“You’re gonna snap on me aren’t you?” he asked.
“I’m only wondering one thing Freaky,” Porsche said as she leaned forward on the bar, her full breasts pushed up and on display between the unbuttoned starch white top. “Exactly how regular was my ass when you had it bent over the seat of your bike last week?”
The hard slam of the bottle sent foam flying up in the air above his bottle and a few of the New Mexico men laughed before spinning on their stools away from the fire.
“Now that was taken out of context,” Freaky said stepping back with his hands up, sure the woman was about to waste the rest of the barley, hops and water while giving him a Baptism by beer bottle. “Plus, you and Preacher Girl are friends right? You really want to swish that sweet ass of yours a few days before you’re one of her bridesmaids?”
“Rose is her only attendant.”
“Really,” Freaky said reaching for his beer with a bit of trepidation. “But you two are so close.”
“No, we’re not. I’m doing her hair and makeup, that’s it.”
“And days before those perfectly luscious breasts of yours were bouncing in the groom’s face.”
Porsche stepped back and crossed her arms.
Now, he could see her at least falling for some of his bullshit. “Porsche, you know that ass of yours is far from regular, basic and far from boring. You know that bitch is sublime.”
The New Mexico men turned back and were now leaning forward as if they were going to be the Russian judge ready to throw him under the bus with a three point two. Instead, they bailed his ass out.
“I’d say it’s an onion,” the man said. “Something that when I get to the center of, I’m bound to cry like a baby.”
“Don’t help him, Kid. I’m mad at him.”
“Says the woman that broke my heart, running after Red and putting over a thousand miles between us.”
Porsche moved onto her old club member.
Freaky used the distraction to escape and make his way to the room where they had Church. He wasn’t surprised it’d been called since last night’s visitors, but the fact everyone told him to drop it when it came to running guns made him annoyed.
At least, he knew they would discuss something to do with the Blood Sports. He’d taken the punches for his mouth opening before his brain could calculate the fact Red wasn’t interested in even entertaining the idea of running guns. Freaky just didn’t understand why and he hadn’t had time to ask Cass the back story on that one.
Walking into the conference room, everybody was standing against the wall or sitting at the table. Freaky took his place, then a long drink of his beer before settling into the cushioned office chair his rank and tenure with the charter had earned him.
Belly full, thanks to the miracle that was Red’s mother, he waited for the chair at the head of the table to be filled. Hack glared across the table at him and Freaky glanced over his shoulder sure his ire was directed at someone else.
“That for you?” Freaky asked Cass who was busy flipping through pictures on his phone.
“Huh?” Cass flipped his phone around. “Your nephew,” Cass said the picture of his youngest Maddox on all fours front and center. “He’s gonna be crawling soon.”
He glanced up and saw the hard eyes boring into him “Jesus, you’re gonna knock her up again, aren’t you?”
A smirk crossed his lips then Cass shook his head. “New rule in the Coe house, three’s the limit on diaper wearers. Until I get Mayhem trained, because we all know Chaos is, well stubborn—”
“No,” Hack mocked. “Your son, stubborn? That’s as shocking as your daughter being spoiled.”
“We prefer blessed,” Cass corrected.
The discussion of kids was enough to distract Hack and soon, heavy booted feet coming down the hallway had the room going still.
Red spoke as he entered the room and took his seat, “The Blood Sports returned my call. They’re interested in having us run some guns for them. They’re looking at a buyer, but they want our help in protecting them.”
“Thought they said they wanted to buy from us?” Freaky questioned, thankful to not get the death glare for the social faux pas that tended to happen on occasion.
It wasn’t like the Steels used basic parliamentary procedures.
“They did, but can’t get blood from a turnip and they want the items sooner than later,” Red replied. “They’re a smaller club, but funded, and are asking for protection.”
“Hell no!” Baldy spoke up.
Freaky held up his hand. “I think it’s a good way to make some money. I’ve been wanting to talk to everyone about running guns over flipping houses. I think it’s a bigger potential to make money.”
Red frowned, “I don’t agree. We’re making money right now, flipping those houses. If everyone pitches in over the summer, I think we can get the rest of the properties brought up to code and sold.”
“No offense, but you’re not the one busting your back every day for long money with no guarantee, Freaky argued. “I want something easier. Faster way to make money, now. This thing the Blood Sports have might just be the best way we can make some quick money in between. It’s not like we’re in Vegas or Boca. Turnabout Creek isn’t exactly busting at the seams with buyers for our houses.”
“What if we start looking in Berrington too?” Hollywood suggested.
Cass spoke, “I think it’s too risky. We don’t even know these guys. What if they’re like the Feds or something worse.”
Red wrapped his knuckles on the table. “I think this is something we can’t just discuss in a day and decide. It would be a giant shift in our club and who we are.”
Freaky couldn’t believe Red wanted to flip this committee style. At least, he didn’t say no. “What about talking to Steel and Tiny? Hell, Lynch will be here later this week. Let’s use the men who do it on the regular to get some perspective. They can help us make a decision.”
“No. I think it should stay in our club. Men that run guns won’t see a problem with it. I’m just not sure we should get into all that. We just dealt with the Road Killers. To get us tangled up with another club so soon after all that.” Red shook his head, his eyes scanning the room as the handful of former Road Killers shifted uncomfortably along the wall.
Red was right. They almost lost everything, but at least this club approached with an open hand out and not a fist. He wanted to make that point, though they had the Steels to call on in a fix, they needed people that weren’t a day or two away. “Look I’m good holding off until after the wedding. Give everyone time to think it through. Personally, I think it’s a great way to make money for the club. Especially if we don’t have to front end supply to start with. My vote is that we run the guns and sell to the Blood Sports. We can use New Mexico’s pipeline. Then we know for sure where stuff is coming from.”
“I propose we table it.” Red slammed his hand down on the table.
“I second we table it.” Baldy raised his hand.
Freaky had to be satisfied that they tabled it. At least it wasn’t a solid no from everybody. He was getting tired of working so hard. It wasn’t like he was lazy or anything. They probably would still flip houses on the side. But it took too much time to make the money.
Agitated because they hadn’t made a decision and he feared losing the connection, but it would have to wait a week or so until after the wedding. Right now, he needed to finalize the non-regular ass that would be dancing for Hack and the men. He might need to add a few more, looking at the numbers filling up the house.
After the meeting was over, they all milled around and worked their way into the hallway.
“Let’s go and make New Mexico feel welcomed,” Red announced. “We need to get everyone into rooms for the night. The clubhouse will be filled up. So guys, take one for the team and let’s find a way to get the Hoez rooms cleared out.”
No pressure, grab a woman to free up a room for the night. Something told Freaky
the New Mexico’s Kid was gonna help out, doubling up with Porsche tonight.
Freaky had to take Meadow over to the trailer house they had set up for rescues. He wondered if she was a friendly sort of woman.
6
Men filtered down the stairs, Meadow wondered how people could be tight knit with so many at once. The biggest difference she’d seen between the women of Montana versus New Mexico was the Montana women wore cuts claiming to be the owner and operator of a man. Their name inserted on the back. It wasn’t a one way relationship. The men claimed the women and had no problem being claimed right back.
A blond man came down the stairs with a leap and stood behind a black woman with thick dark curls sitting on a couch. Leaning over, he lifted her chin and claimed her in a way that made Meadow’s breath catch. A puppy jumped up on the couch where the woman sat and began licking the side of both of their cheeks until the man flopped over the top of the couch, onto the woman and she let out an exasperated grunt.
The two smiling and falling into each other as if the rest of the world was gone, except when it came to the little puppy.
This love was not alone.
A young woman with stick straight auburn hair was met lips first by the man she learned was the reason they were here. Bride and groom to be had her legs wrapped tightly around his waist as the mismatched in height couple were disappearing out the front door along with dozens of men from both clubs.
Motorcycles roared to life outside and she wondered if they were finally following the Hoez in their scantily-clad costumes hoping for then to fall off completely. She understood the new love passions. The overtaking rush of emotions as you fell into and out of each other’s body and soul. Only her romanticized view of the world could only last so long. At some point, fervor surrounding Clive as he pulled her into his arms stung. Had she mistaken the early tight holds of her wrists as unfettered desire when in fact it was nothing more than control?
She shook her head and tried to be in the moment with the two people sitting directly across from her.
“You’re right, she does drift a bit,” Steel said.
Dell gave her a halfhearted smile.
“I’m sorry, did I miss something?” Meadow replied.
“Nothing really,” Dell assured. “A little small talk at best. I can tell you’re a bit overwhelmed. Hate to tell you we have another large group at some point, later this week.”
“The rest of New Mexico? You said you left some back.”
“No, Nevada has a special link with Montana, they usually show up together.”
“What’s the link?” Meadow asked then realized she was probably overstepping,. “If you don’t mind sharing.”
“No big secret,” Dell said. “Red was rolling through the state of Nevada on his way home when he spotted Roadkill. Luckily, it wasn’t too far from the clubhouse and they helped her recover.”
“Recover?”
“She’d been beaten and left for dead.” Steel’s jaw tightened and his fists clenched.
The visceral reaction to a woman being hurt was in such contrast to the world she grew up in. Even the world she was in now. Her mother had to be ‘set straight.’ Meadow was taught all women did at one point or another. When she was in her teens, she swore she’d never be that woman. One who made sure everything was perfect, then she saw the love her father had for her mother. Undisciplined children running wild in schools and stores. Her thought being if only someone would have put them over their knee a time or two, then they wouldn’t be so uncontrollable.
“Red found her laying half out a ditch, the poor thing,” Steel added. “Not sure how anyone could lay a hand on that sweet girl.”
“Took her some time to remember her real name,” Dell added. “Even longer to dig into her past, what happened and who hurt her.”
“I wondered why a woman like that would be called Roadkill,” Meadow replied. “Makes sad sense now.”
“Not sad,” Dell said covering Meadow’s hands with her own. “Even the ugly and hurtful in the world can bring about a beautiful solution. Harlow wouldn’t be here. This charter and all those babies, these men would be lost and scattered. One near tragedy has dominoed into hundreds of triumphs.”
“They do a lot of good here,” Steel said, his knuckles absently knocking on the table. “Lot of broken women have been rescued and transported to better places by these men.”
“Broken women?” Meadow questioned.
“They help a domestic violence network,” Dell explained.
“That’s why you brought me here? Because of Clive?”
Dell’s face pinched a bit in embarrassment.
“I’m not a victim,” meadow defended. “There were times when I overstepped and needed to be corrected.”
“Even in a dom/sub relationship that’s bullshit,” Dell explained. “Clive wasn’t correcting you when we saw him dragging you by the hair. He was beating you.”
Acid burned along Meadow’s throat and she turned her head away. Not going to cry or discuss the situation. Dell and Steel had a different way to show their love. People didn’t understand. Was it wrong when the blond man pulled the black woman’s chin up to kiss her? No, she even welcomed the gesture. Forceful in its own way.
“One of these days we’re gonna have to do a big event, all the charters,” Steel said changing the subject. “But not sure there’s a place that could hold us all.”
“How many charters do you have?” Meadow asked.
“Close to fifty,” Dell said. “Not quite one per state.”
Meadow’s head swum at the thought of such a large organization when Freaky walked up to them.
“Hi Meadow. Are you ready to go to the house you’ll be staying in while you’re with us?”
“Yeah, I am.” Meadow stood.
Dell stood, hugging Meadow. “We’re here for you, and try to take in what’s being offered on the compound. It’s a stop off point. A place where you can breathe and not worry about being corrected. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Ok, sounds like a plan.” Meadow’s phone buzzed in her purse and Dell’s face pinched again. She hadn’t blocked Clive yet, but she also hadn’t answered him. That had to count for something.
Freaky smiled at Meadow. “You all can meet up here tomorrow morning. Breakfast is served from eight to ten right here. But I’ll explain more once we get you settled.”
“Ok then, we’ll meet up here let’s say nine o’clock?” Meadow asked Dell.
“Sure. That sounds like a good plan. Sleep well.” Dell sat back down next to her husband this time. Leaning on his strong frame as his arm wrapped protectively around her body.
Freaky led the way outside the clubhouse.
Meadow walked up to her car. “I can follow you.”
“Sure. I’ll be on that motorcycle.” He pointed.
She nodded, taking in the large bike and the intricate curved pipes along the sides. Her mind already posing the motorcycle with the wired fence behind it as she zoomed in to the tires. Finding little pebbles wedged in the rubber of the tires.
His leg swung over the seat and she became transfixed by the motion. With a quick brush of his fingers to his hair, she became transfixed on the bits of stubble along his jaw. The way he licked, then pulled in his lips before releasing them back into the harsh world. Now wet and protected for the two minute ride. Hand gripping the handle bars and rolling forward at the same time, righting the bike and kicking up the stand.
When he glanced back to her, she fumbled with her keys and quickly got in her SUV. She followed him toward a trailer house that sat alone next to a large white farm house.
She wondered who else stayed inside this trailer? With so many extra bodies and no hotel to speak of there had to be some people staying here tonight with her. But the only vehicle she saw was a sedan parked by the house.
They parked side by side in front of the trailer. Unlocking all the doors to her SUV, she got out, slinging her purse over her shoulder
and then popped the hatch where her suitcase was. Stopping to open the back door she wanted to get some of her other stuff, if this was going to be for a week. More it would seem if Dell had her way.
When she went to the back where her suitcase was her arms were loaded and when she tried to pull her suitcase, it caught on something. Before she could shift her load to untangle, what she assumed was the bottom wheel, Freaky surprised her by walking up snagging the bag with little to no effort.
“Thank you.” Meadow smiled.
“No problem.” His face looked placid.
She wondered why he was in a bad mood, stark contrast to the rest of the men coming down the stairs. Maybe it was because he’d been tasked to take care of her instead of being freed to watch the women strip. His name was Freaky, that had to of come from something. “I need some of my other stuff if this is where I’ll be staying.”
“Come on, I’ll show you around then we can finish unloading your car.” Freaky led the way into the trailer house. “No reason to leave anything in there, when we have a good week before you go anywhere right?”
Was he questioning her? Trying to find out if she was going to run back to Clive? She wasn’t a prisoner here by any stretch of the imagination, but being asked to abandon what she knew was fucked up, as it may or may not be, didn’t mean— she shook her head again. The wandering mind of an artist, going off on tangents and scenarios not even in play.
Walking inside the newer trailer surprised her. The living room was decorated modern. It had a fireplace. The couch and chairs were set up so the fireplace and TV were the center of attention.
The kitchen seemed large with an island and four stools surrounding it. She would be able to cook for herself here. No reason to bug the MC. Stepping to the fridge, she opened it to find it pretty bare. Bottled water, pop and a few condiments. “Does anybody else stay here?” she asked.
Dreamer: Book 7 of The Steel MC Montana Charter Page 6
