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That much was true, though she wasn’t a prospect with my former club. She’d been one of our dancers, a contortionist at Royal Road, the Nashville chapter’s entertainment venue. Come to find out, Maren had actually been a spy for our rival club. A prospect with the Asphalt Gods MC in Arkansas, she’d been sent to take us down. Nearly succeeded, thanks to me.
“Nah, she’s a President of the Gods,” he said, shocking me.
“President?” I’d known Merc was full of shit. I made a noise, revealing my doubt.
“I shit you not. Girl got her own chapter now. Don’t have to go by Spooky no more.”
Tilting my glass, I downed my whiskey. Though the Asphalt Gods MC patched women, made a rare few Presidents, I didn’t believe Merc for a fucking second. Practically letting the glass fall, I wiped my mouth and got up to leave.
“Not the girl I’m looking for. This one just earned her patch,” I said over my shoulder.
The bitch had fooled me. She had me fall for her, fall in fucking love with her and then sent her club into to ambush mine just to earn the damn thing. I even found out about her plan beforehand and still fell for her lies. That was what good pussy could do to a man. No wonder the Royal Bastards MC wouldn’t patch women. Women were nothing but ruthless snakes.
Merc called after me, “This one too. Just earned her patch, but she did so well, Scar gave her a chapter of her own.”
That about stopped me in my tracks. “Bullshit,” I barked. Though Scar was the President of the Asphalt Gods MC’s Mother Chapter out in Tucson, Arizona. It wasn’t privileged intel.
“Wait. She wasn’t the one who let the Gods into Royal Road, was she?” Merc’s words ended me.
Biting my lip, I sealed my eyes, remembering it –her betraying me. I couldn’t speak.
“You’re the loser who fell for her?” Merc laughed so hard that he clutched his beer belly.
Turning, I pointed my finger, warning him, “You better watch it old man.” I didn’t want to kick this elderly biker’s ass. I very well might kill him. Defeated, I sat back down on my stool hard.
Merc halted his laugh. His serious tone further humiliated me. “So, that’s how she earned Scar’s favor. She took you Nashville bastards down a peg or two. Took y’all down at Royal Road’s famous Halloween bash.”
“She put my whole club in danger that night, my daughter too. Folks died,” I said, knowing I had also had a hand in their demise by believing in Maren. Believing she wouldn’t deceive me.
“It sent aftershocks through the whole underbelly.” Merc spoke of the underground society we existed in, of outlaws and low lives.
“It was months ago.” Almost three months to be exact.
“Folks are still talking about it. Not every day a gang gets into a Royal Bastards’ clubhouse.”
I scoffed. That sure as hell wasn’t true, but it wasn’t every day that a leader couldn’t keep it under wraps.
“Bout took out heads of many a chapter attending that night, too, I hear,” he added.
And there was the rub. My president couldn’t deny how bad it had been. Royal Bastards from all over had been there that night. It didn’t matter if we turned around and about massacred half the Arkansas chapter of the Gods. Their raid had put too many notable members in danger. Not to mention my President’s new wife and unborn children.
Hanging my head, I said, “Yeah, but they survived because of my warnings, too. I alerted my brothers. We defeated them.” I had a part in that somehow taking out the Gods’ President, Killer. Even though he knocked me in the process.
“Not everyone survived?” he asked.
“You remember old Buzzard, I’m sure. He met his end that night.” The aging member wasn’t the only one I’d heard. Even though I hadn’t been told much of anything.
When I came to after the ambush, my President had me hanging in between two chains like a prisoner out in our barn. Where we took our enemies. Where a brother, when he was out bad, went to die. Kingpin was worse for wear having been shot in the foot and beaten by the look of his blood cover battered face. Of course, he threatened my life. I had begged for mine like a bitch. Instead of killing me, Prez demanded I go find the spy I had trusted. My brothers saw me off, each threatening me with their guns drawn.
The only way I knew about Buzzard’s death was because eventually I contacted my wife Chloe, asking after my daughter, Haven, who Kingpin claimed survived the raid. She had. If my memory serves me right, I had heard Maren was going to kill her. But nothing about the night was clear other than the fact Maren betrayed me.
Talking to Chloe, I learned my kids were under house arrest until I brought the spy back for the club to punish. My wife wasn’t sure she would be there when I returned, and that was fine by me. We’d been on the outs for years. Chloe said she would most likely leave the kids with the club. Spread her wings, she called it. Bitch was set on leaving. Two of our kids weren’t even mine. Kingpin didn’t care anything about that. He knew how I cared for little Ivy and Angel.
Haven, the daughter I had actually fathered, my sixteen-year-old, had been about to go off to boarding school. Something I’d looked forward to as Buzzard’s grandkid, Aden, who was nineteen and wanted to prospect had eyes for her. But her being held hostage by the club put her departure on hold. By all accounts, my daughter was also pissed that I got her boyfriend’s granddad killed. I wasn’t allowed to speak to her. Needless to say, Chloe let me have it. I haven’t talked to her since.
Merc bowed his balding head. “It’s a real shame. But it was Buzzard’s time. He went out fighting, I hear. What do you want with this girl, Spooky?”
“I just need to talk to her about something,” I said, trying to keep my true intentions hidden.
