When Slade and I finished our snacks, he clapped, and announced, “Time to go. Wrap it up, lovebirds, and come give me some lovin’, sugar.”
Aaliyah got to her feet. “Hell, no! I’ll do my duty as an old lady and come with you to see you off."
“That’s my woman!” Slade crushed her in a bear hug that she soaked up, loving every minute of.
When he relaxed his grip, she leaned back and poked his chest. “Don’t you forget it.” She gripped his cut and yanked him down to her. “Both of you have orders to come home to me. Alive. Unhurt. Balls intact.”
“You forgot sexy,” Slade teased.
“And sexy.” She snorted, her falcon shrieking to mine, begging for contact, and I slid in behind her, making a biker sandwich.
“I got that in spades.” I held onto my mate’s hip and brushed my palm along my president’s cut. “You, only when you’re naked.”
Slade gripped me by the back of the neck. “When we get back, your ass is mine, and we’re having a sandwich like this.”
“Yes, President.” That thought and my mate’s arousal blasted away some of my doubt.
Slade shoved at me. “Get the fuck to your bikes before I can this run and pound you both all afternoon and night.”
CHAPTER20
Alaric
I didn’t likethe smell here. Tobacco, beer, whisky, barbeque chips, and fresh leather. Fucking fear that didn’t instill me with confidence in Dash and his four men. This was their first big break, and they didn’t want to mess it up. If things went to shit, then Slade had every right to tear up the contract with Dash’s club and strip them of their Jackals’ cuts.
Aaliyah stood between Slade and me with her hand on our backs, circling and supportive. A true mate and old lady.
I also didn’t like the way Dash kept glancing at my mate as if she didn’t belong here. Women didn’t get involved in club business, but she was every damn bit the biker that we were.
Slade’s finger trailed along the route of the map sprawled along the church table, the table rocking from his weight bearing on it and the shortened leg on the front right. “In case of emergency, our exits are here, here, and here.”
Dash and his men all nodded. They looked good in their cuts, the brand-new leather squeaking with the slightest movement.
Slade studied our new brothers like a general pinpointing a weak soldier who might break in the heart of conflict. “Do we all understand our roles and responsibilities?”
They grunted their replies.
Dash rubbed at the dark stubble sprouting along his jaw. Dark grey eyes and circles suggested he didn’t sleep well the last few nights. He felt the pressure. Perform and succeed. Build this modest chapter from a humble eight men to the twenty-six we had… or used to until we lost Tank and Slim. Jaxx before he turned traitor. If Dash couldn’t take the heat, he had to get out of the kitchen.
We reviewed the route three times previously until it was cemented in their heads. Nerves ate away at their memory, and no one knew that better than me with my battles with mental health. For their sake, and ours, I hoped the nerves didn’t get the better of them. The Lithgow chapter’s new president had a lot riding on his shoulders, and the gravity of it oozed from his stiff stance and locked jaw.
Steele, his VP, stood to Dash’s right, silently confident, brown eyes attentive and absorbing every detail like a sponge. Older than Dash by a good six or more years. Thick, long hair tied back and a beard in need of a trim. Meeting attendance was essential for him to get his head around how the Jackals operated and wanted their shipment runs handled. He didn’t talk much, and I got the impression that Steele knew his way around hell and back from losing someone he loved. A lot like Zethan in that respect.
A call came in on Dash’s phone and he answered it, swiping at his hair to let off steam. “Baked bread is delivered,” my shifter hearing heard one of his men report. Code for the street drag race was about to commence. Distraction number one to divert the cops.
I checked my black Longines watch. Right as scheduled. Precision impressed me. As a pilot, accuracy made the difference between a safe drop, takeoff or landing, and getting back home alive. The same applied here. Everything had to follow the plan to the letter. Timing. Sequence. Protocols.
“Excellent work.” Slade clapped Dash on the back, but it did nothing to break his tension. “Run me through the return journey.” My president tested Dash’s understanding and his level of nerves to recall the plan.
The Lithgow chapter’s new leader reeled off the steps, prompting nods from Slade, a pleased smile on the bond, and for his hand to drift from side to side on Aaliyah’s stomach.
Queasiness made a mess of her bond, and I tightened my grip on her waist. Once this wrapped up, I’d get her a glass of water and send her home to rest. This past week she worked overtime, packing, cleaning, and getting ready for the move on top of taking care of Mia with our family routine broken up. Shitty timing, and we did our best to assist when available.
Another call came in, interrupting Dash, and he answered, “Yeah?”
He picked at the threads of his torn jeans. More nerves. I hope he didn’t lose his cool out on the road. One wrong move could be fatal for a biker.
“Ice cream cone’s broken.” More code for the two staged car accidents on the highway provided additional distractions for the cops to deal with.
