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This is our reality. We are men made up of our pasts, be it good or bad. We are built upon the decisions we’ve made and the way they have colored our souls.
Loot is the man he is because of what he experienced after Katrina. He used the chance he was given to help people who wouldn’t get the same opportunity he did. He’s done a fuck ton of good because of it.
To know that there are people out there being taken advantage of and used for the gain of the Riding Rebels and Martinez is like a machete to the gut. None of us will stand for it, but that doesn’t mean havoc hasn’t already been sowed. The likelihood that we’ll be able to undo it all is slim.
Tack’s voice is cool and detached, but we know that is the way he deals with his overwhelming anger, “What is the plan, Prez?”
“We can’t let it stand,” Lucifer states, but his words hardly soothe the need for vengeance whipping around the much too small space. “We need to come up with a plan, then we’ll go in and shut that shit down.”
“Expect retribution,” Scythe grunts.
I glance at my best friend and know from the fire burning in his eyes that he’s not trying to dissuade anyone, least of all our Prez, with his words. He’s only giving us the warning he knows we need.
Lucifer curtly nods, “Good. The RRMC are a group of boys pretending to be men. They have no honor or loyalty.” He scoffs, “Look at how long it’s taken them to get their leadership in order. No one trusts each other and they’re all driven by greed.”
My gut twists because by going after them then we’ll be putting everyone we hold dear in danger. We’ll not only have to take down the Riding Rebels, but we’ll have to ensure that there is no collateral damage—and that includes the people whose lives they’ve destroyed by pimping them out with smack as their favorite John.
“We need to make a plan to not only disassemble their flop house, but to protect all of the women of the club,” my voice is insistent. “I know that I haven’t claimed her officially, but I’m including Sioux in that. I’m not going to go fuck with the Rebels if she’s not going to be protected by the club no matter what.”
“Sioux is family,” Lucifer sounds affronted by even the thought that we wouldn’t do everything to protect her. “We all know you’ve been waiting to bring claiming her to the table until she’s recovered.”
“She’s gonna fight you every step of the way,” Tack snorts which causes some of the tension in the room to break.
“I know she will,” pride fills my voice as I throw my brother a smirk. “It’ll make earning her loyalty and heart that much sweeter.”
Tack’s face twists before he fakes gagging. His tone is incredulous, “What are you, some sort of poet now?”
I shrug one shoulder and shift slightly against the wall I’m leaning against. I don’t give a single fuck if my brothers make fun of me. As long as I prove to my woman what she means to me in the end, I’m good with it. There’s no fucking shame in being in touch with my emotions…at least when it comes to my woman.
“I’m going to put Wrenley on lock down. There’s no fucking way I can let her get mixed up with the Riding Rebels again. They might try and come after her just because Anarchy’s obsession with my woman is what got him killed,” Prodigal growls.
All our eyes turn to our brother. He’s mad, sure, but there’s something else underneath that emotion. Something like terror. I’ve never known Prodigal to be terrified of anything, but I can understand why he’d feel that way with his woman—his wife and old lady—on the line.
Still, there’s something else going on and I tilt my head as I study him to try and figure out what it is.
“She’s pregnant,” Lucifer’s voice rings out in the silence of the room and even though we’ve been discussing how to dismantle a drug house and forced prostitution ring that will, no doubt, involve bloodshed, he sounds elated.
Prodigal swallows hard, his nod jerky as he looks toward our Prez. It’s clear that he’s not looking at his leader right now, but his father. “She just found out last week,” his voice cracks slightly before he clears his throat. “We’re not telling anyone quite yet, but I think you need to know. I won’t risk my wife or my baby for those sewer rats.”
“My first grandbaby,” Lucifer fucking sighs and all our heads whip around to look at the man who is all hard edges except when it comes to his old lady, Cherie, and the other women who breathe life into the DSMC.
I swear I see tears in the older man’s eyes, but it’s probably just a trick of the light.
Or maybe the man has been looking forward to meeting the next generation of blood flowing through the DSMC. He’s always been a lifer and he’s given so damn much to the club.
“I’m sure Fleur won’t be far behind,” Hacker throws out offhandedly, his eyes still glued to his tablet as he works to pull up all the information he can on Hustle.
Lucifer’s eyes go from soft to full-blown annihilation as he turns his gaze on our resident tech genius. The silence in the room is deafening and it has Hacker pausing with his fingers hovering over the screen. He glances around before swallowing hard when he looks at our Prez.
“Don’t talk about my baby girl like that,” Lucifer growls.
Almost anyone else would be scared shitless in this moment, but not Hacker. The man wasn’t born into the club the same way Tack and Prodigal were, but he did grow up right along side the two men. He’s been around the club far longer than I have, and long before he was able to be anything more than a kid who marveled at the bikes and the brotherhood.
Hacker grins and winks at Lucifer. “You’ll be thrilled when she winds up pregnant.” His eyebrows furrow together and he muses, “I wonder if they’ll know which one of the brothers is the father or if that shit doesn’t matter.”
“Oh fuck,” Scythe groans under his breath and takes a step away from the wall and closer to Hacker in case this shit goes sideways.
“Talk about cementing alliances, huh?” The grin Hacker flashes Lucifer is wide and a little taunting.
