Banger and Hawk by the door. Stuffing the last bite of food into his mouth, he tossed the paper plate into the trash can.
“Church!” Banger shouted as he and Hawk walked through the main room.
Brothers burst into motion, their boots shuffling across the floor and into the conference room. Smokey plopped down into a chair, and tipped it back on two legs until it hit the wall behind him, focusing his attention on Banger and Hawk, who stood at the head of the table. Once the members settled down, Banger brought the gavel down on the wooden block, calling the meeting to order.
“I called church today because we got some shit going on with those fuckin’ Rising Order pussies. We’ve found out the fuckers are wearing a rocker, claiming Colorado as their territory.”
“Fuck them!” Jax bellowed, as Shadow asserted, “Let’s beat their asses!”
The room quickly erupted into chaos with shouts of agreement, fists banging against the table, chairs bumping against the concrete walls as brothers jumped to their feet, chanting, “Death to the Rising Order!”
With Banger pounding the gavel several times to no avail, Hawk placed his fingers between his lips and let loose an ear-piercing whistle. Suddenly, the room went quiet, and several brothers dropped back down into their chairs.
“We’re all fuckin’ pissed, but we have to keep focused,” Hawk said. “Skeet’s the sonofabitch who started all this shit. The Rising Order wasn’t a problem until that traitor left the Insurgents to join up with them. This shit is his doing—no doubt about it.”
Wheelie rested his arms on the table. “We should’ve iced him. Being that he was tight with Tigger, he was resentful of the way the club handled him.”
“No. We should’ve gotten rid of him when he ran off with Metal’s woman. Instead, we gave him a beatdown, but I was all for snuffing out the bastard,” Animal said.
Rock nodded. “Me too.”
Banger held up his hand as several more brothers voiced their agreement. “I admit, I fucked that one up. I should’ve listened and eliminated the fucker.”
“We can do it now, and it’d be justified,” Chas said. “It’s obvious Skeet put the Rising Order up to this. They’ve never tried to pull this shit before.”
“Those assholes wear the regalia and practice the traditions of an outlaw MC, but they’re doing it rebelliously. By not asking us for permission, they disrespected us,” Hawk said.
Klutch pounded his fist on the table. “They’re fuckin’ impostors playing dress up. Skeet knows that pretending to be an outlaw club gets the offenders killed.”
For one-percenter motorcycle clubs, respect was everything. Any new MC that wanted to wear a rocker had to get the approval of the established club who claimed the territory. It was biker etiquette, a show of respect, and ignoring the rules was not only stupid, it was, in many cases, deadly.
“Their club’s blatant disregard of our traditions of how to establish themselves must pay for the consequences of their actions,” Animal said.
Smokey leaned forward, the front legs of his chair hitting the floor. “The fucker’s getting personal too.”
“How so?” Banger asked.
“He threatened some chick into lying about Ryan doing shit to her. I’m ready to ride up north right now and put a bullet in his fuckin’ head.”
Several members jumped to their feet, cussing and raising their fists in the air, and wanting to join him.
Hawk pushed away from the wall and ordered, “Sit the fuck down. We got shit to decide.”
“Skeet’s brother still lives in town,” Smokey said.
Bones smiled. “He and Skeet are real tight too.”
Banger nodded. “That’s good. We can use him to bring Skeet in.”
“What about the other fuckers in that fake MC?” Rags asked.
“We’re gonna go to Cottonwood and do some damage,” Banger replied.
“The officers will iron out the details. We’ll let you know the plan at church next week,” Hawk concluded.
“That about covers it.” Banger brought the gavel down, ending the meeting.
“You gonna stick around?” Throttle asked Smokey.
“Nah. I gotta help out at a site. Are you going to be around tonight for a game of pool?”
“Wish I could, but I’m taking Kimber out to dinner and a movie.”
Smokey laughed. “A chick flick?”
“Nope. I’m lucky my old lady hates those movies. It’s the new action film at the Esquire. I don’t know anything about it—she picked it.”
“I wish Addie didn’t like those sappy ass movies,” Chas grumbled.
Throttle frowned. “I don’t know how you do it, dude.”
“It makes my old lady happy.”
Nudging Smokey with his elbow, Throttle smirked. “See what you’re getting yourself into?”