Back out in the bar, the welcome home party I had been anticipating has pretty much soured. Around the room, a lot of pissed off brothers throw back shots and drain their beers, faces tense. I take a step toward Brick and Hawk, ignoring the warning look Brick shoots me.

“Hey, brother, no hard feelings,” I say to him, lifting my chin. “I just think we need to think things through a little before we go jumping feet first into a whole other type of business venture.”

“That’s the fuckin’ problem with this club under Rock,” Brick mutters. “We sit around and think. Meanwhile, we’re letting all sorts of opportunities pass us by, and getting paid shit for it.”

Whoa. These words are damn near mutinous, coming from Brick. I’ve never heard him express such open dissatisfaction with our Prez.

“It isn’t like we don’t know what’s really driving him on this,” Hawk agrees, his eyes hard and dark. “God fuckin’ forbid that anything happens in this town that hurts Abe fuckin’ Abbott’s chances of getting reelected.”

Oh, so that’s what it is. I knew there were a few members of the Lords who are less than thrilled with what they see as Rock’s tying the club’s fortunes to the mayoral campaign of Abe Abbott. And frankly, I can’t completely say I blame them. Abe’s been promising the Lords all sorts of perks if he gets reelected for a while now. Rock’s been keeping our less legitimate business out of sight and using the club’s manpower to make sure things in Tanner Springs run smooth as a top to help the campaign. But so far the club hasn’t seen shit in return, as far as I can tell.

As we stand there, Skid comes over, a look of disgust on his face. “What the fuck am I supposed to do with this?” he spits, waving his thin envelope with a sneer. “This shit barely pays my rent for the month.”

“Yeah,” Hawk nods glumly. “There’s gonna be more than one guy looking for ways to supplement his income, if this continues.”

Taking on side gigs without club approval is a no-go. But if things continue like they’re going, I’m not sure how Rock will be able to say no to it.

Skid shakes his head. “No shit. Next thing you know, I’ll be working as a fucking mall cop to make ends meet.”

I grin and try to lighten the mood a little. “No offense, brother, but you are not getting a job as a mall cop,” I say, nodding toward the wall of tattoos running up and down both of his arms and up his neck.

As Skid opens his mouth to reply, a shout erupts from the other side of the room. I look up just in time to see Angel stand up from his bar stool, fists clenching angrily. Facing him is Horse, his shoulders squared like he’s looking for a fight.

“Goddamn it, not again,” Skid mutters.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“Shit’s been pretty tense since you’ve been gone,” he tells me. “This is the third fight in as many weeks. Brothers are just pissed. Feeling the money squeeze, I guess. Needing to blow off steam.”

Ah. Well, that explains the bruises I saw on some of the brothers in church.

“What the fuck do you care, man?” Horse is shouting at Angel. “Of course you fucking voted no. Your daddy can always float you the cash, as long as he’s still the goddamn mayor.”

“Are you fucking questioning my loyalty to this club?” Angel shouts. He’s so fucking furious that veins are popping out of his neck.

“Oh, shit,” I murmur, and set down my beer to stride toward them.

Before I can get there, though, all hell breaks loose. Horse, already half in the bag, throws a wild punch at Angel, catching him in the shoulder. The only reason it connects at all is because there’s a table in the way so Angel can’t duck. Angel roars with anger and launches himself at Horse, knocking him to the ground with a crash of splintering wood.

Sarge moves in, and tries to pull Angel off Horse. But before he can, Beast, who’s the biggest of us all, throws himself into the fray and throws Sarge backwards like he’s no heavier than a sack of potatoes. As he does, Jewel, who’s carrying a bottle of whiskey and trying to get out of the way, is slammed hard against the counter before anyone can stop her.

The sound of shattering glass and Jewel’s piercing cry slice through the brawl like a knife. In a heartbeat, Angel scrambles up and stands, leaving Horse sprawled on the ground. “Fuck, Jewel,” he says as he stares at her hand. “Shit.”

We all look. Her wrist and the meat of her palm are cut deeply, blood pulsing out of the wound rhythmically. It looks like she might have hit a vein. Jewels stands there for a second, staring dumbly at her hand as though it belongs to someone else. The, just as one of the men yells for a towel, her legs buckle under her. Angel catches her, lowering her gently to the ground, and then Sarge is there, wrapping her wrist tightly to stanch the flow of blood.

“Jesus Christ. Let’s get her to a goddamn hospital,” Rock’s voice comes from behind me. I turn. “Beast. Gunner. Help me load her into the van.” His face is a mask of anger. “The rest of you, settle your bullshit while I’m gone.”

Beast bends down and lifts Jewel in his arms, then carries her out the door as the rest of us look on. I glance over at Angel, who swears softly and looks down.

“Shit, I feel bad about that,” he murmurs. “Jewel’s one of the good ones, you know? She pours a mean drink, and she keeps her mouth shut.”

“She’ll be okay, brother,” I half-laugh. “She’s not gonna die. The docs at the hospital will patch her up, and she’ll be back to work. And you know the club will make sure she’s got enough to live on until then.”

“Yeah,” Angel nods. “I suppose.” He looks up at me, and gives me a rueful smile. “Meantime, looks like we’ll be pouring our own drinks for a while. We’re not gonna find another girl like that so easily.”