Hawk leaned over the bar and murmured to Zak, “We need to do this an’ soon. Tired of that fucker.”

“Hear ya.” Z looked over at Diesel who sat to his right. “Didn’t wanna do shit until after the weddin’. Weddin’s over.”

“Right,” Diesel grunted.

“Ace on board?” Z asked Hawk.

“Yeah.”

“Jag an’ Dex are, too.”

“Not up to just us, though,” Hawk started. “By-laws state we gotta write up some writ of impeachment or some such shit. Can get Kiki to do that, but need to be brought up at a church meetin’ before the whole club. Says we can’t do it in an executive meetin’.”

“She read the by-laws?” Z asked, surprised.

“Yeah. Asked her to. Wanna make sure when we do it, it sticks.”

“Right,” D grunted.

“Could do that or just wait an’ vote Z back in when Pierce’s term’s up.”

“Shit would be less messy that way,” D suggested. “Also gotta decide if we’re strippin’ ‘im of his colors.”

All three of them looked at each other. No one wanted to do that if it wasn’t completely necessary. But that’s what they had to figure out. Whether they needed Pierce out or just put in his place. His place being just a member and no longer the acting prez.

“Think the membership would want ‘im kicked out?” Zak asked.

“Dunno,” Hawk said. “Know Jag does. ‘Specially after that shit went down with sendin’ Ivy into Dirty Dick’s for intel. Wasn’t his place to decide that shit an’ then keep it from us.”

“Right,” D grunted. He lifted his beer bottle to his lips and took a long pull.

Hawk continued, “Just need two-thirds of us to agree to oust him.”

“No problem gettin’ those numbers,” D informed his brother.

“Also, gotta give ‘im a heads up,” Hawk added.

“What the fuck, why?” D slammed his bottle down on the bar top.

Hawk shrugged. “Keeks said he needs the chance to defend himself. In the by-laws.”

“Lemme just say, saw him eyeballin’ Kelsea at Z’s weddin’. Didn’t like it. Wanna know what that shit’s about. Could be more ammo against the fucker in gettin’ ‘im outta the head spot.”

Hawk stared at his brother. “Didn’t say anythin’.”

No, D didn’t. He wanted to do a little investigating first. He just hadn’t had the chance.

Maybe he needed one of the women to take Kelsea aside and ask her if Pierce overstepped his boundaries as president with her. He tended to be one of the brothers who thought he had every right to any woman within the club.

“Want me or Kiki to talk to ‘er?” Hawk asked.

D shook his head. “I’ll get Jewelee since they’re tight. Gonna talk to Annie, too.”

Hawk nodded.

Between Annie being Kelsea’s mother and also working part-time for Pierce at the gun shop, his aunt might have an idea if anything was going on between Pierce and Kelsea.

No matter what, Pierce had an ol’ lady already—even though that didn’t stop him from scoring snatch whenever he damn well pleased—and he was old enough to be Kelsea’s father.

D couldn’t imagine wanting such an immature piece of ass. But just because it wasn’t his taste, didn’t mean it wasn’t for other men. Some liked to get them young. Kelsea might be in her mid-twenties but she acted so much younger.

“Jewelee gonna be on the back of your sled on the run Sunday?” Z asked, whacking D on the arm and smiling.

Fuck. He forgot about Sunday’s ride that Jag, the club’s Road Captain, set up. Only ol’ ladies usually came along on the back of their man’s bike. There were exceptions, but that wasn’t the norm.

“Ain’t my ol’ lady,” D grumbled.

“Livin’ with her. Should make it official,” Zak suggested.

“Ain’t livin’ with her an’ ain’t lookin’ for a ball an’ chain like you, Z.”

“Ain’t a bad thing,” Z laughed. “Gettin’ it on the regular, always good shit to eat at our place. Gettin’ it on the regular,” Z added again with a smirk.

“Like you ever had a problem gettin’ it on the regular,” Hawk said. “’Cept in prison. Don’t want it on the regular in there.”

“Fuck no. My ass went in a virgin an’ made sure it came out one, too.”

Hawk snorted.

Jag sidled up to them. “Came out with thick callouses on his palm, though.”

“Take a fuckin’ callous over a prison boyfriend any day,” Z said, fake punching Jag.

“Hear you on that, brother,” Jag answered, lifting his fists and tossing a couple fake punches back.

Jag then turned to D. “Bringin’ Jewelee Sunday?”

Jesus. Not again. “Dunno.”

“Ivy’s comin’, Kiki’s comin’, Soph’s comin’.” Jag leaned around D and shouted down to the other end of the bar. “Mama Bear’s comin’ too, right, Grizz?”

“What?” the older man yelled back.

“Mama Bear!” Jag shouted.

“What about the bitch?” Grizz bellowed.

D watched his brother’s head drop. Hawk must have found something interesting on the floor behind the bar. Z snorted.

Jag released a groan before yelling again, “Mama comin’ on the run Sunday?”

“For fuck’s sake, Jag. Gonna ask the old fuck questions, walk the hell down there. Probably don’t have his hearin’ aid in,” D muttered.

“Doesn’t wear a hearin’ aid,” Jag returned.

“He fuckin’ should, then,” Hawk said, fighting back laughter. He then lifted his face to the ceiling and yelled, “Mama Bear comin’ on the ride Sunday?”

Grizz had no problem hearing Hawk’s booming voice. The old man swatted a gnarled hand in their direction. “Fuck no. Needs to stay in the kitchen where she belongs.”

Jag eyeballed Hawk. “Mama in the kitchen?”

Hawk looked over his shoulder in that direction before saying, “Yeah.”

“She comes out swingin’ an iron skillet, I’m runnin’. Just sayin’,” Jag warned.

“You an’ me both, brother,” Z said.

As a door opened, they all froze and looked at each other, wondering who to sacrifice first. Then, as one, they sighed in relief when they realized it was the back door to the private parking lot.

Slade walked in with Dex. Luckily, no one was carrying an iron skillet, instead Dex carried a black leather vest that clearly wasn’t his since he was wearing his own colors.

“Man of the fuckin’ hour,” D grumbled.

Z shot a look his way. “Gonna be a good thing. ‘Specially if we yank Pierce outta his seat.”

“Get it. Not sure if I agree with the no prospectin’ thing,” D clarified.

“Right. Still waited ‘til votin’ on him. Maybe he didn’t have to do grunt work, but he still had to wait.”

“Didn’t think he was in a rush to patch in anyway,” Jag added.

“Yeah, was on the fence,” Z said.

D cocked a brow at Zak. “An’ now he’s not?”

Z shrugged. “Kept on ‘im.”

Hawk shrugged, too. “Need some more solid members, brother. Know that.”

D grunted his response and turned back to his beer when Slade and Dex joined them.

“Got ‘im set up?” Z asked Dex.

D’s cousin nodded. “Yeah. You gonna be inside?”

Z gave Dex a look. “Know I can’t. Ain’t on the board. Gonna wait out here. Chicken Hawk will catch me up after.”

Dex leaned closer to the group and said in a low voice, “We doin’ a coup?”

“A fuckin’ what?” D asked.

“A coup. Watch the fuckin’ news, D.”

D scowled in Dex’s direction.

“Hell, with your crew, you should know what that is, they all probably took part in that kinda shit,” Z said. “Overthrowin’ governments an’ shit. You gotta good nose for sniffin’ out badass motherfuckers to be on your crew.”

D ignored him. “We gonna do this?” he asked no one in particular.

“Where’s Ace?” Dex asked.

Hawk jerked his chin toward the meeting room. “In talkin’ with Pierce.”

D pushed away from the bar. “Then let’s fuckin’ get this done.”

“D’s gotta hurry up an’ get home to Jewel. Big man went down hard,” Dex said behind him.

D stopped his roll and spun on his boot. “Facin’ you now, Dexter. Gonna repeat that?”

Dex lifted his palms up in surrender, laughing. “No harm, no foul, cuz. Just bustin’. Never thought I’d see the day my cousin got caught.”

“Ain’t caught,” D grumbled.

Hawk pushed past Dex and whacked him on the back. “Good thing you’re blood, dickhead. Otherwise, D would’ve had you flat on your ass before you knew what hit you.”

Hawk moved into the meeting room. The rest of them followed, including Slade, their about-to-be newest patched member.

D wasn’t sure if he was one hundred percent on board with that motion. The man hadn’t been around long enough to get a good read on him. Since the Dogs & Hogs event, the guy came and went to club functions as he pleased. But Z and Hawk decided the man didn’t have to prospect and do his time like any other recruit.

Why? Because he jumped in to save some of the women at the event when the Warriors tried to steal the donations Kiki earned for the charity. But any man who had a set of balls on him should’ve done the same. D didn’t think that should give him a pass.

Most of the DAMC prospects were around at least a year before they’d even considered patching the guy in. During that time, they put the recruit through hell to make sure he wanted it bad enough.

Some of them washed out, some didn’t. Like Abe aka Linc. And he figured Moose would go the distance, too.

Rooster he wasn’t sure about and he’d been around the longest. He had gone from hang-around to prospect and that’s where he got stuck. No one wanted him as a brother as of yet. The guy could be a bit of a whiny bitch sometimes.

Then there was Weasel. Another fuck up. Jesus. They needed better recruits.

D took his place at the table, ignoring Pierce’s chin lift to him. He sat to the right of his pop, who sat to Pierce’s right. Jag tended to pick a spot as far from Pierce as he could during the meetings, which was usually at the other end of the table. Ever since Jag had to drag Ivy out of Dirty Dick’s and away from the Knights, he hadn’t wanted to go near Pierce or he might be tempted to take the guy out.

They all agreed that Pierce never should’ve let Ivy go into their territory by herself. And that was the last straw with most of them. The president should’ve discussed it with the board first and brought it to a vote. He didn’t. He and Ivy went behind all of their backs. And that created even more bad blood than there was previously.

Now, D needed to dig around to find out why the fuck the almost fifty-year-old man was staring down Kelsea at the wedding when she was dancing with a Dark Knight.

Shit was just not right with that and it bugged the hell out of D.

Maybe he needed to call Pierce out on it.

But the first order of business Pierce brought up was patching in Slade. The vote went as expected and no one, even Pierce, had a problem with making the guy a member. D’s “aye” vote was done with reservation. If everyone else thought he’d be an asset then fine, he’d agree.

But D would keep an eye on him.

Plus, he could always dig around in the guy’s past, if needed. As long as he didn’t cause any shit, D would let him be. Once Dex handed Slade his cut with all his rockers and patches, he paid his dues to Ace, who was the treasurer, and then walked out the door to go have a drink with Zak.

After the door closed behind the newest brother, Pierce’s gaze landed on him. “Got any news with the Warriors?”

D wondered if he should give the info he had or keep it to himself. He worried his brother might go ballistic when he found out D had Squirrel in his control and hadn’t included him in the “questioning.”

“Squirrel went to ground. Got a bead on him, then he just went ghost. Knows we’re lookin’ for ‘im. Think he got scared when he knew we had his location. Doubt he’s got the balls to show up ‘round here again,” D said and decided to leave it at that. He was only twisting the truth a little, because Squirrel definitely went in the ground and he had permanently disappeared. And it was certainly true he wouldn’t be showing up again.

“Black Jack?” Hawk asked, his eyes steady on D, watching him closely.

D kept his face as blank as possible. “My crew heard a bit of chatter. Sniffin’ his ass out.”

“Want in, brother, if you get ‘im. Squirrel, too,” Hawk said.

Right. And that’s why he wasn’t sharing the truth with his brother. The less people involved in dealing with Squirrel and Black Jack, the better.

“It’s possible Warriors took Squirrel out an’ that’s why he went ghost. Prospect’s expendable. Hard to justify it with a patched member, but Squirrel dick? Don’t need an asshole like that hangin’ ‘round when they know we’re huntin’ him down.”

“We couldn’t be so lucky that they’d take out one of their own,” Ace grumbled next to him.

D shrugged and looked at his pop. “Could happen. Might be a bunch of stupid fucks, but sometimes they need to clean up their trash, too.”

“Keep on it,” Pierce ordered, which pissed D the fuck off since he did not need Pierce giving him orders. Not only on this issue but any issue. There was no way D was giving up the search for Black Jack and Pierce should know that. Hell, everyone else at the table knew better than that. That order was completely unnecessary. The fucker was just trying to get under D’s skin. Which wasn’t hard when it came to Pierce.

So D just grunted his response, letting Pierce take that answer as he wanted.

“Anybody else got anythin’ on the Warriors?” Pierce asked.

Nobody else did.

“All right then, Jag. Sunday’s run. Got that bitch all set up?”

Jag shot Pierce a look. “Yep. All set.”

Pierce’s gaze dropped back on D. “Wanna claim Jewel today before Sunday’s ride?”

All eyes turned his direction.

“Nope.”

“Just some fender fluff, then.”

D’s spine straightened and his eyes slid to Pierce’s and held. “Yeah, fender fluff,” he repeated in a mutter. Ace’s hand dropped to D’s arm below the table, which was the only thing stopping D from leaping across the table and throat punching the motherfucker until that smirk on his face disappeared.

“Which of your cum buckets is ridin’ with you Sunday?”

Pierce was on his feet in a flash, his chair shoved back, his fists planted on the table as he leaned toward D.

Ace jumped to his feet as did Jag and Hawk.

“Boys,” Ace warned in a low and quiet voice. “No reason to get in a tangle over pussy.”

D cocked a brow at Pierce, making his challenge clear. “Wanna come at me?”

Pierce’s gaze swept the table, then he said, “Feelin’ a little outnumbered here. Will let it go this time, brother. Next time...” He let the last hang.

“Next time,” D agreed. He glanced around the table. “We done here?”

“Motion to adjourn,” Dex yelled.

“Second,” Jag added.

Pierce sat down in his chair at the head of the table before asking, “All in favor?”

“Ayes,” rose around the room.

“Gettin’ the fuck outta here,” D muttered to his father.

“Get gone. Go cool off. I’ll keep Pierce here for a few,” Ace said quietly.

“You do that,” D muttered then caught Hawk’s gaze and jerked his chin toward the door. D pushed to his feet and Hawk followed him out, Dex and Jag trailing just behind his brother.

“Bar,” D grunted and headed through the double swinging doors of the commercial kitchen that sat between the clubhouse and The Iron Horse Roadhouse. When he pushed out into the bar, the dead quiet hit him since it was still early morning on a weekday.

The four of them gathered at The Iron Horse’s long, lacquered wooden bar and within a few seconds, Zak came through the kitchen doors to join them.

“What the fuck happened in there?” Z asked, slipping behind the bar to grab a pop from the cooler.

“Just D bein’ a little prickly over nothin’,” Hawk answered, eyeballing Diesel.

“Ain’t over nothin’,” D grumbled.

“Fender fluff’s nothin’,” Hawk answered. “Ain’t a bad term, D, you know that. Just hit you the wrong way. Any bitch on the back of a bike who ain’t an ol’ lady is considered that. Nothin’ new.”

“Never thought I’d see the day D was makin’ a fuss over a b—” Jag’s words stopped abruptly as he rethought them. “Woman,” Jag corrected, wearing a smirk. “’Specially my fuckin’ sister.”

D ignored Jag.

Jewel’s brother continued, “Believe me, if I thought that fucker was insultin’ Jewel, I’d have been the first to introduce him to my fist. Gladly.”

“Right,” D grunted.

“So why we all in here for this impromptu meetin’?” Dex asked, ducking behind the bar and grabbing a can of Coke for himself.

“Gonna head out to the farm later, talk to Annie. Bringin’ Jewelee to take Kelsea aside since they’re close. See if we can get what’s goin’ on between Kels an’ Pierce, if anything. If there is, more fuel for the fire to get his fuckin’ ass out.”

“We gonna do the writ? Or we gonna wait until his term’s up? Let’s decide that first,” Hawk suggested.

“I’m up for gettin’ his ass out ASAP,” Jag said.

“Right. But again, might be a bit messy instead of just waitin’ for the annual vote,” Hawk answered.

“Gotta wait until January for that. Wanna wait that long?” Jag asked, looking a bit annoyed.

“Been president since Z went to prison. Had him at the head of the table for the last decade. What’s another few fuckin’ months? Might give us time to convince all of the brothers to vote Z back in an’ Pierce out.”

“Still wanna see what the fuck’s goin’ on with Kelsea an’ him. I’ll decide after that,” D insisted.

“You do that, then we can go from there. If it’s shit he shouldn’t be doin’ then we can kick his ass out an’ turn our back on ‘im,” Hawk said.

“Strippin’ his colors ain’t just takin’ his cut,” Dex reminded them.

They were all well aware of what stripping his colors meant. It involved not only taking his cut and pulling his membership, it meant something would have to be done about all his DAMC tattoos. Because once they turned their backs on him, he was no longer DAMC and everything that once was had to be wiped clean. And those colors inked into his skin needed to be covered or removed in one way or another.

Plus, they needed to make decisions when it came to Shadow Valley Gun Shop and the gun range. Pierce managed it but didn’t own it one hundred percent. Club funds had started the business, which was profitable and made the club a good amount of scratch.

What a fucking mess, D thought. He really didn’t want to get into all of this now, not with the search for Black Jack still in full swing and trying to make sure everyone was safe from the Shadow Warriors. Because he predicted the next hit from them was coming soon.

In the last few months, things had been escalating with them. So he didn’t expect the nomads to quietly ride off and never be heard from again.

D snorted. It would be way too easy. And when was shit ever easy?

“Want anyone to go with you?” Z asked.

“Nope. Takin’ Jewelee. Good ‘nough.”

“When you goin’?” Hawk asked. “I’ll give Pop a heads up.”

“Later. Soon as Jewelee’s done at the shop.”

“Might wanna let her know first,” Hawk said, amusement flashing in his eyes.

“Ain’t whipped like you, brother.”

Hawk threw his head back and laughed. “So you think.”

Diesel grunted and headed out of the bar, striding through the kitchen before his blood pressure rose again.