lucky man to have such members as you and Horse, and the rest of them. Honored to call you my friend, too.”
“Fuck, Mason.” Bane stepped away, his fingers trailing along her arm until he was out of reach, then he’d pushed his hand out towards Mason. Fists clenched between their hearts, Bane and Mason came together with a collision that promised bruises, followed by heavy pounding claps against shoulders and backs. “Blackie.” Bane pulled back and greeted Blackie the same way, the two men murmuring before they released. “Let’s do this thing. Front porch? Give the spectators an elevated view?” He pushed past Blackie and the other men, headed to the front of the house.
“You won’t want to miss this.” Vanna’s whisper pulled Myrt’s attention around, and she saw the women filing out the back door. “They do very few things not behind closed doors, so don’t get used to it, but this is open for all to see.” Vanna’s clasp on Myrt’s hand drew her from the chair, and she followed Vanna out the door and around the house, coming to a halt in front of the group of women off to the side. Bane stood along the rail of the front porch, facing the growing group of men.
“Brothers.” He propped his palms on the rail, leaning out over the edge, sweeping the small crowd with his gaze. It landed on her, and he smiled and tipped his head at her, then went back to the men in front of him.
That single gesture had nearly every man’s head turning on a swivel to stare at her. Instead of being taken aback, Myrt squared her shoulders and stood tall, hearing Vanna’s muffled, “Good girl,” from beside her. The expression on the men’s faces ran the gamut from coolly interested, to a deep study, and on to smiles and welcoming waves before they returned their focus to Bane and the men next to him.
“You know me. FRMC took me in and taught me the way a club’s supposed to be. Introduced me to the reality of the brotherhood under the patch and in the life. I’m Freed Riders to the core, but beyond that, I’m all about livin’ the way I always have. Free.” He huffed out a laugh. “Blackie knows this next bit, as does Horse, but I need to make sure my history isn’t kept a secret, not with what’s being proposed. So a little bit of backstory comin’ your way.” He shuffled his feet. “My blood isn’t something I’m proud of.” He sounded like whatever was coming next would be painful.
Myrt kept her gaze on him, leaning forwards in her eagerness to help him any way she could.
***
Bane
He’d gone over this with Blackie and Mason last night. Myrt asleep in bed beside him, he’d made two calls, starting with his president. His family history needed to be laid out for Mason, because no way was he hiding anything that had the potential to come back and bite him in the ass.
The faces turned up to look at him from the front yard were open, not yet judging him, and he hoped like hell they wore the same expressions in five minutes.
“I hail from Philly. I come from an old family. Crow isn’t my birth name. It’s family from my momma’s side, and one I took because it’s about as far as possible from the one I grew up with. My father was in the family business.” He laid heavy emphasis on the last two words, hoping he wouldn’t have to spell out the darkness that had surrounded his childhood. “My brother didn’t follow him. That motherfucker branched out, started himself an MC. MDMC is his.”
“Monster Devils?” Tension filled Retro’s voice as he spoke up from his position propped on the corner rail of the porch. “I know someone who had some dealings with them. One of my members used to be patched. Bad juju, brother. They are shit in my eyes, and you know I don’t say things idly.” He spat in the dirt. “Just the mention gives me a bad taste in my mouth.”
The fact Retro still called him brother eased the binding pain around Bane’s chest a little, but there was an unspoken question in there he needed to address. “He is. The only thing he seems to want is pain and death. If he’s still alive, I’d be surprised. I don’t keep up though. Him and my old man are dead to me. Still, I