Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 137324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
“First, I’d like to offer my apologies. It took some sacrifice from everyone to be here. The situation with the venue unraveled quickly. I do appreciate everyone going with the flow.”
I sit forward and study Priest. He’s not usually apologetic.
“We doing anything about the situation west of here?” Pony blurts without waiting to be recognized or even seeing if Priest is done speaking.
While we don’t conform to society’s rules, we’re all supposed to follow our club’s rules. Pony gets a few dirty looks thrown his way from members of several charters.
“Iron Bulls have been an ally of ours,” Foghorn, another brother from out west, says. “We should be offering our support, no?”
That sounds awfully close to telling Priest how to do his job.
“Done a lot of business over the years with them,” Hopper, a retired president from out west, adds.
Priest strokes his hand over his chin a few times. “With the way law enforcement’s got their eyes on every fuckin’ biker who passes the state line, it’d be dangerous to step in the middle of their turf war.”
“You gotta be kiddin’ me. This is what we do,” someone shouts. “We don’t help them out now, we’ll be next.”
Wrath stands without waiting to be recognized by anyone. But he does glance at Priest and gets a go ahead nod before speaking.
“I’ve been in touch with Dante, their SAA.” Wrath’s booming voice silences the chatter in the room. “He specifically asked us not to involve ourselves in their mess. They’re working to contain the situation. He and Romeo think any interference will make things worse.”
Priest stares at Wrath, then throws a cranky glance over his shoulder at his own SAA. Blink stares straight ahead.
Our Mississippi charter’s a lot closer to Iron Bulls MC territory, and yet Wrath just showed everyone New York has a better relationship with the SAA of the Iron Bulls MC than National does.
“Thank you for keeping an eye on that situation, Wrath,” Priest says.
Wrath dips his chin, acknowledging the thanks and takes his seat.
A few more issues are brought up but otherwise people just seem ready to go home.
“Anything else?” Priest asks, picking up his gavel, clearly ready to announce the end of the meeting.
Finally. I rest my hands on the arm of my chair, ready to haul ass the second Priest slams that gavel down.
Acorn, the road captain of our Washington charter, and a massive asshole, stands. Still haven’t forgotten the way he sucker punched Rooster last time we visited Washington. I’d love a chance to kick his disrespectful ass.
Several of us frown in his direction. The meeting’s almost over, why delay our departure?
“Officer challenge,” Acorn announces.
His words settle over the room like a cloud of poisonous mist, shocking us into holding our breath. There’s only one officer he could be referring to. Priest.
Two more Washington brothers stand to support their suicidal road captain.
“We’d like to take a vote for a new national president,” Acorn adds in case his first statement wasn’t enough.
Holy.
Fuck.
Somewhere in our bylaws we have a procedure for this exact situation. But as far as I know, it’s never been used. At least not as long as I’ve been patched.
We used a slightly less formal and infinitely more violent method to remove the old president of our New York charter.
Challenging Priest?
If you take a shot at the king, you better make sure you know how to aim.
Still holding my breath, I slowly slide my gaze Rock’s way. He’s sitting forward, elbows on the table, staring at the three challengers.
I shift my gaze to the rest of my brothers and exhale. Rooster shakes his head and leans over to whisper something to Jigsaw, who nods but keeps his expression stone-cold. Rooster’s got no love lost for Acorn, but I doubt he’s enjoying this shitshow.
Z mouths what the fuck at me. Wrath has his eyes on Rock and his hand at his side where his Glock’s holstered.
Blink steps forward, putting him behind Priest’s right side. He crosses his thick arms over his barrel-sized chest, making it clear he won’t be voting in favor of a change in leadership.
I won’t either. I’m not always a fan of Priest or his methods, but he’s sure as fuck a better fit to lead us than anyone from Washington.
My gaze quickly moves around the room. Shock, confusion, and irritation seem to be the dominating feelings.
Why the fuck would Acorn attempt something this massive without shoring up support from his brothers? At least float the idea to another charter to gauge interest before dropping a steaming shit burger on the table.
Priest sits back and slides his frosty stare around the room. If he’s ruffled by this new development, it doesn’t show. “Anyone else?”
Rock shoots a keep-your-mouth-shut glare to each of his officers. As if any of us would ever take a bite of the poison apple Priest’s offering.