The Davenport Christmas Chronicles - Piper Davenport Page 0,33

the table, which was set to perfection. My baby and our crew had prepared enough food to sink a battleship, and it was laid out beautifully over two large buffet tables.

Crow stood, raising his beer glass with a smile. “Thanks everyone for joining us today. And a big thanks to Maisie and the rest of our women for cookin’ all day.”

“Thanks to all our men for doing all the clean-up,” Maisie interjected, throwing Crow off his game a little.

“Ah... right. Brothers, you’re on clean-up.”

The crowd chuckled, and I squeezed Maisie’s knee under the table. My woman was a fuckin’ genius and I loved her for it. But I wouldn’t be doing any sort of clean-up. I’d leave that to the recruits.

“You’re not off the hook, love,” Maisie whispered.

“I am if you want me to feast on your pussy later,” I countered. “Can’t do that and do dishes.”

She shivered. “You can put the recruits on dishes.”

I chuckled. “Well, I’m sure as hell not putting them on your pussy.”

I received a pinch on my thigh for my impertinence and couldn’t help a grin.

“Anyway,” Crow continued. “Welcome everyone. Since our nearest and dearest are here today, I figured now was a good time to let y’all know I’m retiring. Hatch has been patched in as your new prez, so you got a problem with anything, take it up with him.”

According to Booker, Crow had arrived a little late for him and I to have a private pow-wow, so the announcement had been made in front of Minus and his crew first. I wondered if Crow had planned it all along so I couldn’t object more than I did.

I sat in tense silence for a few seconds, waiting for someone to object, but all that came were congratulatory toasts, back slaps, and hugs.

“Thanks, everyone,” I said. “Now, let’s eat!”

Minus

“Get ready to eat shit, farm boy.” Hatch’s breath turned to thick fog as it hit the crisp winter air. It looked like dragon’s breath in the glow of the halogen lights as he lined up with the rest of “Team Dogs.”

“You think your new President’s patch will give you wings or something?” I asked.

Hatch grinned. “I could have just as easily kicked your ass as a Sergeant.”

“Oh, shit. They’re worse than I thought,” I replied.

“What?” Hatch asked.

“Your delusions of grandeur. You poor bastard, you really think you’re faster than me.”

“We’re about to find out,” Hatch replied, as we squared off, face-to-face.

“Okay, but your quarterback is mine, and don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

The ball was snapped to Booker who caught it and fell deep into the pocket. I was off like a shot, and despite his best attempt, Hatch never laid so much as a hand on me, leaving the Q.B. fully exposed. I flew at Booker who frantically searched for an open man on the other end of the field, but it was too late. I’d found my prey and Booker was on the ground before he knew what hit him. And hit him, I did.

Booker slammed into the semi-frozen ground with a deep thud. I sprang to my feet as he lay flat on his back struggling for air. The players from both clubs’ teams raced toward us along with club members that were watching from the sidelines.

“Hey man, you okay?” I asked, leaning down, extending a hand to the downed man. Before he could answer, I was blindsided from the left, and even though I never saw him, I knew it was Hatch. He hit me hard. Head down, shoulder into my ribcage. Old school.

We flew into the area beyond the “end zone,” which meant landing on earth littered with rocks, sticks, and rusty bike parts.

“What the fuck’s wrong with you?” Hatch bellowed as he pushed off me.

“Me? What... the hell is wrong... with you?” I managed to huff out. I’d now found myself in the “Desperately Seeking Oxygen” club along with Booker.

“That was a cheap fuckin’ shot,” Hatch said.

“Cheap shot, my ass. All I did was sack a man that was left undefended.”

“Yeah, well. it’s gonna be your ass if you ever pull that kind of shit in my house again.”

I rose to my feet. “You wanna talk about cheap shots? Booker had a fuckin’ ball in his hands. What do you call that shit?” I asked, pointing to the spot where he’d tackled me.

“This was supposed to be a friendly game, and you took it too far.”

“Well, friend, I’m gonna have to say it’s you that’s takin’ shit too far,”