Page 31 of Flint
Flint takes it all in, growing stronger and more determined as I fall apart remembering all the details. When I tear up, he drapes one arm around me and pulls me closer. Then he shocks me by leaning over and kissing the top of my head. It’s more protective than romantic, but it’s a Flint kiss when I need it the most. I consider that a gigantic win.
“I promise you that I’ll do everything in my power to keep you safe, figure out who these assholes are, and find that poor bastard they threw in their trunk.”
For the first time since that night on the beltline, I’m able to truly relax. I don’t know how long we sit, but I wake up to him tucking me into bed. I blush when I realize he must have carried me upstairs.
Chapter 9
Flint
Saturday morning church starts at nine sharp. Jules and I roll up to the Sons compound at eight thirty on my bike, which is the first time she has been on the back of it for any real distance. She’s wearing my spare helmet and a leather jacket she brought with her. She teased me about being so obsessed with safety, but I didn’t mind.
I drop her off at the bar and head for the chapel. Brothers are pouring in from the parking lot. Some wave at me or jerk their chins at me in acknowledgment. And they notice that Jules is sitting there with no property cut on her back, looking all smiley and beautiful. Sure, she’s wearing jeans and a fitted T-shirt and a stunning black leather jacket, making her the prettiest thing any of us have seen in a nice long time, but that’s no excuse for the way they can’t take their fuckin’ eyes off what’s mine to protect. I turn and stalk into the chapel, making a mental note that I might have to crack a few heads later.
Church goes the way it always does. I listen, the way I always do, waiting to hear if anything applies to me or if I can be of assistance to my club in any way. I may not always agree with the decisions my club officers make, but I understand it’s not up to me to second-guess their decisions. I am and will always be a loyal brother.
I’m worrying about Jules rather than paying attention to the meeting. I realize this when Jasper says my name and I have to ask him to repeat the question.
“I asked if you had anything to bring up today.”
“Not today, brother. Maybe another day. I’m grappling with something I might need help with later.”
“Alright. We’re here for you if you need us. Anyone else?”
A few minutes later, he bangs the gavel and church is over.
I come to my feet, intent upon getting back out to the bar to check on Jules. I am heading for the door when Rock catches my eye from the head table and jerks his chin in the small motion that means he wants to talk to me. I’ve been avoiding my uncle since he vetoed Tommy’s plan to patch in. But I can’t ignore him forever.
I hang back as the room empties. Jasper gives his old man a look on his way out that seems like pure exasperation. Slate and Onyx file out behind him. The door closes behind them, and it’s just me and Rock.
I walk over to him and ask, “You wanted to talk to me?”
“Have a seat, Flint.” His voice is deep and a little hoarse, like a man who’s spent his life chain smoking, though he never smoked a day in his life. Rock is over sixty. His hair gets grayer every year, as does his beard, but it’s his eyes that capture everyone’s attention. They’re a startling ice blue and can be cold and calculating or warm and approving, depending on his mood.
I pull the chair out across from him and sit down.
The minute my ass hits the seat, he asks, “You got something to say to me?”
I frown at him, trying to work out what this is about. “About what?”
“About your friend.”
“You really want to hear what I have to say about Tommy?”
“I want you to say whatever it is you have been chewing on. Spit it out, son.”
I take a breath and let it rip. “Since you asked, I think you’ve lost your damn mind to use your power as founder of this club to vote him down. He was a solid prospect, dedicated a goddamn year of his life to this club. He did everything that was asked of him and more. If you had a grudge against him, you should have spoken up instead of having him waste a year of his life working his ass off to prove he was worthy of a patch you had no fuckin’ intention of givin’ him.”
“Alright, are you about done mouthin’ off?”
“You asked. I sure as fuck didn’t volunteer.”
“That’s true. Now it’s my turn to talk. Are you gonna listen?”
“You know that I’m a reasonable man. Say what you want to say.”
He leans forward and folds his hands on the table. “Tommy not only has a patch, he ended up with an officer’s position in Mica’s club. He’s currently sittin’ at a table that didn’t fuckin’ exist six months ago. He’s a respected decision maker in Raging Vultures MC. None of that would have happened to him if he’d patched into the Sons of Rage.”
“He wanted and worked for a Sons patch,” I remind Rock.
