Floating

by Natasha Thomas

  By the grace of God, or whoever the fuck you pray to, Steel made it just in time for the big reveal. Getting kicked in the face for good measure. His wife who, was lying across the backseat of their truck, screaming bloody murder at us if we didn’t produce her, “Useless, wife deserting, super sperm carrying, soon to be castrated husband,” again her words not mine, immediately calmed, but only slightly by his appearance. The fact she caused him a modicum of pain, in comparison to what she was going through, seemed to help, too.

  It did NOT make it better having Ronnie, Priss, Kendall, and Ade who was now firmly entrenched in their pussy posse there. They were supposed to help Lou get through the pain. Keep her calm for fuck’s sake, while we were waiting on Steel.

  Did they do any of that? Fuck no! What they did do was stand off to the side. Smart women, they stayed out of the foot/kick, danger zone and proceed to laugh their fucking asses off with every insult Lou threw our way.

  With those insults, Lou managed to completely emasculate a quarter of the MC in one afternoon. Give the woman a gold star because that shit’s never been done before, and I doubted it would be again. Reaper, who is now a grandpa for the second time, is a clever fucking man. He showed up, saw what was going down, got back on his Hog, and took the fuck off. Not to be seen again until Lou’s ass was firmly planted in a hospital bed, sleeping.

  I mean the man loves the shit out of his daughter in-law, but there’s no way in hell he would willingly throw himself under the bus to take her crap. In Reaper’s eyes, Steel is the asshole that married her, so Steel should be the asshole to put up with her raging temper. I totally agreed.

  Adelyn is a permanent fixture in Blackwater, now. With her came the entirety of Vengeance MC, on a regular basis. This was not a bad thing, either. The hog roasts were always a guaranteed good time, at least. The basics of why Ade is here, and her background have become common knowledge.

  Ade was found abandoned as an infant. Being cared for by Diesel’s mom, Emily, before CPS took her and put her in foster care for years. Eventually, Ade made her way back to Vengeance and has been either with them or under their protection ever since. Most of the club knows there’s a fuck ton more to the story than that, but it isn’t our business. The only people that know the whole story are Priest, Pipe, and Reaper. Needless to say there’s no fucking way any of those guys are talking.

  Ade is an awesome fucking chick. She gets along with everyone. Knows what the club stands for and what’s off limits. The women, all of them, club whores included love her. The brothers want to fuck her. I don’t blame them. She’s fucking hot. Ade is also a truly gifted tattooist. It’s like winning the jackpot for the brother that manages to tie her down. The only issue, having her around the club all the time, for BBQ’s, parties, and family events, is Reaper. Just a hint, Ade isn’t the issue.

  Not one fucking brother attached or not, gets within two feet of Ade without Reaper snarling like a rabid dog. Afterwards, he denies he gives the first shit about her. Then fucks whatever club whore or slutty hang around he can get his hands on first, to prove it further. The stupid bastard isn’t fooling anyone. You could be a blind, deaf, socially inept, fucking turtle and still know Reaper is hot for his employee.

  Take away the seventeen-year age difference, at the forty-six that Reaper is and Ade’s almost thirty; does it really matter if she’s perfect for him? Age is just a fucking number, anyway. The miserable bastard needs to work his shit out, or step aside so one of the line-up of brothers can have a shot, if he doesn’t want her.

  I’m not even going to touch on the subject of Tank and Priss, other than to say nothing, ABSOLUTELY, nothing has changed there.

  For us, my woman turned thirty a few weeks ago. Aside from dropping to one knee and putting the biggest diamond this side of the Canadian border on her finger, nothing else has changed. She said, “Yes,” by the way; not that no was an option. I was the lucky motherfucker that got the best present on her birthday.

  Drunk sex with Ronnie is fucking INSANE. I don’t just mean she lowers any of her non-existent inhibitions. No fucking way. My woman turns wild, demanding, insatiable, and I love every second of it. We didn’t make it further than to close the front door, after coming home from Rough Shod, before she basically attacked me. In turn, I fucked her into the wall. That shit was hot. Every single biting, hair pulling, nail digging minute of it. I made her promise me, before I let her come, that she’d get drunk for me regularly, if this is what she came home like.

  Neither of us is in a rush to get married. I want to give her the chance to plan exactly what she wants with no pressure and no dramas. This is the only time she’s getting hitched, so she better make it worth it. Ronnie agreed to plan it all out. We set the date a little under six months from now.

  She’s just starting out with the online gallery now named, ‘KAV-e-Art.’ I know, I thought it was weird when she first told me, too. What it stands for is fucking beautiful, though. I may have fucked her as many times as there are letters to show how much I love the name, after I found out what it was. K for Kellen, A for Arrow, V for Veronica, and the E stood for eternally. It’s the perfect name, and she is even more perfect for acknowledging us with it.

  Clinton and Stephan came to visit not long ago, for a week and a half. That visit was akin to having to lay your fucking bike down. You don’t want to have to do it, but it’s a necessity, and you practically cry your way through it. I’m not saying I don’t like the dudes. I’m sure they’ve got good hearts and are good people. I just don’t fucking like when ANY man, gay or otherwise, has his hands constantly on my woman. They are no exception. Thankfully, because Ronnie would have flipped her shit at the alternative, they made it out of Blackwater in one piece. I decreed I would be on a run if they ever come back again. I fucking mean it, too. It might make me sound like a pussy saying I can’t handle being around two touchy, feely, gay dudes that have no interest in getting in my woman’s pants, but it is what it is. I can’t and won’t change it.

  That brings us to now, and the Church meeting I don’t want to be at. Backing my bike into its usual spot in the second row, third bike from the end, I swing my leg over and dismount. Tank, Glock, Saint, and Dagger pull in within seconds of each other, so we make our way inside together. Turning to my brothers I ask, “Anyone know what the fucking go is?” They all look just as confused as I feel. I assume we’ve all been kept in the dark.

  Dagger, my twenty-seven-year-old fully patched brother, who is more deadly with a dagger than a veteran hunter, hence the road name, answers for everyone, “No fucking clue. Got a text at fucking one this morning with the summons. Must be important though, even the brothers on runs have been called in.”

  Fuck. That’s news to me. I can’t think of a time when a run has been cut short or called off. Probably because they aren’t. Like as in, never.

  Taking our respective seats around the table that’s big enough to seat twenty-six comfortably, we all settle in awaiting Priest to arrive. The matching hand carved timber and leather padded chairs aren’t the most comfortable things on the planet, but we aren’t usually in here for too long. The brothers that don’t fit at the table take their seats against the walls, which are lined with similar chairs. We lapse into silence when Priest enters, takes his seat, followed by Reaper, and Pipe banging the gavel. Signalling Church to order Priest begins.

  “We won’t be taking minutes today, Phil, so take a load off,” he says to our secretary. “I’m not gonna take up a lot of your time today, boys. If you’re anything like me and have a woman at home. You’d probably much prefer to be home in bed with her than sittin here with a bunch of dirty bikers.” Uproarious laughter rings out around the table because it’s true, we would. Mostly, it’s because the nervous tension in the room needs an outlet.

  Placing both hands on the table in front of him Priest’s face turns serious.

  “I’m gonna ask for your patience while I get this shit on the table. No questions and no fuckin int
erruptions. You got questions, wait till the end and see Pipe. He’ll do his best to answer them all. Have I got your agreement?” A chorus of “Aye’s,” go up around the room before Priest relaxes back into his chair at the head of the table.

  Nodding at Pipe on his right and Reaper on his left, he goes on to lay out the information we all came to hear. I’m not sure what we were expecting, but what came out around the table that day was NOT it.

  “This vendetta Satan’s Sons have against us has been goin on for years. Up until late last night, we had no fuckin idea what their grievance was regardless of how many times we approached askin them for answers. As you all know, this shit culminated in my daughter being kidnapped and tortured, and Arrow’s Ol lady bein near fatally shot.” My heart speeds up at the reference to Ronnie’s shooting. It’s been over a year, well and truly now, but it doesn’t change the fact it still infuriates me every time I hear or think about it. It probably always will. “All we knew for sure was Isabella Carmichael was involved with them somehow, and that’s about fuckin it. Her involvement is still in question, and I doubt we’ll ever get that answer. With Vengeance MC’s help, you all know we followed up on every lead, and got fuckin nowhere fast with the rest of it.” Heads bob in agreement around the room as Priest goes on, “Last night I took Pipe and Reaper, and had a sit down with Satan’s Sons’ Prez Lucifer, their VP Bead, and SAA Justice.”

  Murmurs go up around the room. Priest bangs his fist down harshly on the table top, attempting to silence the crowd.

  “Shut the fuck up, the lot of you. You’re all aware leadership was turned over to Animal’s son, Lucifer, after he died a few months back. There needed to be an end called to this shit or a truce at the bare minimum. Don’t think I need to tell you, if this situation was left to go on, fuck knows whose woman would be next. I sure as fuck wasn’t takin the risk it’d be mine after my only kid has already borne the brunt of it.”

  Cage mutters, “Fuckin oath,” but no one else speaks.

  “Pretty straight forward reason as to why we couldn’t get a lead on info regarding their beef with us. It came out last night during the meet, that Animal was holdin a nasty fuckin, unfounded grudge over the death of his brother, goin on six years back. Apparently the drunk fuck was an interstate truck driver, and killed himself after an accident the month before where he caused the death of two people.”

  From beside me I hear Tank say, “Jesus fuck.”

  Priest replies to Tank and the rest of us with a voice filled with emotion.

  “That’s about the size of it, Tank. Bob Givens was so far over the legal limit that night when he got behind the wheel of his truck, I doubt the motherfucker could have told you his own name. When he veered over that median strip, he didn’t have enough time to correct his rig before he hit Jones and Sally Walker’s car. Accordin to Lucifer, which was backed up by Bead who was the VP back in Animal’s time too, nearly every member of Satan’s Sons had words with their previous prez, in respect to his misplaced blame over what caused his brother’s death.”

  I can’t fucking believe it all comes down to this. Some useless, drunk motherfucker kills two of our own, Priss and Tilly’s parents to be specific. Then he offs himself, and the whole of Satan’s Sons MC hold us responsible? Jesus Christ. This shit is stuff that happens in high school, not between one percenter MC’s.

  “Got assurances last night that this shit is done. Lucifer has no interest in carryin on the beef dear old, dead daddy had with us. They’re fully aware Vengeance is standin with us and against them, if it comes down to it. They waved the proverbial white fuckin flag. Almost always a decision of a truce comes to the table. We hear it. We vote. It’s carried out. Not this time, brothers.” Gesturing to Pipe and Reaper beside him Priest adds, “I couldn’t give the first fuck if any of you don’t agree with the route I took last night, or wanted it brought to you before action was taken. Fact is, a conditional truce was called between Devil’s Spawn and Satan’s Sons. I expect all of you to uphold it. Conditions are they keep to their own territory, with no crossover deals or approaching our known contacts. They keep their club out of our MC owned businesses, whether they’re wearing their colours or not, and they’re to stay the fuck away from any family or friends connected to the MC, no exceptions. Pretty standard shit, all in all.”

  At Priest’s non-verbal command Reaper stands. This Church meeting is pushing all the accepted boundaries, so far. No one moves until the prez bangs that fucking gavel, and stands to leave himself. Reaper standing is a big fucking deal signalling something more to come that can’t be good.

  “In the spirit of full disclosure, before makin the truce Lucifer informed us he’s recently got hitched.” Reaper moves in closer behind me. I have to say that this shit is making me feel all kinds of uneasy.

  Trig speaks up to ask, “What the fuck does that have to do with us? We don’t give a fuck what gash was stupid enough to marry that asshole, do we?”

  Glaring at Trig, Priest gives him his answer. “In this case, Brother, we do.” Continuing to scowl, but going on Priest drops the bomb. What a motherfucking explosion it is. “Lucifer legally married the now, Savannah Givens, three months ago after she legally changed her name from Verity June Stevens.” Pushing out of my chair so fast it almost tips back; I shoot to my feet like my ass is on fire. I don’t make it much further when I realise what Reaper is standing for.

  Grabbing both shoulders, Reaper halts any progress I may have made, either away from the table or out of the room. This is bullshit. Taking a few deep breaths, I address the table full of men that are my closest family, in an effort to reassure them I’m not the loose cannon they are probably thinking I’m going to be.

  “I’m not going to do anything to upset the truce you’ve called. What I want to know is what the fuck she’s doing with him, and what we’re going to do about it?” Shaking his head slowly, Reaper shoves me back into my seat.

  I know the answer before Priest says it. Nothing. We’ll do nothing about it.

  “Brother, it’s legit. Had Cage check out the marriage licence and county register, a few minutes before we came in for Church. Not a whole hell of a lot we CAN do about it. For all intents and purposes, your son’s mother is now officially Satan’s Sons property.” Sighing loudly I run my fingers roughly through my hair pulling it as I do. This is a complication the club and I don’t need. “Fact is, Arrow, she gave up parental rights. You weren’t married, and she wasn’t wearing your property patch. You had no claim on her and didn’t fuckin want one.”

  He’s dead fucking right. It’s not that I want Verity, or Savannah as she’s called now, in my life because I fucking don’t. The issue lies with the fact that my son is now, categorically, NEVER going to be able to see his mother again. Ronnie is a far better mom and all Kellen needs. One day, my boy is going to want to meet his biological mother, again. That’s just not going to be possible without breaking a tentative truce that could cause war between two heavily armoured MCs. I might be a massive dick for saying this, but I can’t even bring myself to care, or consider the danger Verity could be in being married to Lucifer. He’s not known for being the sweetest candy in the box to the women he’s with. Right now though, my focus is one hundred percent on my son and how this will affect HIM. I don’t have room for much else.

  I have no fucking idea what to do with this information. I’m still processing it when Pipe claps his huge hands together and says, “Alright boys get up, and get the fuck out. All you need to take with you is us and Satan’s Sons are on neutral ground, right now. Don’t do anythin to fuck that up, and you won’t answer to my buddy, Reaper here, who’s got more fuckin anger stored up right now than cum in his balls. Now get the fuck out.” Snickers follow, but I’m pretty sure, right now, I’m deaf to everything accept the roaring of blood in my ears.

  The brothers all stand and make their way out single file clearing the room in record time. They know this shit is personal, and I need some privacy to sort it out
. Turning toward Tank, I notice he’s still in his seat giving me his unwavering support. He remains silent, but just him being here is enough, for now.

  “I’m gonna lay it out for you, Arrow. You might not like it, but it is what it fuckin is,” Priest says. “You and Ronnie have got your boy. He’s happy, settled, fuckin doin great at school, and in that junior league you’ve got him playin in. Your woman is wearin your patch, and you’re set to get married in just under six months. Before long I’ve got no doubt she’ll be cookin your kid, too. Life’s fuckin sweet for you, Ronnie, and Kellen. You’ve got no major shit other than the fuckin dickheads you got workin for you down at Chasers.” I wholeheartedly agree with every word he just said. Does this make the situation Verity has put herself in, and me ignoring it right, though? “Fact is, unless Verity, or Savannah, or whoever the fuck she is now, goes to the cops reporting she was married under duress and then hauls ass out of state, your boy’s not gonna be seein her, any time soon. You follow that logic. She won’t be seein him then, either. You don’t just ditch your Ol man, who’s the president of a one percenter MC, call the cops on him in the process, and hide out in fear for your life; while waltzing in and out of Colorado any time you please without sufferin severe consequences for your actions.”