“I’ll take it,” Throttle said.
“What? Are you sure you have the mon—I mean, we’ll have to run the amount on your card to make sure it goes through.”
He sneered. Looking behind him, he said, “Get your asses over here. I want you to see the ring I picked out.”
“’Bout fuckin’ time,” Rags grumbled as he and Wheelie shuffled over.
“It’s kickass, yeah?”
“It’s great. Are we ready to go?” Rags said.
“Kimber’s gonna love it. It’s not the usual clear diamond ring. And I’m with Rags… are we ready to blow this joint? I can’t believe how damn long it took you to pick out a ring.”
“Quit bitchin’ and tell me how much money you got on you. This ring costs four grand. I only have three on me. You got a thousand between the two of you? I’ll pay you back when we get to my place.”
They nodded and handed over the money, the salesclerk watching with bulging eyes as Throttle laid the bills down on the counter.
A half hour later, they were downing beers in front of a crackling fire, their feet up on the coffee table. Outside, the snow fell like confetti from the grayish-white sky, blanketing everything in shimmering white.
As Throttle brought the beer bottle to his lips, he glanced over at Wheelie. “What’s up with you and Tigger?”
Wheelie’s eyes narrowed and he stiffened. “Nothing.”
“Bullshit,” said Rags.
Throttle reached over and put his beer on the side table. “Now don’t go taking a swing at me like you did at the club last week, but you gotta leave this shit alone, dude. Sofia’s with Tigger. She wants to be with him.”
“You’re not telling me something I don’t know. Fuckin’ leave it alone.” Wheelie grabbed his bottle and guzzled it down.
“Throttle’s just bringing it up because Jax said you told him you’d keep an eye on Sofia while Tigger’s on the poker run.”
“So? Tigger asked me to.”
“Yeah, but he asked Bear, Chas, and Jax too.”
“They have families. I don’t. Fuckin’ leave it alone. This is the last time I’ll warn you.”
Throttle pressed his lips together and a strained silence fell over the room.
Wheelie pushed up from the chair. “I gotta get going.”
“Dude, I’m just telling you to be smart here. Tigger’s a damn jerk, but he’s a brother and Sofia’s his old lady. You gotta respect that,” Throttle said.
“Tell her to file a complaint with Banger. You know you can’t mess around with a brother’s woman.” Rags stood up.
Throttle saw the vein in Wheelie’s temple pulsing, his jaw rigid, and decided to change the subject. “You wanna come over Thursday night for poker? I’m hosting it this month. Kimber makes kickass guacamole and the best kickass burritos in town.”
Wheelie’s jaw visibly softened and he ran his hand through his hair. “Sure. Count me in.”
“We all go way back,” Rags said as he shrugged on his leather jacket. “Let’s not let shit get between us.”
Throttle nodded, but he knew Rags was just trying to smooth things over. Wheelie was on a fucking slippery slope with Sofia, and Throttle knew how hard it was to resist the pull of a woman who touched you deeply. No matter how hard a guy resisted it or tried to talk himself out of it, it was inevitable that he’d end up with his cock buried deep inside her. He knew all about that firsthand. Of all the brothers, he never thought he’d end up with an old lady and buying an engagement ring. He’d resisted it like hell, but he’d been lost the minute Kimber’s sexy rose and patchouli scent wrapped around him.
And that’s what scared him about Wheelie. When he talked about Sofia, he had that look in his eyes, and there was nothing Banger, Hawk, or the entire membership could do to stop him from sliding down the slope. Throttle didn’t want Wheelie thrown out of the club; the only hope was that the loyalty and love he had for the Insurgents had a bigger pull than Sofia.
Rags gripped Throttle’s shoulder. “I’ll make sure the crews are up and ready to plow once the storm dies down.”
The wind howled, piling up snow in drifts, filling the air with icy dust.
Wheelie gave him a chin lift. “See you Thursday.”
Heaviness weighed Throttle down as he watched his brothers walk to the truck and then vanish, swallowed by white.
He closed the door, went back to the family room, and stared at the flames as they curled around the burning logs.
Chapter Six
Banger
Rubbing his eyes with his callused fingers, Banger tipped the leather chair back and stretched out his legs. He’d been sitting at the desk most of the day, and the glare from the computer screen was playing havoc on his baby blues. He glanced out the window and stared at the falling snow. Someone’s messin’ with us and I don’t know who the fuck it is. His chest tightened and the dull throb at the base of his skull indicated a doozy of a headache was on its way. Gripping the back of his neck, he rubbed it while he watched the snowflakes twirl and turn as they fell silently down.
As president of the Insurgents MC, Banger was the man the brothers depended on to make the right decisions for the club. He wasn’t just the president of the MC in Pinewood Springs, but he was the national president as well, and that honor came with a huge burden. Decisions made in the national club carried over to all the chapters throughout Colorado, Wyoming, Nebraska, Utah, and Kansas. If he fucked up, it’d ripple to all three hundred and fifty brothers.
Glancing down at the papers on his desk again, he picked up a bottle of aspirin, shook out three tablets, and guzzled them down with a gulp of water. He thumbed through the various correspondences he’d received from Insurgent charters as well as affiliate clubs around the country. Something wasn’t right. It seemed like the Deadly Demons were trying to move into Colorado and set up shop selling fucking smack, crack, and acid, but some of the reports coming in led Banger to question whether Reaper was behind the push, or some other club or organization was trying to mimic the Deadly Demons and start a war between the Insurgents and them.
Fuck! He pushed the papers away and closed his eyes, only opening them when a soft knock came at the door.
“Come in.” A smile spread across his face when Kylie walked in. He hadn’t seen her in over a month, and he missed his daughter terribly. “You’re a nice sight for sore eyes. When did you get back to Pinewood?”
“Last night. The drive was a bitch.” She walked over to him and kissed him on the cheek while wrapping her arm around his shoulders. “You look exhausted. I worry about you.”
“Well don’t. I’m fine. Anyway, Belle’s doing enough worrying for the both of you.” A frown settled on his forehead. “You made the drive from Crested Peak by yourself? Where the fuck was Jerry?”
“He drove me back. You’re always on his case, Dad.” She went around and sank into the chair in front of his desk.