Road Tripped (Satan's Devils MC Utah #1) - Manda Mellett Page 0,7
of place. Halfway down the table seated facing me is a woman.
Ah. Perhaps it’s a business meeting. Not church at all. No wonder I shouldn’t be here. Club business is one thing, but commercial activity is a different beast entirely.
I turn back to the unknown man at the head of the table, preparing to voice my apology and then back out of the door, when the voice of the stranger I’m now facing barks once more. “Who are you?”
“I’m Roadrunner, Road,” I explain. “From the mother chapter in Tucson.”
He raises his eyebrows at Snatcher, who gives a sharp up and down nod, clearly confirming my words.
“I’m sorry I interrupted. I’ll wait outside.” I take a step backward.
“Stay where you are,” the stranger’s voice snaps loudly.
I don’t so much as move another inch in any direction. It’s as though he’s commanded my feet, making me almost stand at attention. “Why are you here? Did Drummer send you?” His questions are barked out one after the other without drawing breath.
I may be feeling like a naughty schoolboy called in front of the head teacher, but I’m not going to let this stranger have it all his own way. “Prez,” I say, letting my gaze land on Snatcher. “Who is this?” I hope Snatcher will understand that I don’t necessarily want to talk about club business. Not when there’s a stranger in the room, and a bitch at the table. Who are the pair? They’re both wearing cuts, but presumably not from this MC. Maybe the bitch is his property?
The tabletop is rapped loudly with a gavel. My eyes go back to the man seated at the head. “You’ll address me, not the VP.”
VP? My brow creases. Maybe that knock I’d taken on the head was too hard and my memory is muddled. But Thor’s VP, isn’t he? And Snatcher is the prez. Unless there’s been changes which Drummer hadn’t known about. Maybe this was the cause of the wrongness he’d felt in his gut. There’s been a change in roles or a takeover of the chapter and he’s not been informed as the Satan’s Devils rules would have it. The switch must have come recently, as Drummer, when I left him, definitely remained under the impression that Snatcher was still at the top of the table.
Now I look closer. The man sitting in Snatcher’s old chair has a dirty patch on his cut. Leaning in a bit and squinting so I can read it from my position halfway down the table, I can now see it does say President. What’s striking is it doesn’t look new.
I may have been caught unawares, presented with a situation I know nothing about, but a president deserves respect, if that’s what he indeed is. “Apologies, Prez.” I raise my chin toward him. “Drummer didn’t tell me there had been a change.”
“No change,” the man who hasn’t yet given himself a name, tells me. “I’ve sat in this seat for years.”
Now I can walk short distances, sit on my bike for miles, but standing in one spot? That’s a challenge after the distance I’ve ridden in the last few days. Even balancing with the aid of the cane is making my leg ache. I shift, trying to relieve the soreness in my muscles, only to realise my damn knee has locked. As I move my leg, pain shoots through me making me grab the back of the nearest chair.
The woman almost directly opposite stares and then glances down at a tablet in front of her and recites, “You injured your leg among other things when you crashed halfway around the track on May 8th.” As my eyes go wide, she then recites the details of the medical report my doctor had put into laymen’s terms for me, which she’s obviously got access to and is reading the original notes.
While my mouth drops open, the prez takes pity on me, though his tone is anything but sympathetic, more as though he’s identified a weakness instead. “Do you need to sit?”
No. I don’t want anyone to make accommodations for me, but the pain in my leg means I have to swallow my pride. “Yes,” I respond through gritted teeth.
“Bolt?”
The man who answers to that handle gets up from his chair and pulls one of three spares from against the wall, placing it next to his own.
With a sort of hop-and-drag affair, I get myself into position and sit down with a sigh of relief I can’t quite suppress.