman danced on the fucker's grave.

"Clubhouse is on lockdown until further notice," Montana began, and I stiffened as he looked directly at me. "That includes the women and children. Got one hour to get everyone here before I lock the doors."

Sliding from my stool, I said, "She won't come."

My president sneered, "Don't give a fuck. You either get her ass here or I will have her dragged here kicking and screaming. She bears the club mark. Her ass better be here."

"No."

"Did you just tell me fucking no?"

"Not forcing her to come here. Not after what you did to her."

"What's going on?" Mercy asked, standing between us.

"Montana threatened Delany yesterday. Then he took Harlow away from her, before kicking her from the clubhouse," I admitted as Fury, Payne, and Malice came to stand behind me. "My wife may bear the club's mark, but she wants nothing to do with this club. I will not force her to come here. Ever."

"She doesn't have a choice, brother." Mercy sighed. "The club is on lockdown."

"No," I said firmly, standing my ground. "I will lock her down myself. But she isn't coming here."

"Fuck this shit. Malice, go get the bitch!"

Malice growled, crossing his arms over his chest, unmoving.

"He can't," I stated.

"Why the fuck not?"

"Because as of yesterday, she also bears the Golden Mark. You can't touch her."

"What the FUCK!" Montana roared, grabbing me by my shirt, hauling me close. "Who the fuck marked her?"

"I did."

There, standing in the doorway, stood Remi Ivenok Doherty, with Sypher next to her, along with Dakota and Virginia Stone, standing behind them.

No one said a word as we all took our seats in the boardroom. It wasn't every day that the wife of a President of a rival club showed up. More importantly, it was the very wife this club was blood bound to protect, thanks to a deal Montana made with Reaper and Maxim Fedorov. Even if Montana wanted to, he couldn't touch a single hair on Remi's head without bringing the full force of the criminal underworld down upon his head.

"I'm going to make this quick," Remi began, glaring at Montana. "Delany Calloway is Golden. If I hear that you or anyone in this club has threatened her again, in any way, the Golden Skulls will retaliate."

"You can't make that claim, Remi."

"No, but I can as a patched brother of the Golden Skulls," Sypher stated clearly.

"I'm not fucking around," Remi added. "Maxim Fedorov has offered her protection as a favor to me for his part in this whole fucked-up mess you three fucking morons constructed. So whatever hiccup you have regarding her, get over it. Fast. She is innocent of this life."

"Got balls coming into my club and ordering me around, Remi. Any other person and I would gut you where you stand." Montana grinned.

"You don't even know how big my balls are," Remi clipped, getting to her feet. "Think of Delany as Switzerland. She's off-limits."

"Fair enough," Montana relented, smiling. "Won't touch the bitch."

"Legacy," Remi growled. "Her name is Legacy, and you will show her the fucking respect she deserves."

Montana reluctantly saluted Remi as she held her head high, walking out of the boardroom with Sypher following behind her.

"Hey, kid," Montana spoke, halting the young man, who turned to face him. "You step into my club again. For any reason, I will keep my promise. Understand?"

Sypher nodded, closing the door behind him.

"Now that that's over with." Montana groaned. "Why are you here, Mom?"

"I'm here for Happy and to tell you I am leaving. I'm going to Oklahoma to stay with Kansas and Kali for a while. Kali's due soon and I want to be there for the birth of my grandchild."

"What about Dad?"

"What about him?"

"He's dead, Mom. Gonna be talk if you are not at his funeral."

"Think I give a shit about that?"

"Not going either," Dakota said.

"Me either," Arizona added.

"This is just fucking great," Montana growled. "So, the three of you are going to leave me holding the fucking bag? I get Mom refusing to go, but you two. We need to stand united."

Arizona chuckled. "You've got to be fucking kidding me. We haven't been united since the accident. And I can fucking guarantee you that Kansas won't show. After he heard what Pops did to Mom, Kansas wouldn't even give the asshole the satisfaction of pissing on his grave. You are the head honcho of this club. You represent the family."

"I can order you to attend," Montana sneered.

"Try it," Dakota threatened.

"Where is Michael?" Virginia interrupted before Dakota and Montana started throwing fists.

"Happy is in the mailroom."

"Why?"

"Club business," Montana huffed.

"Montana Ethan Stone, let Michael go. Right now."

"Can't do that, Mom. Brother may know shit that Dad was into."

"He doesn't know shit and you know it!"

"He stays."

Virginia got to her feet, straightening her skirt, before saying, "You do this, Montana, and I will never forgive you. This club has punished me enough. I will not allow my son to do the same."

"Not punishing you, Mom. Just protecting the club."

"Careful, Montana," Virginia warned. "Your dad once said the same thing."

I watched as Montana flinched before leaning back in his chair when his mother and brothers left, leaving just the board members. I didn't envy the fucker, but he was digging his hole faster than any of us could stop him. I was willing to hear him out, but if the past was any indication, whatever he had planned didn't bode well for the club.

"Contrary to everyone's belief, I don't give a fuck about my dad. Fucker made his bed, and he got what he deserved. What I do fucking care about is that one of my brothers was killed in the crossfire. For that alone... I want payback."

"Got no idea who did it," Malice stated, leaning back in his chair as Montana turned to glare at me.

"Want to tell everyone why, Storm?"

Taking a deep breath, I admitted, "You already know. I cut the surveillance cameras before I snuck in last night to kill George myself. Had I known that he was on someone else's menu, I wouldn't have bothered."

"Who else was in the clubhouse last night?" Mercy asked.

"Silver," Payne muttered, as Malice growled menacingly. Payne held up his hand and added, "Know it wasn't her, brother, so chill the fuck out. But she does live here."

"Wasn't her," Malice huffed, crossing his arms.

"How can you be sure?" Mercy smirked, leaning forward, calling Malice out. When the fucker glared at Mercy, before storming out of the boardroom, Mercy threw his head back and laughed.

"Wanna let me in on the joke?" Montana asked.

"Fucker has her room staked out."

I smirked at that, shaking my head.

We all knew that Malice had history with Silver, but the moody fucker gave nothing away. One minute he was ignoring her, the next he rode hell for leather to protect her.

"Who we gonna get to find the fucker, Prez?" Fury asked, bringing us back on point. "Shame was our intelligence officer. While he was a brother, he wasn't open about his personal life. Does anyone know if he had family?"

Everyone shook their heads.

While it was common knowledge that club rules stated brothers performed certain duties for the club, nowhere did it state that a brother had to inform anyone about their personal lives? As long as that personal life didn't interfere with the club, no one cared. The only time that rule was void was when the two collided, like with Fury and his daughters and my relationship with Delany.

"Where is the prospect?" Montana asked.

"In Shame's office," Payne offered.

"Go get him," Montana ordered. Leaning his arms on the table, he sighed, hanging his head.

I knew he was feeling Shame's death just like the rest of us were. Shame was a damn good brother. He was going to be missed.

"Montana, we've got a lot going on, brother," Mercy said to the room. "We've got the shit with your dad and Satan's Angels, which, by the way, the Southern clubs didn't clean house like they were told to. Now, we've got a Golden Legacy in the club whose father's past is raising eyebrows in the media. And with the Fireman's Ball coming up in a few days, those vultures are going to be up our asses the second we show, especially now that Storm's marriage to her has leaked to the press."

"What happens if we don't show?" Fury asked.

"The Soulless Sinners are the biggest contributors to my father's charity," I said, getting everyone's attention. "If the club doesn't show, it will raise eyebrows. Regardless of what we have going on here, we have to make an appearance."

Payne returned with Pippen.

"Any chance that shit will blow over?" Montana asked.

"No. The press is having a field day with this. They are splashing pictures of Delany's father all over the pages. The murders are front page now, along with that child killer."

"What child killer?" Malice inquired, sneaking back into the room.

"There is some fucknut loose in the city, killing homeless kids. Storm's sister, Robin, is leading the investigation. Fucker has killed four kids already."

Malice growled, reaching for his phone. Everyone knew Malice had a soft spot for kids. Growing up in the system hardened him to what kids had to endure. Hell, his own charity, the Foundation, devoted time, money, and resources to children of all ages. Anything to help them get off the streets.

"Take a seat, Prospect," Montana ordered, as we all looked at the prospect. Pippen was a good kid. Solid and hitting all the benchmarks to becoming a branded brother. Only the strong survived here. Kids like Pippen made their way to the Big Apple with dreams and hopes of making it big. Unlike most who failed miserably, Pippen was one of the few who survived. His little start-up hit it big right before graduation and when he landed in the Big Apple, the kid was already worth millions. Needing a bit of direction, the kid sought out the Sinners and never looked back.

As a club prospect, Pippen was required to devote twenty hours a week to the club while maintaining his business. He had one year to double his net worth while paying his dues to the club. Fail to accomplish that, the club would cut him loose. If he could pull off the impossible, then Pippen would become an intern, where a branded brother would sponsor him for five years, during which time he would be required to devote thirty hours a week to the club while tripling his net worth and expanding abroad. If he could accomplish that, then and only then would Pippen become a branded brother.

The Soulless Sinners didn't want slackers, weak pussies who couldn't succeed. The Soulless Sinners weren't for everyone. It took a certain breed of man to succeed in business while maintaining their allegiance to the brotherhood. Only brothers with the determination and drive to succeed in life reaped the rewards.

"How long have you been prospecting?" Montana asked, as the kid looked around the table before saying, "Hit the year mark last Monday."

"Storm, how's his business?"

Reaching for my phone, Pippen quickly confirmed, "Doubled my net worth three months ago, Prez."

Seeing that he was correct, I nodded.

"Need a volunteer," Montana said, looking around the room when I raised my hand.

"It's my turn."

"You gonna have time with everything else going on?"

"I can do it."

"Prospect, you're off probation. You are now an intern. Anyone got any objections?"

The brothers all shook their heads.

"Good. Hate to throw you into the deep end, kid, but with Shame gone, you are the only other person in the club who runs an investigative service. Gonna need you to comb through Shame's computers and get yourself caught up on the jobs he was working on. Storm, get with Fury and consolidate Shame's businesses, sell off what you can, then transfer the funds into the club accounts."

"Don't you want to wait and see if he had family?" Fury asked.

"No."

"Malice, call Father Dominic and have him set everything up for Shame."

"What about fucknut?"

"Bastard is going straight to the crematorium. I'll have the company put out a release. No funeral."

"That's gonna raise eyebrows, brother," Mercy said.

"Don't give a fuck," Montana bit back. "Everyone, get out. Storm, stay."

As the boardroom emptied, Montana waited until Mercy closed the door behind him. I didn't know what the fuck Montana wanted to talk about, but whatever it was, I knew it had to do with Delany.

Rubbing his hands down his face, he took a deep breath before saying, "The club rules are clear, Storm. When you married Delany, you did so without permission from Reaper. Now, I gotta deal with that fucker again."

"Let me stop you right there. Mercy has already given me the options."

"The only option is for you to get her pregnant again, and fast, because I don't see Reaper letting this slide. Not after my fuckup. Plus, this shit with her dad isn't helping. You need to get with Pippen and have him do a deep dive. Maybe he can find out what the hell really happened. Shit Shame found was already shady."

Leaning back in my chair, I took a chance and asked, "Does the name Mirage mean anything to you?"

Montana frowned. "No. Who the fuck is that?"

"Did some digging myself. Seems during 9/11 this club wasn't just out there to help find survivors. The club, specifically George and the Rejects, were looking for a man named Mirage."

"Why do I get the feeling I'm not going to like what you say next?"

"Because you're not. Mirage also went by Alexander Goldman. The son of Xavier Goldman, the original founder of the Golden Skulls."

"Jesus fuck," Montana grumbled. "What the hell is it with that damn fucking club?"

"Your guess is as good as mine. Just so there is clear transparency. David Campbell, Delany's dad, was born David Campbell Goldman. The youngest son of Xaiver Goldman. My wife is a direct descendant of the original founder."

"Do I want to know where you got this information?"

"Not particularly," I muttered as Montana shook his head, smirking. Even he had to admit that Sypher was damn good.

The young man could find dirt on God himself if he wanted to.

"Did the fucking kid at least leave you a file?"

Reaching into my pocket, I produced a thumb drive. "Better. Sypher gave me this. Said everything we need is on here."

"Give it to Pippen."

"You might want to reconsider that."

"Why?"

"Because Sypher also found information that your dad was a member of the Society . If the board finds out, it will cause an uproar. We may disagree with the Golden Skulls on a lot of shit, but we are all in accord when it comes to the Society ."

"You think my dad had something to do with David Campbell's investigation and death, don't you?"

"More than that. I know your dad was working with the Society to bring down the Golden Skulls. My wife isn't the problem. Sypher said we won't have a problem until Reaper takes the chair. We need to take care of this before he tells him."

Before Montana could reply, the boardroom door opened, and Pippen stuck his head in. "Sorry to interrupt, but we have a problem. The police are here. I mean, everywhere. They found a body at the dock."