Page 6 of Always My Fate

Oaky cleared his throat and said, “We’ve got confirmed sightings of MDMC colors near the south fenceline last week. Three bikes, no patches showing, but the ink on display and the trashy rides scream Monster Devils. They didn’t engage, but Horse thinks they’re testing to find visibility holes in the defenses. We’ve finally gotten a hard entrance from the ranch Glenna and Horse have and the clubhouse property we’ve bought there. That one thing cuts our response time in half, depending on what part of the perimeter the assholes are aiming at. Horse doubled the watch and locked shit down solid, but if they come at us, we need to be ready to push back harder.”

A low growl ran around the table. One of the newer patches muttered, “Fuckin’ cockroaches,” and Blackie slammed his palm down again.

“You’re right, they’re roaches. We stomped their asses once, and they’re still crawling back for more. I want eyes and ears on every road between here and Belle. No lone riders, no half measures, and no unapproved action. We’re not gonna go rogue, and anyone riding out needs to have a direct line back to Mother in case of contact. Make no mistake, we do and will continue to protect what’s ours, and that’s Horse, Glenna, and that whole fledgling chapter. They’re Freed Riders, which means they’re family. Any asshole who forgets that gets my boot up his ass.”

He stared around the table, letting the weight of his words settle. “Vote. All in favor of full support for Belle chapter—aye.”

A chorus of “Aye” rolled through the room without hesitation. Even Gunny lifted his hand with a nod. Pride surged in his chest—raw and fierce. These men had his back, and he had theirs.

“Opposed?” Silence. Blackie gave a sharp nod. “Motion carries. Rook, coordinate with Horse. Oaky, make sure we’ve got a couple more prospects ready to roll south if needed. Gunny—” He pinned the big man with a look. “You staying to help us kick some MDMC ass, or you just here for the free beer?”

Gunny chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Free beer’s a bonus, Prez. But yeah, I’ll stick. Got a feeling those guys aren’t done sniffing around. Might as well make sure they remember what happens when they fuck with Freed Riders.”

Blackie’s lips curled into a hard smile. “Good. Church is closed. Now get out there and make yourselves useful. And somebody tell the prospect to bring in more beer—I’m buying tonight.”

The room erupted in laughter and the scrape of chairs as the men stood. Blackie stayed seated for a moment, watching them file out, his mind already turning over the intel on the MDMC. Those assholes were persistent, he’d give them that. But persistence only got you so far when you were up against the Freed Riders.

He pulled out his phone and glanced at the screen—no new messages from Peaches. Good. She was resting, which meant he could focus. For now.

But the knot in his gut told him the quiet wouldn’t last.

The last of the brothers had cleared out of the meeting room, leaving behind the familiar haze of smoke and the low hum of the fridge in the corner. Gunny hadn’t left with the others. The big bastard was sprawled in his chair like he was important, one boot propped on the edge of the table, watching Blackie with a shit-eating grin that had always meant trouble.

“Spit it out, asshole,” Blackie growled, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest. “You didn’t stick around just to admire my leadership skills.”

Gunny chuckled, deep and rumbling. “Nah. Though you do bang that gavel like you mean it. Almost made me feel all official and shit.” He dropped his boot to the floor and leaned forwards, elbows on the table. “Heard Peaches is gettin’ close. You prepared to trade in your prez patch for another round of diaper duty, Daddy?”

Blackie’s eyes narrowed, but the corner of his mouth twitched despite himself. “Fuck you, Gunny. I’m plenty ready. That kid’s gonna come out swingin’—probably already got my mouth on him, cursin’ up a storm in there. And just so you know, I’ve done my fair share of wiping asses.”

Gunny barked a laugh, slapping the table. “Shit, man. You? Changing diapers? I’d pay good money to see that. Big bad Blackie, president of the Mother Chapter, wrist-deep in baby shit at three in the morning. ‘Hold still, you little motherfucker, or I’ll—’”

“Finish that sentence and I’ll knock your teeth so far down your throat you’ll be shittin’ ’em out for a week,” Blackie cut in, but there was no real heat in it. He rubbed a hand over his beard, glancing towards the door like he could see through it all the way home to Peaches. “Truth is, this is about the time in every pregnancy where I realize I’m fuckin’ terrified. Never had anything this important before. Club’s one thing—we bleed for it, we fight for it. But this? Another kid? My kids? That’s blood and bone and everything I got. What if I fuck it up? What kinda legacy is that?”

Gunny’s grin softened but only a fraction. He wasn’t one to let a brother wallow. “Legacy? You built this club from the ground up, you stubborn prick. Survived more wars than most men see in three lifetimes. Your tribe is gonna have the meanest, most loyal old man in Texas. Long as you don’t drop the newest one on his head or teach him to call everyone a cuntmuffin before he can walk, he’ll be fine.”

Blackie snorted, the tension easing a little. “Cuntmuffin’s a classic. Kid’ll thank me when he’s old enough to appreciate fine language.” He shook his head, pushing up from the table. “Seriously though. Peaches is carrying my blood, man. I know it’s again, happened before, but this fuckin’ time feels different. We got enemies. An open war. MDMC’s sniffing around the edges. I can’t be everywhere at once. What if—”

“What if the sky falls and the cows start flyin’?” Gunny interrupted, standing as well. “You’ll handle it like you always do. Club’s got your back. Brothers’ll step up. And Peaches? That woman’s tougher than half the assholes that were in this room. She’ll keep your ass in line and raise another hell of a Rider.” He clapped a heavy hand on Blackie’s shoulder. “You got this, Prez. Just don’t name the kid Gunny Junior. I got dibs on that one for my own someday.”

Blackie barked a laugh and shoved him off. “Like fuck you do. Get outta here before I change my mind about letting you crash on the couch tonight. And Gunny?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks, brother.”

Gunny grinned again, heading for the door. “Anytime. Now go home to your woman before she decides she likes peace and quiet better than your loud ass.”

Blackie watched him go, the knot in his shoulders loosening just a fraction. Gunny was right. I have this. We all do.

But as he pulled out his phone to check for any word from Peaches, that familiar worry sat heavy in his gut. Club. Family. Legacy. I’ll fight like hell to keep them all safe.

***

Blackie was halfway out the door when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, expecting another update from Horse or some bullshit from one of the prospects. The name on the screen stopped him cold—Peaches’ name, but the call wasn’t coming from her cell.

It was the landline at the house.

His gut twisted hard as he answered. “Peaches? Baby, you okay?”