of adrenaline and pride he’d felt the first time he’d walked through those doors and into a meeting. That pride had only grown in the years since.
Preacher and Conroy held court at the head table alongside the club secretary and treasurer. Buster, Preacher’s golden retriever mixed with who-knew-what, sat at his feet under the table. Preacher and Gunner always brought one or two of their dogs with them to church. As Preacher discussed prospects and club finances, Justin looked around the room at the men he felt like he’d known his entire life. Like the exterior of the clubhouse, some of the brotherhood had weathered and aged over the years, while others had gotten inked, had families, and beefed up or slimmed down. They had members from all walks of life, from doctors and lawyers to blue-collar workers, and even a stay-at-home father. Beneath the clothes they were all the same fiercely dedicated, upstanding men. Just like the strong, stable structure around them, the hearts of the brotherhood had remained loyal and unyielding.
Justin’s thoughts found their way back to Chloe, as they always did. Trying to unravel her refusal to go out with him was an ongoing frustration. He was determined to figure out why and change her mind. He’d been biding his time, letting her get all that other nonsense about her suit-wearing Prince Charming out of her head, but maybe it was time to stop waiting and show her who he really was.
“Wake up, dude,” Baz said, jerking Justin from his thoughts. Baz pushed a hand through his longish blond hair and flashed the charming smile that made women lose their minds. He nodded in the direction of Cuffs, who was heading up to the front of the room, and said, “Dogfighting ring update.”
Cuffs was clean cut, broad chested, and athletic, with short brown hair and a granitelike jawline. He was a police officer in or out of uniform, but to Justin he’d always be the first guy Blaine had ever stood up to on his behalf. Cuffs had been Blaine’s best friend since they were kids. He’d fallen from grace after picking a fight with Justin in middle school. But he’d quickly redeemed himself a few months later when he’d stood by Blaine’s and Justin’s sides, helping them stop a group of bullies from picking on a hearing-impaired boy.
“As you know, we’ve been closing in on the dogfighting ring that Baz alerted us to a couple of weeks ago.” Cuffs nodded in Baz’s direction. “My team was ready to take them down this week, but then we received intel from other sources that they’ve got another shipment of dogs coming. We want to close down this operation and their counterparts, so we’re in a holding pattern until next week. We expect to find anywhere from ten to thirty dogs. Gunner’s going to be there to collect and transport the dogs to the rescue, and Baz will be handling any medical care they need.” Cuffs looked over to their table and said, “Gunner, do you need more hands on deck?”
Gunner was peering into his vest. Granger, one of his dogs, stood between his legs with his chin resting on Gunner’s arm, which was belted across the bottom of his vest holding it against his stomach. He pushed one hand into his vest.
“What the hell is he doing?” Tank said under his breath. Tank was the eldest of Justin’s local cousins. He was a mountain of a man, covered with tattoos and a few piercings. He owned Wicked Ink, a tattoo shop, and he was a volunteer firefighter. Tank was also the cousin with the most demons, as he’d been the one to find his late sister, Ashley, when she’d committed suicide several years ago.
“Ow, shit,” Gunner ground out as he stood up. His vest opened, revealing a fluffy white kitten hanging on to his chest by its claws. “Sorry,” Gunner said as he carefully extracted the kitten’s nails. Granger wagged his tail, watching Gunner’s every move. “I rescued her last night and she needs to be bottle fed. I didn’t want to leave her alone.”
“You brought your pussy to a meeting?” Zander chuckled.
Blaine elbowed Zander and said, “Gives a whole new meaning to pussy whipped,” earning a rumble of laughter from around the room.
Gunner nuzzled the kitten against his nose and said, “They don’t mean anything, Snowflake. They’re just assholes.”
“Snowflake?” one of the other guys said.
“He’s got to sweet-talk her. She’s the only pussy he’s gonna get tonight,”