B - stard (Royal Bastards MC) - Sapphire Knight Page 0,62
that I don’t want to live my life without her in it. Like they say on those jewelry commercials…a diamond is forever, and she’s mine.
Chapter 15
“It’s impossible,” said pride. “It’s risky,”
said experience. “It’s pointless,” said reason.
“Give it a try,” whispered the heart.
- Unknown
“It’s good to have you guys back,” Whiskey rumbles at the table toward Angel and me, and the brothers jump in to agree. He sits back in his chair, rubbing his belly. There’s not much there, but the distinguished fucker acts like he’s a fat bastard or something.
This is the first full church session that Wrench is sitting in on, and I know he’s going to bring up the idea of Alice’s bodyguard prospecting. I’m not sure what I think of it, to be honest. Richardson’s got a hefty set of nuts for standing up for my woman, especially when it comes to me. If he’s caught some feelings for her, however, I’m not sure I can handle having him in my club and not end up slitting his throat at the first wrong move he makes.
“Thanks.” I accept Whiskey’s greeting, along with the other brothers. “Let’s also welcome in Wrench. He’s a fully-patched member at our table now. Guess at some point, we need to set up a celebration for the newest Royal Bastard, aye?” The brothers around him pat him on the back and everyone else reaches in to pound his fist. “You earned it, Wrench. You’ve sacrificed for the club, and we’ve come to trust you, to think of you as our brother.”
“’Preciate that, Prez.” Wrench smirks, pulling his solid black ball cap a bit lower, not used to having everyone’s attention on him at once. He’s got the typical mechanic look. You know the type, tan from working outside on vehicles and always has a bit of grease on him somewhere, especially on his faded jeans. He’s got eyes the color of Jack Daniels with short, inky hair and a light smattering of scruff on his face to match. I’d like to think he fits in pretty well around here and will more so now that he’s got his Royal Bastards and one percenter patches adorning his leather vest.
“I know you want to bring something to the table.”
He nods, moving to rest his hands on the solid wood in front of him. He cracks his knuckles, watching me. They’re bloodied up; I’d suspect from him banging them on parts while fixing shit. Lord knows it happens to the best of us.
It’s been many years since I got patched in, yet I can still remember the feeling of sitting at the table for the first time. It’s a respected and coveted place in the club, and that shit can be intimidating as fuck. Church is sacred, so no one would’ve told a prospect jack about what goes on and what to expect. I’m sure Wrench had his own theories, but who knows if it was anything like this.
Plague lights up a blunt, inhaling deeply before passing it over to our new brother. He must be able to read the nervousness in the other man like I can. Coming from Plague, that weed will no doubt be laced and fuck the brothers up fairly quickly. Wrench gratefully accepts the Mary Jane, taking a few quick puffs before passing it along to the next brother. I’m sure he wants to hold on to it and smoke it down, but in our club, we share. It’s puff, puff, pass, or else you get a fist to the gut for being a stingy motherfucker.
“We discuss any of that sort at the end of church,” I inform him, not wanting to leave him hanging out to dry on the way things work around here.
“Sounds good,” he says. His eyes are already beginning to glaze over with the drug’s effects. We’ll get some business handled, and our new brother will end up stoned out of his mind.
“First up, our trip was successful. Me and Angel didn’t hit any snags. We were beginning to believe that shit went a little too easily. Something always seems to fuck up, no matter how small it may be.”
Plague speaks up. “I haven’t heard anything. I’ve kept my eyes and ears to the ground for any suspicious reports since you left to around the time you two were up there. So far, there’s been a police and fire report filed. The paperwork was on a house fire in an uppity neighborhood, and ol’ Senator Compton’s opposition