Dax sat in his spot at the round table looking out at Clay, Handsome, and Beezy. He was down a vice president, a sergeant at arms, and a treasurer. Franklin, his treasurer, was in jail. He’d been arrested with Scar. Turbo was facing murder charges for killing that cop. He’d never be back, and now Max was dead. Dax had been so pissed off when Max left that he’d almost taken steps to replace him then. But Handsome and Beezy had calmed him down. They’d made him look at it from a different perspective. Max didn’t leave because he was afraid and wanted to hide. He left to keep the wrath of the people pissed off at him from touching his club. Now he was dead and once again the Sinners were somehow right in the middle of it; Dax just wasn’t sure how. He’d just filled the rest of the executives in on what they knew so far about Mad Max’s movements and his death, which wasn’t much. He had a trip planned for the weekend up to Canada to check out a rumor he’d heard about where Hawk was hiding out. If he found him, the old son of a bitch had a lot to answer for…before he died.

Dax had spent six hours at the police station three days ago. He was interrogated by the FBI about the stolen coins for half of it, and the other half he was told one of his best friends was dead and then basically accused of having something to do with it. He’d left there smoldering. When he got back to the ranch, Angel had been waiting for him and as usual, her presence calmed him. Once again he’d tucked the suspicions he had about her into the back of his mind. He didn’t want to be suspicious of her. He wanted her, period. It was something entirely new for him and he wasn’t sure how to handle it. He’d been raised to be suspicious of anyone outside of his “family.” And Angel was the first person that he’d ever given the benefit of the doubt when his gut was still telling him something was wrong. He knew he’d have to deal with it sooner or later, which would probably mean following her, or having someone else follow her around for a while. But today wasn’t going to be that day.

He called the meeting of what was left of his executive board the morning after being at the station all day, and told them about Max. After they all had time to express their anger and grief and disgust over that, he’d told them about the FBI presence in town and that the Feds were very likely not going away for a while. They’d have to adjust at the ranch. By “adjustments” he meant heightened security, sweeping for bugs, and finding new hiding places for things they didn’t want discovered. He didn’t have to tell any of these guys that, though; they all knew what he meant.

When he finished talking about all of that, he looked around at his small and now depressed group. With a sigh, he said, “So, we need to talk about having an election and replenishing this executive board.” Dax technically had the power to assign whomever he wanted to positions within the club, but he didn’t like doing things that way. He made suggestions and put it to a vote. If anyone was strongly opposed to one of his suggestions, he did his best to listen to their side with an open mind. It was one of the reasons he was so respected among his crew.

“I’m suggesting Handsome for VP,” he went on to say. “If no one is opposed and he takes it we’ll need a new road captain. For that position, I was thinking about Pretty Ricky.” A couple of the guys nodded and he continued, “I’m also thinking about Pablo for sergeant at arms and Nolan for treasurer. Any of you have any other suggestions, I’m open to hearing them.” The truth was that just as they were falling so short on men, there weren’t a lot of young, healthy men left to choose from. They had six prospects that would probably be an asset to the crew, but lately Dax hadn’t had much time to spend with them.

“Thanks, Dax,” Handsome said. “I’d be honored.”

“I think those sound like great choices,” Beezy added.

“I second that,” Clay said.

“So do we need to take a vote or are we all in agreement?”

The guys all looked at each other and each one gave his okay for the suggestions to Dax. Handsome formally accepted the appointment, and as Dax handed him the VP patch, an image of what he imagined Max’s tortured body to look like came into his head. He almost shuddered before chasing away that vision.

“Okay, I’ll talk to Nolan and Pablo this afternoon.” Pablo was someone Dax had known for almost twenty years. He was about twelve years younger than Dax and they were neighbors Pablo’s whole life. His real name was Paul Jackson, but he had a Mexican mother and he got her dark eyes, hair, and skin. When he was a prospect the guys started calling him Pablo and it stuck. Nolan was even younger than Pablo. He’d traveled from Illinois just for a chance at becoming a prospect with the Skulls. They’d kind of laughed him off as a groupie at first until one day one of Hawk’s guys pulled a knife on Beezy in the bar and thanks to Nolan’s quick actions, he wasn’t able to plunge it into Beezy’s back like he’d planned. Dax gave him a prospect spot after that and had since found out how good the kid was with numbers. He was like some kind of math savant or something. And of course, Handsome was the best man for VP, Dax thought. The only one, really. He’d been with Dax the longest and he knew all the ins and outs of the club. Pretty Ricky had also been around for years and he was one of the best bike riders that Dax had ever known except for Handsome. Road captain duties were to coordinate routes and positions when riding with multiple riders, and most especially to teach everyone how to be safe on the road. Rick Collins was his real name. He has one of those faces that women go crazy for with big lips and gigantic hazel eyes. He was always fussing with his hair and he was the only one of them that kept his face completely clean-shaven, which was how he got his name. Dax said, “You all know we’re leaving for Quebec in the morning, right?”

“Um, not sure my passport’s in order, boss,” Clay said with a chuckle. It was his usual joke. Felons were hard-pressed to get a driver’s license, much less a passport. Dax rolled his eyes. He wasn’t in much of a joking mood at the moment. When they went to Canada, which was not often, they went through Vermont. There was an unguarded crossing in a little town of about two hundred people in a city called Stanstead. They left their bikes in the garage of a man named Dennis who was an old friend of Dax’s father’s. Then they drove across the border in the man’s SUV with Canadian plates. Everyone except the driver was hidden ion the floorboards or underneath blankets so when the security camera went off, all it got is a picture of a man in a ball cap. When the border agents came to check it out days later, they’d find Dennis…a dual Canadian/American citizen, …sitting on his front porch and wearing the same ball cap. It was a plan Doc and Dennis had came up with years before, and it was genius as far as Dax was concerned. There was a chapter of the Skulls in Quebec, and Dax wanted to enlist their help in finding Hawk and the rest of the Sinners who had gone underground.

Ignoring Clay’s comment, he said, “We leave here at 6 a.m. We should get to Dennis’s place by 10 a.m. and then up to the border crossing at Church Street by noon. I want to keep to the schedule as much as possible. Jean Claude has a list of places where ‘bikers’ that aren’t wearing local colors have been spotted lately. We’re going to check out as many as we can. I’d love to luck out and find that SOB belly-up to the bar in one of them, but that’s probably too much to ask. Either way, I have to be back here by Sunday afternoon.”

“What’s going on Sunday?” Handsome asked.

“I have an appointment,” Dax said, leaving it at that. He had some business to take care of. It was business that would benefit the club, but he didn’t want anyone to know about it just yet. It wasn’t his usual way of doing things, but with the FBI and the cops sniffing around and the possibility, no matter how slim, that someone was feeding them information, he couldn’t be too careful.

Handsome raised his eyebrows and Beezy said, “Okay, boss, what’s next on the agenda?”

“Whiskey,” Dax said. That was met with a round of “Hell yeahs,” and they all filed out of the meeting room and back into the great room. His eyes landed on Angel’s hot, round backside as soon as he stepped into the big room. She was wearing a black metal t-shirt, a pair of skin-tight jeans, and black boots. Her blonde hair flowed down across her shoulders and lay against her back in waves, standing out like the sun against the black background. She was standing across the room talking to Beezy’s sister and holding a beer in her hand. When the other woman looked in their direction, Angel turned her head too. Those sexy green eyes landed on his face and she smiled. That was all it ever took for him to feel a surge of blood that caused his jeans to tighten and his balls to ache.

She said something else to Beezy’s sister and then came over toward Dax. When she reached him, she slid her arms up around his neck and stood on her tiptoes so that she could reach his mouth. She pressed her lips into his, and he opened his mouth and sucked in her tongue. They stood there and made out while his hands slid up and down her body, and for a second he forgot that they weren’t alone. In the past there had been times, when a good party was going on, that he’d just push the girl to her knees right there and make her suck his dick in front of everyone. He felt it surge and he was tempted…but this was Angel and all the rules were different for her. He pulled out of the kiss at last and said:

“Mm, what was that for?”

“Just because I missed you.” She smiled and his stomach did a crazy flip. Looking around the room as people headed for the door she said, “Where’s everyone going?”

“Headed over to the bar. You up for a big party?”

“Sure. What are we partying for?”

He grinned and slapped her on the ass. “Just for the hell of it,” he said. “It’s been too long since we’ve had any good times around here.” She took his hand and they headed out to the bike. He noticed Handsome watching them while Callie slid on her helmet. He was still suspicious that Angel was the one who had set them up. Dax wanted to be pissed at him for that, but if the shoe were on the other foot, he’d feel the same way. Angel was the only new one on the ranch, and everything Dax knew about her was what she’d told him herself. That was not his usual way of doing things. But fuck…It’s Angel.