I remember the way and am soon opening the meeting room door.
“Sit.” Pip points to the chair I’d used before. I limp over to it and carefully lower myself down, placing my cane beside me on the floor. Once I’m settled, he resumes, “So, Roadrunner. We’ve been discussing your future.”
A humph from a seat close by me makes me look that way fast. A man with his arms folded tightly across his chest looks annoyed and as though he’s not in line with the rest.
Pip glares at him. The expression is not quite the same as Drummer’s, but piercing all the same. When he thinks the man’s got the message, he subjects me to the same look. I shift a little uncomfortably.
“How strong are your ties to Tucson?”
I wasn’t expecting that. “The chapter or the location?”
“Club.”
Summoning up my thoughts, I let him in on them. “Tucson’s always been pretty good to me. Gave me a chance, patched me in. I’m a Devil.” I shrug. “Wouldn’t have become one if I wasn’t prepared to give everything—up to and including sacrificing my life for any one of my brothers.” Two things strike me as I say those words; the first being, maybe this is the point where I’m going to have to prove I mean what I say. And while it’s true of my brothers I left behind me, I’m not sure I could say the same about those here. They certainly don’t seem overly friendly.
Why is the woman still sitting there? She seems to be hanging on my every word.
Pip gives me a measured glance. “Would you be willing to transfer?”
That pulls me up. “What?” I frown. “Here?” At his nod, I swallow down my initial, Don’t be stupid and try to think how I should play this out. I settle on the truth. “With all due respect, Pip, prospecting works two ways. The club gets to see the measure of the man, and the man gets to know the club.” I lean forward, resting my arms on the table. “I’ve had three brothers transfer out to different clubs. Dart went to San Diego, Paladin and Beef went to the Colorado club. They were given a chance to see how the members melded together and to decide whether they’d be a good fit. All three found things they liked and stayed on when they had the chance. Now you’re asking me if I’d consider a transfer, but I know fuck all about this club. I’ve met Snatcher and Thor before, but only briefly, and Piston in passing.” I pause. “As for the rest of you,” I let my eyes roam the table, resting on each one momentarily, though skipping over the woman of course, “I’ve not heard anything from you. I don’t know what makes you tick. I got disrespected on my arrival starting with the prospect, Gears. Have I seen anything I like here? Have I learned shit about you to be able to say I’d lay down my life for the club? Like fuck. Right now, I’m feeling the opposite.”
Pip looks at me considering, and then he barks a short laugh. “A simple yes or no might have sufficed, Road. But you’re right. We are a different club, different in ways you probably can’t imagine as yet. How about we shelve the idea of a transfer and put it on the back burner for now? What we,” he waves his hand as though encompassing all sitting around the table, “have decided, is to give you a chance to learn about what we are. Stay here for a few days or weeks, however long it takes, then if you’re a fit for us and us for you, I’ll raise the question again.”
I think for a moment. On the face of it, it sounds fair. While I still have suspicions about what happens if I have no inclination to patch over, at least I’ll be breathing for now. “I’ll have to check with Drummer. He’s expecting me back.” I’ll take the chance to put him on guard, let him know how uneasy I’m feeling. Then, if I disappear, he’ll know where to look.
“Ah,” says Pip. “The VP will sort Drummer out for you. I’m sure if we explain we need an extra pair of hands then he’ll have no objection to you staying on for a while.”
I suppose they could square it with Drummer, but I’ll be having a few words with him myself and tell him I’ve been given the opportunity to discover exactly what’s going on in the Utah chapter. Because of my injury, I’ve already been off for weeks, and Marvel’s been running the strip club, though I hadn’t heard him making many complaints. Well, in the mood I was in before I left Tucson, he’d probably not voice them in my presence, else he’d have gotten my fist in his face. I won’t deny I was a bear with a sore paw before I left.
“I’m teaming you up with Swift who will show you the ropes.”
It could be useful having someone I could gently pry information out of. As long as Swift isn’t the man who’s looking like he’d rather kill me than work with me. But, at least before my accident, I was an affable sort, happy to get along with anyone. I’ll just have to rely on not pissing whoever the man is off. Idly, I wonder what I’ll be doing, they haven’t asked about my work experience or skills. But then, if that woman could get into my medical records, finding out I run the strip club having been promoted from bouncer would probably be a cinch.
I glance around the table, but none of the men lift their hands, or indicate in any way that they’re this Swift. I wait for the man to introduce himself, or for Pip to point him out.
But neither thing happens. Instead, Pip stands. “Now, I think Swift and Stormy have a score to settle? I suggest we all adjourn to the gym.”
Everyone, including the woman, gets up and stands, and they filter out through the doorway. I busy myself getting hold of the cane and getting myself upright once again. By the time I do, I’ve missed satisfying my idle curiosity to see just what is written on the back of the woman’s cut.
Like any man, I’m more than happy to watch a fight. We hold them regularly in Tucson in our own gym. There, I’d know who to place my money on, knowing exactly how each man handles themselves, sometimes using my knowledge of who might not be up to fighting strength having laid one on the night before, or who had put extra training in and might have an edge. Here, where I don’t know anyone, seeing how they fight could give me some indications of what I’d be up against if eventually they decide my face doesn’t fit. Do they fight dirty or play by the rules? How a man faces up to another may give me some clues of what I’m up against. Of course, I’m particularly interested as one of the fighters is the man I’m going to be partnered with.
Thor is hovering, waiting for me to follow the rest, ensuring I go with them, I expect. I make no outward sign I’ve realised it’s not him being polite, instead he’s checking I don’t make a break for it and run, or rather limp, to my bike.
Still, this behaviour, more typical of members of an MC, settles me slightly. Especially when I see money changing hands. I open my ears and gather more money’s being placed on Swift being the winner rather than the other man, Stormy. At least I’m being paired with someone who can presumably look after themselves. I’ll be a liability for a bit where anything physical is concerned. Hey, can we pause the fight for a moment while I put my knee back in place? My lips curve slightly as I imagine how that would go down.
The gym is at the rear of the building, reached via a maze of corridors. As soon as I enter, my eyes open wide, noticing some serious equipment here, and lots of it. Peg would be green with envy at some of this shit. And there, in pride of place in the middle, is a full-sized professional looking boxing ring. Three people approach and swing themselves up and through the ropes.
Well, I’ll be fucked. The woman, like the others now minus her cut, is in the ring as well. What is she? Some kind of cheerleader or referee? She’s also pulled off the long-sleeved top she was wearing and now is just dressed in a sports bra and jeans. I notice her stomach’s flat and there’s no fat on her at all. She’s fit, while I prefer my women to be curvy. But no matter, any port in the storm. If she’s a sweet butt and I’m staying on for a while, I wouldn’t turn her down.
The man who’d sat with arms crossed looking sulky is also there. He’s about my age, and around my height of six foot two. He’s ripped off his tee showing a six-pack, or is that eight? The smirk on his face suggests the exposure of his chest was meant to intimidate, confirmed when he
puffs it out. He looks a worthy opponent. Is he Swift? I fucking hope not. I’ve already picked up he doesn’t care for me. If he turned nasty, in my weakened state, I’d be no match for him.
The girl, I’ve decided, must be a sweet butt, though to be fair, she’s not flaunting herself. She’s just deep in conversation with the other man there. Unlike the others, he’s not doing much to get ready, not even taking off his shirt. If that’s Swift, I like his style. He’s acting as if he’s confident he can take down the other man with one hand tied behind his back. A bit older than my thirty years, perhaps, shoulder-length brown hair he’s not bothering to tie back. A mistake, I would think, as his opponent could get a hold of it. If they fight dirty that is. Yeah, I might have learned a few tricks that I keep up my sleeve.
The more I watch the trio in the ring, the more I hope I’ve identified the right man as Swift. I wouldn’t want to be paired with the one showing off his chest. If I were, I’d need to sleep with one eye open. Or better still, stay wide awake. There’s a vibe of fury that’s emanating from him. I’d felt it back in the meeting room, as if just by breathing I’ve upset him. Pip wouldn’t be crazy enough to partner me with him, would he?
The man who I’m hoping is Swift beckons the angry man close. All three bow their heads as he speaks to them both. Then, the girl and chesty go to opposite corners, while the man I want to be Swift steps back to the ropes.
I catch my breath and hold it. The long-haired man isn’t fighting at all. He’s the fucking referee. It’s become clear it’s the woman who’s going to be taking Swift on.
There’s no other explanation. The angry man must be this fucking Swift I’m supposed to be partnered with. No wonder the good money was going on him. I suck in air. Jeez. He’s fighting a girl? Sure, I’ve seen girls fight before. We’ve even had the strippers at Angels mud wrestle before to provide entertainment for the customers. But a real fight against a man? No way. And not one in the mood Swift’s in.
As Swift waves her forward with a taunt, I look around to see who’s going to step in and stop this. He’s going to fucking kill her. But everyone’s just staring on, their faces eager in anticipation and some are even cheering the pair on.
“This has been a long time coming.” Turning fast, I see Pip standing by my shoulder. “Stormy’s been well out of line for a while.”
But that doesn’t mean she should get her face rearranged. I open my mouth to protest, but Pip shakes his head, jerking his chin toward the ring.
“Watch. You don’t want to miss this.”
I turn back. Swift has launched himself at the woman. She’s fast, I’ll give her that, dancing under his arm and around him. He’s not slow himself. Fuck, that’s going to hurt, he’s not pulling his punches…
Instead of the fist meeting her stomach, there’s a blur of movement, almost too fast for my eyes to follow. He goes down with a crash and is on his front, one arm bent painfully behind him, and the woman’s pulling his head back with a hard grip around his face.
Swift tries to buck her off, but to no avail. He tries again, but his head’s being forced back. Instead of getting free, after a few more abortive attempts… he taps out.
Jeez. If that’s my new partner, he just got bested by a woman half his size. Guess I’d be able to take him on after all. My lips start to curve.
Suddenly cries and shouts of, Swift! Swift! Swift! go up around me as she jumps to her feet, waving her hands in the air.
Swift?
“What do you think of your new teammate?” Pip asks, laughter in his voice.
I try to compute what he just said. Then I say the first thing that comes to me. “She’s a fuckin’ bitch.”
“I’d advise you not to call her that.” He chuckles by my side. “Not with your weak leg. You’ll risk literally leaving yourself without a leg to stand on.”
Ignoring what’s going on around me, I turn and face him down, feeling personally insulted and hurt, and also conscious of the slur toward Drummer. “Do me the fuckin’ courtesy of putting me with one of your members, not with a…” What is she? I’ve got nothing against women, but this is probably a way of keeping me out of the real business of the club. Satan’s Devils do not have women members and never have. “If you’re teaming me up with anyone, it’s got to be someone who’s earned a Satan’s Devils’ patch.”
“I have.” Where my tone of voice does little to hide the annoyance and slight that I feel, Pip’s voice is calm.
“So, you’re telling me you’re pairing me with a sweet butt as a fuckin’ joke?” A twisted one at that.
“Not in the least,” he clarifies, then his eyes pierce me like a laser beam. “She is a member. She’s patched in. So you treat her with the respect you’d give any brother.”
5
Swift…
I knew I had to get the better of Stormy fast. He’s an arrogant asshole who needed to be taken down a peg and having faced him before, I know he’s skilled and quick enough that if his hits landed, they’d be hard enough to leave a lasting message. Having previously learned my lesson, I was determined not to draw this out.
Sometimes I’ll play the game, put on a show for entertainment’s sake, drawing the fight out until I let a brother think he’s going to get in a lucky shot and get me on the floor. It’s then I’ll strike and take them out. Tonight, however, I knew the humiliation would be greater if I took Stormy down before even one of his punches connected.
I’d had no expectation other than Stormy tapping out, so while I’m not surprised at how it ended, I’m still buzzing as I leave the ring. I hadn’t broken a sweat so I barely needed the towel that had been thrown at me, but out of habit I wipe my face then settle it around my neck. Grinning, I listen to the group around Stormy.
“Hey, you could have put up a fuckin’ fight.”
Uh-uh. Someone was crazy enough to bet against me.
“Stormy, what the fuck? You didn’t fuckin’ last a minute. I wanted a better show than that.”
Prez is talking to Road about something serious by the look of it. He catches my eye and crooks his finger summoning me across to join them. Some of my exhilaration fades as I walk over, wondering how Road is going to take the introduction to his new partner. I’m already prepared for the objections. Despite my so recent display of how well I can look after myself, it doesn’t hide what appears to be a drawback for so many men. I’ve lived with the fact that my genitals, or lack of the correct ones, have been the bane of my life. Not that I wanted a dick, no way, no how. I’ve just learned having the lack of one makes men judge me.
Well, if he doesn’t want to be teamed up with me, I’m equally unenthusiastic about being paired with him. As I’ve just proved, there’s no one here who can match my training. Hence, I trust none of them to have my six. I’d spent months learning to rely on no one but myself, and that’s the way I much prefer it.
Pip’s been tolerant up to now, but it seems I’ll no longer be able to get away with being a loner. For the foreseeable future at least, I’m to be paired not only with someone who’s far from being my equal, but a man who can barely stand up.
I reach them in time to hear what, for Road, is clearly the punchline.
“Not in the least,” Pip says, his eyes no longer on me but on the newcomer. “She is a member. She’s patched in. So you treat her with the respect you’d give any brother.”
I read the signs that betray Road’s reaction to that statement. His face goes red, his hands fist at his sides, and the glare thrown at me would make a lesser being want to drop through a hole in the floor. I stand my ground, raising an eyebrow in challenge as I wonder what he’s going to say next.
“She can’t be.” His eyes go from me to Prez. “Satan’s Devils don’t allow women members.”
“Actually,” Prez says deceptively calmly, “they don’t disallow it.”
Prez is right. Before he invited me to prospect for the club, he’d gone over the regulations with a fine-tooth comb. As, it appears, Ro
ad is about to find out.
“You’re wrong,” Road states firmly as though right is on his side. “Satan’s Devils do not allow women to join.”
Prez grins. “Sure, the regulations only refer to men, and every pronoun is ‘he’, but there’s no regulation actually prohibiting it.”
“You’re twisting it,” Road scoffs. “The intention is clear.”
“Maybe I am,” Prez agrees, his voice still level and even. “But that happens often enough in many a legal document. What’s not emphatically stated allows for loopholes. Men have gotten away with murder on such technicalities before.” His face, and his voice, hardens. “Accept it, Road. Swift is a full member of the Utah chapter, and for the time being at least, your partner.”
“Drummer’s not going to like it.”
This time, Prez agrees. “He’s not, is he, Road? There are a few things about the way we run this chapter that are different. I’m giving you a chance to see if you think you can accept what we are and what we do. But that’s without you running back to Drummer, at least not until you’ve given us some time. I’m asking you to keep certain things to yourself.”
“Can’t do that,” Road objects. “My loyalty is to my prez.”
“There are other ways to make sure certain details don’t meet the ears of the mother chapter.” Thor, one hundred percent in his enforcer role, has come up behind Road.
Road stiffens, showing he’s not stupid. He’s clearly aware of the threat.
I sigh.
“Why don’t you give us a chance, Road?” I try to defuse the situation. What we do here is too important to be wrecked by one man, and while it wouldn’t be my first choice, I do have some sympathy with Thor’s view that he wants to make his silence permanent.
It’s as though Road’s seeing me for the first time when he now turns his full attention on me. Really seeing me, as a person and not as a piece of meat, and not something for his entertainment. I’m all too well aware how women are regarded in other clubs—they are either sweet butts or old ladies, with nothing in between. I can’t see there’s much difference in either role myself. They’re kept women performing on their backs to keep their positions, it’s only the number of men that they service which makes the distinction.
Road Tripped: Satan's Devils MC Utah #1 Page 5
