Max
What the hell?
Now that I knew it was Bills in that building and he was meeting two Slayers, I couldn’t come up with a single damn reason he should be there. Yes, we were making peace. Yes, we were going to have to work together on that. But that was in the works, not a solid commitment on either of our parts. I still didn’t trust Blade or the Slayers, and that meant, right now, I didn’t trust Bills, either.
Six months ago, when the Preacher died and I took over, there had been a lot of debating over who was who. There was little to no contest as far as me becoming leader. That had been implied for years now, and whether people thought I was too young or too lenient or too goody two shoes for it, they wouldn’t argue it. Not really.
The Preacher had made it clear that should he step down, he wanted me as his replacement. It was years ago that he said and I wasn’t sure if it had more to do with Lucy or me, but I never bothered to ask and neither did anyone else. When the Preacher gave an order, it was law and it had to be followed unquestioningly.
The only moment of uncertainty I’d had was all those years ago on the night the Preacher had made the decision to give me the spot, and it was because he’d had someone else in mind for the spot first.
Bills.
Bills had been the Preacher’s right hand for years and years. He wasn’t old enough to be the Preacher’s contemporary, not quite, but it was close. A lot closer than I was. And Bills knew the business. Not just the cars, but the logistics of running a biker club like ours as well as dealing with some of the unsavory aspects that went along with it. Aspects like killing those who needed killing. Pieces that often didn’t sit very well with me most of the time.
But four years ago, something had shifted. People talked and there were all kinds of rumors about what had happened, but no one really had a definitive answer. Some said Bills fucked up so bad that the Preacher never really forgave him. Some said Bills deliberately stepped down on his own and the Preacher didn’t have anything to do with it. And some said there had been a private battle between myself and Bills to determine who had the right to be at the Preacher’s side.
I could honestly say that last one was complete bullshit. Whatever happened between Bills and myself had never amounted to much more than a disagreement here and there. In fact, the only one that had been any kind of a large disagreement had been over Lucy. At that cookout at the Preacher’s place. Now that I thought about it, it wasn’t long after that day that the Preacher made the announcement.
Bills hadn’t seemed overly upset about it, but he hadn’t been pleased either. After that, I started learning the trade in earnest and Bills took a back seat. He became my de facto bodyguard, while I started to act in that capacity for the Preacher.
It didn’t take long for everyone to settle down about the whole thing, including Bills and myself, but when the Preacher died six months ago and his will was actually implemented, things got stirred up again.
Suddenly, people were scrambling to take up the job I’d held: lieutenant. It was a title of honor that meant you were the right hand of the club leader. It could be dangerous, though, because it also meant you acted as bodyguard for said leader. If they were in a dangerous situation, it was your job to get them out of it.
A lot of people told me they should be my lieutenant, people I even liked. That didn’t unsettle me really because it was my choice and it was natural for people to put in their bid for it. What did bother me was when people told me I shouldn’t make Bills my lieutenant. Not because they wanted it or felt like so and so would be better suited for it, but because they felt like there was something wrong with Bills.
You should never mistrust your lieutenant. When I made Bills mine, I did it working under the assumption that the Preacher had always trusted him. Even when he’d changed his successor to me, he always told me, “You can trust him, Max boy. Bills is a rough man on the outside, but he’s as loyal as any man I’ve ever met and then some. You can’t do better.”
So I did as told. I hadn’t regretted that decision, but as I watched the meeting come to a close, handshakes all around, I had the sinking suspicion I was about to.
When the men finished up, they went for the door.
“Shit,” I said, then ducked down lower, trying to cover myself as best I could amidst the tall grass and the brush.
The two Slayers went out first. They did a quick sweep of the place, looking to see if there was anyone around watching them. There was, but thankfully they didn’t spot me. Satisfied they were safe and no one had witnessed their illicit meeting, they hopped onto their motorcycles and rode off with a blast of sound. Bills came out next, but he lingered for a while by the door. He took something out of his pocket, checked it, then cursed and put it back. He waited several long minutes, not knowing I crouched there watching him.
Finally, he checked his watch and apparently decided it was okay to go. He scooped up his helmet, which was set beside the door, and headed around back. I realized he must have parked a little out of the way so no one would spot him—more cautious than his associates, I noticed. If I wanted to follow him farther, I realized this would probably be my only shot. If I lingered here by the window any longer, there was a good chance I’d get stuck here as he drove off. Otherwise I’d be seen, and by the time I could get to my bike, he’d be long gone.
Making a quick decision, I ducked out from beneath the window. Staying low to the ground, I ran as fast as I could to that billboard towards my bike. I heard his start to rev just as I got to mine. I ducked behind the billboard when I heard the sound getting closer. Just barely peeking my head out to see, I watched as Bills drove up the road towards the freeway.
I gave him a little bit of a head start, then hopped onto mine, hoping he wouldn’t notice me as I attempted to trail him. I needed to know where he was going and what the hell was doing.
There was a good chance my life depended on it.