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They’d been warned when Harley and Cowboy had called for trucks to be sent twice. By the third call, there was a fleet on standby, and the women had filled them. Each woman dared her husband to say anything when they arrived back at Rage. None had the balls to because one of the old ladies mentioned cutting them off for a month. Nobody wanted to be banned from making love to their wife.
In truth, the old ladies hadn’t been self-centred. They bought clothes for the kids, new tees, jeans and belts for their husbands, and then spoiled themselves. Drake had a whole new wardrobe of Harley tees and other brands. Manny and Fish, who’d drawn the short straw, did say the women stuck together even if they didn’t want to buy something in a store. This showed they were willing to meet the brothers halfway.
Since then, the women had chosen a date once a month to go on a spree. Groceries, Drake noted, they were happy to shop online for. It made him smile. Penny was the only one who insisted on weekly shopping, whereas everyone else avoided it. The kids had taken up their activities again, much to Aria’s relief, who’d been freaking out about missing training.
Gunner had been in the doghouse when he’d cut her daily sessions to twice a week. And she refused to give him love. She had her lessons back and was ecstatic. Drake also noted how Gunner declined to stay with her now. He stayed outside while two prospects remained inside.
Apparently, Aria had begun to learn tricks, and Gunner had a meltdown at the first somersault Aria did that landed wrong. Aria and Gunner agreed he waited outside from then on in. Aria was practising Freestyle (which gave Gunner a heart attack), Downhill, the Super-G, Ski Jumping, and Slalom. Gunner had even caved and started taking Aria to the nearest ski school in Terry Peak, an hour and ten minutes away.
Things were back to normal apart from the obvious surveillance Liz (Phoe’s Head of Security) organised. Including the shadow guards and the women having double the amount of guys on them. Venomous Fangs had been seen in Rapid City, mainly drive-bys flexing their muscle. There’d been a violent run-in with Unwanted Bastards, which left fifteen more Fangs dead.
Drake believed that the severed heads of the last lot of Fangs Fury ordered into Rapid City had sent the right message. Even worse, Delta Force had mounted them on pikes looking over Fury’s fence. Rage had been scouted, but there’d been no other action since the prospect attack. Instead, there had been a skirmish in Spearfish with Hellfire and a third one in Piedmont with the Devil’s Scythe. By now, Drake reckoned they’d lost nearly sixty members, but the fuckers still kept coming.
On arriving at Rage, Drake was amused to see it decked out with swagging in the national colours and more flags than usual. There was also a huge pastry bar waiting, cheering up those who’d been kicked out of our homes this morning. By the time they had filled their guts, had a meeting, and pissed about, it was time for the morning parade. RC did things differently this year.
A morning parade followed by cookouts and fairs in the parks. They’d be heading back to Reading Hall to see what Phoe had planned for them after.
As Drake took his place further down the street to watch, Ace and Fish flanked him. They’d agreed to split up into groups of five rather than be a threatening mass of bikers. And each group had headed in a different direction to keep themselves a small target.
Drake snorted. It would be fun to have Fury target them all with a rocket launcher and take out the whole of Rage. Not. Lowrider and Ezra joined his group, and they were all chatting as they heard the sound of faint cheers.
“Here it comes,” Lowrider muttered.
“Dude, show some enthusiasm,” Drake taunted, and Lowrider scowled.
“It’s the 4th of July, man. I should be laid in bed, fucking Lindsey’s brains out and then lounging around in the sun with my woman and kids. No, I get booted out of bed at six, made to help get the children ready, and then load up the car. And I didn’t even get my damn coffee until I got here!” Lowrider grumbled.
Ezra scowled.
“Why the fuck are you scowling, asshole?” Ace demanded. “You don’t have a woman booting you out of a warm, comfortable bed.”
“No, but I have a sister that kept calling until I got my ass on a bike,” Ezra countered.
“Wondered who Lindsey was pestering.” Lowrider yawned. Ezra sent him a disbelieving look.
“Are you for fuckin’ real? Couldn’t you have stopped her?” Ezra demanded.
“No coffee, no breakfast,” Lowrider stated darkly.
Ezra rolled his eyes.
“Are you believing this shit?” Ezra questioned Apache.
“Don’t ask me. Silvie threatened me with no sex for a month if I didn’t get up,” Apache complained.
“How is she doing? The pain lessening?” Ace asked.
Drake turned to Apache, also wanting an answer.
“No, this SPD** stuff is kicking her ass. I’m going to get snipped. No more pregnancies. The next would kill her,” Apache said.
Four appalled looks stared at Apache.
“Kill her?” Drake wheezed, suddenly finding it hard to breathe.
“No, no!” Apache denied seeing how they’d taken his words. “I meant it would cause untold agony for her. She’s doing this hydrotherapy, which she says helps. Seems swimming is the best thing for SPD. Whether she will be able to reduce the pain, nobody knows or even if she’ll be able to walk again. Silvie describes the pain like her pelvic bones are grinding against each other, wearing themselves down. The wheelchair is best for her now,” Apache explained.
Drake winced. It sounded freaking painful.
