Page 29

Kid frowned. He had nothing against Frog, but he barely knew the guy. Lionel deserved to be patched first.

“If you’re all okay with me hanging around until then,” Frog offered.

Kevlar waved a hand, dismissing his words. “We figure out Frog now, and in October, at the Halloween Thrill Ride, Lionel is on the table.” He slammed his hand on the table, making it shake.

Frog sat back, glancing from man to man before tossing a look to Lionel, who stood stone-faced by the door.

“All in favor of following Jameson’s recommendation to make Frog our secretary, say aye.” Kevlar raised his arm for emphasis. “Aye.”

Kid narrowed his gaze at his brother. Kevlar had worded that rather peculiarly. As the president of the chapter, in theory, it was his call whether to allow Frog to wear the bottom rocker. However, Jameson was the be-all and end-all. He was the president of all presidents. What he said went.

Kid had the sneaking suspicion Kevlar’s hand was forced a bit here. While Torch and Kid could vote down the measure, he suspected doing so would earn the wrath of Jameson. And if there was one motherfucker no one wanted to piss off, it was that voodoo-loving asshole.

So, he did what any solid vice president would do and lifted his palm in the air to support his brother. “Aye.” Though there was no enthusiasm in his vote.

Turning from Kevlar to Kid and then Frog, Torch groaned. His hand went up. “Aye.”

“The ayes have it,” Kevlar announced and slapped his palm on the table. “Now let’s get loaded.”

He concluded the meeting, and every man shook hands and clapped their new secretary on the back. As they made their way out of the room, Kid paused next to Lionel.

“You’re next,” he said.

The man grinned and dipped his chin. “I know.”

“I think Kev’s stalling cause he ain’t got a good road name for you,” Kid suggested.

Lionel chuckled. “As long as it isn’t Pooter, I’ll be fine.”

Kid furrowed his brows and snickered. “What?”

Lionel shrugged. “My family has been calling me Pooter since I was born. I hate it.”

Kevlar seemed to appear out of nowhere. Kid had thought he’d walked out into the crowd at the bar, but apparently, he’d lingered by the door.

“Pooter it is,” he said, pointing toward Lionel.

Rolling his eyes, he threw his head back. “Dammit.”

Kid sniggered. “Should’ve never told us that.”

“Better learn to love it.” Kevlar laughed as he finally left the back room, the door closing behind him.

Kid placed a hand on Lionel’s shoulder. “Your road name could be worse.”

“How?”

“You could be Baby Boy,” he said with a wink, referring to the nickname Kid had gone by as a Roughneck Rider.

That was the thing about those monikers, the man who went by it had little say in the matter. His brothers branded him with a handle. A man could hope for something intimidating. At least Kid wasn’t the only one saddled with a benign title.

18

Carrie

Somehow, Carrie made it through an emergency one-on-one session with her counselor and kept four cut-and-color appointments afterward. Emotionally drained didn’t begin to describe how she felt after her last client left the salon.

Flopping into the chair of her station, she let her head fall back. She did it. Her day wasn’t easy, but she survived. Aside from sobbing inside her therapist’s office, she’d held herself together. The distraction of her work kept her mind busy.