Page 13 of Under Kid’s Protection

Not formally church, but as far as Kid was concerned, this little meeting was the same. The Royal Bastards of Oklahoma City had three patched members: Kevlar, the chapter president; Kid, the vice president; and Torch, the sergeant at arms.

Additionally, they had two prospective members. They were growing. Slowly but surely. As soon as they figured out a road name for Lionel, he’d get a patch.

That left Bushie outside. Torch had brought him into the fold. A good guy so far, but they’d only met him a few weeks ago. He had yet to prove himself. Earning a patch took time. Considering they had no intention of leaving the city ever again, they had plenty to spare.

They wanted quality members, not just quantity. Numbers were all well and good, but if they were sucky brothers, what was the point? Commitment and loyalty were paramount. Someone couldn’t demonstrate that within a couple of days. They had to be tested. Which they fully intended on doing.

Kev wanted to build his club properly and not make the same mistakes Snoopy had. Jameson had chosen him for the position with that reason in mind. Kid didn’t have the drive to be president, but he supported his brother. Which was why he wore the VP patch. He’d ride into the fire to protect Kev and the club.

Frog was a different sort of situation as a nomad. He earned his patch already, which made him a brother deserving of respect. Kid or Kevlar might never have met him, but that didn’t mean he held no status. There were hundreds, maybe even thousands, of patched members of the Royal Bastards. They’d never encounter each of them. Frog wasn’t tied to a chapter. He answered to Jameson, like they all did. As a nomad, he was akin to Special Forces in the military. His bottom rocker denoted no location. The entire world was his territory. Typically, nomads handled particularly delicate matters. He was elite.

Before them sat one of Jameson’s most trusted men.

On one side of the six-foot folding table was Kev, with Kid and Torch on either side of him. Opposite them sat Frog, cleaning his glasses.

“I haven’t been in Oklahoma for ten years,” Frog said.

“What made you leave?” Kevlar asked.

People didn’t avoid an entire state without a reason. Kid should know.

The nomad before them sighed and slid his glasses back on his face. “There’s a lot of road out there.” He stared off whimsically. “Someone has to travel it.”

Kid frowned at the evasive answer. “What shit did you get into?” he challenged.

Frog shot him a pointed look.

In the months since their return, Kid and Kevlar had dealt with enough. They didn’t need to take on someone else’s drama. Building a club amid chaos didn’t make for a solid foundation. If someone had trouble following them, they could keep on moving.

“What my brother means is, was your absence intentional or coincidental?” Kev used far more tact.

Frog snorted. “Personal,” he said flatly. “I have no warrants or pending charges, and I’m not on probation.” He lifted his leg, rolled up his jeans, and flashed his ankle. “See? No monitor.”

Kevlar nodded. “So, then it’s just your kid?”

The nomad leaned over the table, resting his elbows over it. He brought his hands together and interlaced his fingers. His gaze fixated there as though considering his answers.

“I’m a shit father,” he admitted. “I ain’t seen either of my children in ten years. Haven’t spoken to them in five.”

Kid cocked his head to the side as he listened.

“Which means if their mama is reaching out asking for help, then the situation is real bad.”

Kid sat back. Great. More fucking drama. Couldn’t they have one year of smooth sailing?

“What’s the situation?” Torch asked.

“My oldest is playing with the Russians. Caught a charge. Little thing. Probably will plea out,” Frog said. “Not the footsteps he should be following.”

“So you want permission and access to stick around our territory?” Kev asked.

Frog pursed his lips as he scanned the three men. Biker life was hard. It aged a person. The creases at the corners of the nomad’s eyes, the wrinkles in his forehead, and the graying of his stubble and hair could be due to stress or it could signify age. Kid had a feeling Frog was the oldest person in the room. At twenty-four, Kid had seen a lot, but he doubted what he’d been through compared to Frog. They could use some of his experience while building their numbers.

The nomad licked his lips before he answered. “I think I’m getting too old to roam.”

Full of intrigue, Kid ran a hand along his chin.

“My kid needs guidance. He’s twenty. The time has come for him to learn the family business.” Frog smirked. “I ain’t never been involved in a chapter setting up before, but Jameson said my being here might be a good opportunity for all of us.”