“Reece just sent the background reports over for the potentials,” Roman says when he tosses down a stack of papers in front of me on the table before our weekly Savage Kings meeting gets started. I’m beat, having been here since early this morning, drinking and coming up with ways to torment our prospects to see who has what it takes to wear our patch. “I didn’t mention to him that we may have already weeded some out.”
“Good,” I reply with a grin since I know the military man in the original Kings wouldn’t appreciate having his time wasted.
Roman starts to say something, but then some other guys come in and sit down. Still, I’m not all that surprised when he kicks off the meeting by asking me, “How are things going with the potential prospects?”
“Fine, I’m narrowing it down,” I answer truthfully. Tapping my finger on the stack of paperwork, I add, “These reports from Reece will help. I’ll get rid of any with red flags.”
“Yeah? What about Roy’s boy? He still in the running?” Roman asks.
“Who?” Winston asks, echoing my own question.
“Roy Allen’s son. It’s the one on top,” Roman says as he stands up to reach across the table to take the page from my stack. “T.J. Allen. The kid left off the name of his father on the form and even their real name, but of course Reece figured it out by date of birth. I guess T.J. didn’t want special treatment because his dad was the president of the Charlotte Savage Kings. Is he still in the running or not?”
“You’re sure it’s T.J. Allen?” I ask in disbelief. Roman slides the paper back to me to see for myself. There could be two T.J.s, right? Mine and then this guy? Surely Teagan wouldn’t have kept something as important as her father being a Savage King president from me, right? Although, she did mention he taught her to ride and defend herself. She just left out the part about him dying while wearing the patch.
Seeing the phone number, I ask for Cannon’s cell phone since he’s sitting next to me. For some reason, I guess I don’t want my number showing up on her caller ID in case I’m right.
“What? Why?” Cannon asks.
“Just hand it over!”
“Fine.” The blond fucker huffs but finally caves and pulls out the device. Once he unlocks it by putting in the code, I dial the number on the form and put the phone up to my ear.
“Hello?” she answers cheerfully. “Helloooo? Anyone there? I don’t have a car, so I don’t need your fucking extended warranty, so stop calling me,” the voice I know all too well from hearing her scream my name says before she hangs up.
“Fuck,” I mutter as I hand Cannon back his phone.
“You want to finally share with the class now?” Winston grumbles.
“Yeah, man, we don’t have all day,” Roman agrees. “Spill it.”
“T.J. isn’t Roy’s son,” I inform them.
“What do you mean? The birth certificate’s a lie?” Roman asks.
“What I mean is T.J. is Roy’s daughter, not his son.”
“Daughter?” Roman asks in surprise, his brows nearly reaching his auburn hairline.
“Guess Reece didn’t mention that to you, huh?”
“No. He must have assumed it was obvious, that we would already know from meeting her,” Roman remarks.
“Guess so. Anyway, she insists on going by T.J. Her first name is Teagan, of all fucking things,” I tell the table. “But what does it matter? It’s not like the original Kings would ever really let a female wear the bearded skull king patch, right?”
“Sure, it would be…different, but I don’t see why they wouldn’t,” Roman says. “In fact…I’ll be right back.” He stands up and leaves the chapel a second later while the rest of us wait in silence, all eyes on me.
When our president returns, he’s carrying a binder that looks like a Harley manual but is actually a copy of the Savage Kings bylaws. Placing the binder on the table, he flips through the pages, then reads aloud from it.
“Prospects cannot be denied membership because of race, religion, or sexual orientation. The sole requirements before a prospect can be patched in as a full member are 1.) adequate prospecting time served under a sponsor, the amount of which time is to be determined by the president, 2.) the ability to ride a Harley without dropping it and 3.) be unanimously approved by all current members in good standing who wholeheartedly agree that the newbie is loyal, honest, and trustworthy.”
Cannon whistles from beside me. “Not a word about a gender requirement.”
“You’re joking, right?” I say in disbelief.
“Does anyone have a problem with a female prospecting or becoming a member?” Roman asks the table.
“As long as she can ride, is loyal and trustworthy, then I don’t see a problem with it,” Verek declares.
“This is ridiculous!” I exclaim. “How can you even consider the idea of letting some chick dodge bullets for the club?”
“If she knows the dangers, then what’s the problem?” Roman asks. “Besides, it’s not like this girl doesn’t understand what she’s getting into. Her old man was gunned down wearing the patch and still she wants to be a member.”
“Pretty fucking brave if you ask me,” Winston says.
I push my chair back to stand up. “Fuck you all! This is complete and utter bullshit!”
The guys glance silently around the table at each other, then Roman sighs. “You’ve already fucked her, haven’t you?”
A bark of laughter comes up my throat. “I’ve done a helluva lot more than fucked her.”
I’ve beaten her ass with my hand and belt, eaten her out, bitten her, claimed her in every way but one that I plan on doing very soon.
“Calm down and sit your ass back in that chair,” Roman orders. I grit my teeth but do as I’m told since he is the president.
“There’s nothing in the bylaws about fucking prospects or members, so what’s the problem, Marcus?” Verek asks.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I lean back and tell him, “The problem is that women don’t belong in here at this table with us!”
Cannon clears his throat. “Where exactly do you think women belong, man? If you say only in the bedroom and kitchen, I might punch you. I’m glad my ol’ lady is a powerhouse with her own ass-kicking career. Seeing her in charge of the whole goddamn city? That shit is hot.”
“Yeah, Cannon is right.” Conrad, of course, agrees with his twin. “And I wouldn’t tell her that if you ever want to get laid again.”
“It’s not about me thinking a woman isn’t capable of riding or whatever,” I try to explain. “I just don’t want her to be put in the line of fire.”
Winston whistles low and long then says, “Break out the parachute, because it looks like you’re falling, bro!”
“Could you just adjourn this fucking meeting already so I can go deal with the potential prospects?” I grumble at Roman.
“I guess, if there’s no other business?” Nobody pipes up with anything, so Roman picks up the gavel and slams it down. “Is Teagan out there? I’d like to meet her,” he says, but no one stands up to leave.
“Me too,” Cannon announces, followed by several others.
“No, she’s not here!”
Roman frowns. “Why not? You’re meeting with the few remaining prospects, right? Did she not make the cut?”
I consider that question and can’t think of a legitimate reason why to exclude her. “She’s technically still in the running, I guess.”
“Then tell the rest they can go,” Nolan suggests. “I want the president’s daughter to prospect.”
When I glare at him, he rolls his eyes and says, “She knows what she’s getting into. I bet you the rest are just naïve boys who want to wear the patch to get easy pussy. Am I wrong?”
I can’t even argue with him about that since he’s probably right.
“We’ve officially adjourned, but everyone is still in the room,” Roman remarks. “If nobody objects, then get the girl a prospect cut and bring her in with you next week so we can all meet her.”
That makes me scoff. “I thought I was supposed to be the one who decides who our next prospect will be!”
“You were – before we had a legacy of a fallen Savage King president show up on our doorstep,” Winston replies. “Now it’s a no-brainer. If T.J. has half the balls of her father, then she’ll fit in just fine.”
“She doesn’t have any balls!” I remind them.
Winston narrows his eyes at me. “It’s a fucking expression!”
“Sounds like she just got herself a brand-new set of big steel balls,” Verek remarks, then bends down to look under the table. “Looks like you might be missing yours, Marcus.”
“Go to hell. All of you,” I say. “I object. There, you happy now? Without a unanimous vote, she doesn’t wear a prospect cut.”
“You really going to do this to her, to keep her out of the club just because she’s female?” Roman asks.
“Yes,” I answer instead of admitting the truth, that I wouldn’t give a shit about any other woman who wanted to try and earn the Savage King patch. I just don’t want that person to be Teagan.
It’s too dangerous, and while she’ll hate me for it when she eventually finds out, she should thank me for protecting her.
“Fine. She won’t prospect for us,” Roman reluctantly agrees.
“Good. Great. I’ll go talk to the guys who actually may get the prospect patch.”
Since Roman’s officially adjourned, I get up and storm out of the chapel to find out the names of the boys who are still in the running. I’ll torture them a little tonight and probably have them come back for more tomorrow.
I’m just relieved that it only takes one vote to keep Teagan out of the MC. I want to keep her all to myself, in my house, away from the other Kings and the danger that’s part of our club.
The fear just from the thought of her getting hurt is enough to nearly give me a goddamn panic attack.
