Of course this guy knows more than the average gym worker. I try not to roll my eyes. He’s probably the one who found a spot for my kid in Teddy’s class. And no doubt it’s not a free course.
I punch the bag harder to hide my humor. If they want to spend money on me and mine, I’m not going to say no. I already know shit isn’t free in life, and I’ve got no shame in accepting help—as long as there are no strings attached. That’s the catch.
“Nah, this one isn’t about structure.”
Bass’s words have me missing the bag as I pause and catch my breath.
“That right?” Meekail raises an eyebrow at Bass before giving me a once-over. Doubt I’m his type, considering Bass mentioned his husband, which means he’s assessing me as something more. An athlete? A fighter? Whatever it is, I can’t tell if he’s left wanting, and that pisses me off.
“She’s more of a runner.” Bass smiles wide at the joke, but I can’t hide my eye roll as I get back to my speed bag.
“I only run when the threat is illuminated. And we only run as far as we have to before we can blend enough for Ollie to have some sort of normal childhood.” I grab the speed bag to stop it from swinging and look straight at Bass for the last part, ignoring the look of both horror and concern on Meekail’s face. “Or we run once we escape our kidnappers.”
’Cause it’s going to happen. No use in pretending that’s not the end goal here. And from the click of his jaw, Bass knows it too.
Like me, he doesn’t need to state the obvious, and we both return to our own respective bags and continue till Ollierushes over, smiling all the way and wanting to know when we can come back.
Chapter 11—Bass
“What have you found out?” Casper says as he, Law, Chains, Flint, and Domino come into the room we use for Church, or for private conversations. Boss man didn’t officially call it, but we all knew I couldn’t talk out in the clubhouse. Especially since my “plus-one” is still with me.
“That someone else needs to be put on babysitting duty,” I grumble.
Flint at least has the decency to nod. He’s been through this. Sort of. For him, he had to do it to get back into the club’s good graces. For me, I just got fucked by being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
“Keep the door open,” Casper says to Domino as he goes to close it after being the last one in the room. “Got the prospect bringing me lunch.”
We all snicker at that, as we’ve all done it in some fashion. Just another way to determine whether the new guy can get shit right and not screw up an order. Especially Casper’s. He’s notorious for going the extra mile and requiring some odd shit that’s damn near impossible to get.
“Kid ain’t doing so bad,” Domino voices, and I’m not the only one who huffs at that, as the new prospect is anything but a kid. Not that age is a factor for this club. We don’t care what age you want to join, as long as you’re at least eighteen and willing to do the time. Not everyone is cut out for the shit we put them through, and that’s what the year of probationproves. Either they want it badly enough to stick through what is mostly bullshit, or they don’t.
A knock on the open door is a good sign. Guy already knows that just because the door is open doesn’t mean he’s allowed in. Church is sacred, and very few prospects get the privilege to come in. I granted this prospect access as a thanks once for the work he did when I first went on my recruiting tour, taking him and the other prospect at the time, Gator, with me. We brought Gator in then, and I’ll admit, the new kid already has my vote into the club. Doesn’t mean I won’t give him shit or take it easy on him till he gets his patch, though.
“Door’s open, dumbass,” I call out, hiding my smile when he doesn’t take the bait that so many before him have. If he stepped in without getting an official invite, he would pull gate duty for two weeks. And that isn’t fun to do, especially when we make the prospects stand outside the guard shack and wait, rain or shine.
Casper waits another beat before nodding, more to himself than anyone else. I can already tell the new guy is growing on our enforcer. “Come in.” His bark is loud but respectful—well, as respectful as we get, which isn’t much if we’re comparing ourselves to those outside these walls.
The prospect nods at us all as he closes the door, sparing us each a second to recognize us as he beelines to Casper, handing him the paper bag and then stepping back as he opens it. Kid is getting a ton of shit right. Got half a mind to think Gator told him how we do it around here. Most people just drop the bag and run, but this one sticks around to get the reaming he knows is coming. Either he’s a cocky fuckerand knows he got it right, or he knows he fucked up and is taking this shit like a man, head-on.
As the prospect awaits his ruling, Law gets to the point. While we might not discuss things out in the open because Milly is here, that doesn’t mean we don’t trust members of the club, even the new ones, enough to wait for complete privacy.
“Let’s move on to the woman of the hour.” A few of the boys chuckle at the boss’s turn of phrase, but I don’t. That girl is taking on a life of her own in my head, and I don’t like it.
“What did you find?” I ask Flint before they start in on me. This group is notorious for it, and yeah, I’m usually the one starting it. What can I say? I’m a hypocritical son of a bitch and hate when the shoe is on the other foot and they come after me.
“Like she told us, her first nameisMilly, but the last name’s not Johnson. Took a while, but I finally found her.” Flint turns his tablet around to show us his screen as he continues talking. “Gentlemen, let me introduce you to Milly Leone—daughter of Vincent Leone and sister of Vinny Leone, the unofficial don of Brooklyn.”
“Jesus,” Domino mutters, to which Flint just grins, and it ain’t a nice one.
“Oh, it gets better. Back chatter says he’s making a bid to become the capoof all of New York, which would give him access to most of the East Coast.”
“How did we miss this?” Chains asks as he leans on the table with a bit of his air knocked out. I’m also floored by the news that we could have missed something this big.
A throat clearing draws all eyes to the prospect. Few patched brothers speak up in a room filled with club officers, and I can’t think of a single prospect ever dumb enough to do so.
“Got something to say?” Casper growls.
To his credit, the guy doesn’t back down and even stands straighter as he answers the enforcer. “Maybe you should be checking everyone fully. Club’s got enemies we can’t see.”
