Making Choices (Black Shamrocks MC Book 2) (25 page)

“You’re full of shit. You just want the President’s patch,” Lenny accuses, sounds of agreement exploding around the room at his indictment of Mad Dog’s motives.

His eyes are wild, piercing straight through Mad Dog’s head as his rage takes over.

He’s livid, ready to explode. Beast may have the hair-trigger temper, but Lenny’s is pretty impressive on its own. He just takes a lot longer to lose it.

His temper is the reason he is the only brother without a road name.

Nothing stuck when he was prospecting because he made sure it didn’t.

“Fuck you, Lenny. He fucking admitted it. Said Lainey’s already ruined, so the choice between the club and her was fucking simple.” Panting hard, his hands planted on the table, I know that his next move is to leap over it and smack Lenny in his disbelieving face.

“For fuck’s sake. Everyone shut up,” I yell.

The room is going to implode in a matter of seconds if someone doesn’t step up.

Bang.

Bang.

Beast brings the gavel down.

“Sit the fuck down.” Beast glares at every brother, one by one, until everyone is back in their seat or standing back against the wall. “This is still my Club. We follow the fucking procedures.”

That’s a bit rich coming from the fucker who’s just shit all over our rules and procedures.

“Continue.” He points the end of the gavel at Mad Dog.

“As I was saying,” he sends a pointed look at Lenny as he resumes speaking, “between Two-Ton Tony telling me and Timber that our women were snatched by the Mavericks to
broker peace
and Cam telling us about the deal they had with Beast, we decided to bring them all back to the bunker for questioning. Before I called this challenge, we met with Beast in the bunker and showed him Wizard’s body, Cam, Connor, and the other fucking Mavericks.”

I nod, backing his version of events.

“We fought after he told me that I’d fucked up his plans. That I’d signed a death warrant for each one of you. After he told me that he made the deal because when it came time to choose between everything he’s worked for and Lainey, it wasn’t a hard choice because she’s already ruined.”

Curses erupt as each of our brothers’ take in Mad Dog’s words.

There’s a pretty even divide in the group, one portion looking ready to take down Beast while the remaining faction appears to share the same thoughts as Lenny regarding me and Mad Dog.

“Is that everything?” Beast addresses the room.

He hasn’t met our eyes since he opened the floor to us, and he doesn’t meet them now.

I know I’m not the only one shocked by his quiet acceptance of the allegations against him. The best guess I can make is that he knows it’s over, or he has something up his sleeve. My bet being on the former, because until this current shit blew up in his face, Beast has never been one to hide anything. More often than not he’s too straightforward.

“I reserve the right to rebut.”

“Agreed.”

Bang
.

The gavel hits the sound block, taking us another step closer to the end.

Expectation grows in the room, weaving itself around us all like a dark cloud.

This is a momentous—and epically fucked-up—occasion for the Shamrocks.

We’ve never had a challenge for the President’s patch—or a President accused of treason.

“Mad Dog is correct,” Beast declares.

His words are clear, forceful, and grim. Still favoring his split lip, he continues speaking, maintaining the same matter-of-fact tone even in the face of the confounded reactions of his brothers—the men he’s led for the past five years.

The men who until this moment trusted him enough to throw their lives down for him without question.

“What he doesn’t know are the reasons behind it. I did this for the Club. For my sons. Even for my baby girl. I did it to protect all of us. And I’d fucking do it again. ”

Mad Dog growls when Beast refers to Maddi by the endearment he’s called her for the duration of her life. No doubt he feels, and I agree, that Beast’s actions have removed his right to mention her with love.

The chapel falls silent when Beast does. Not one person speaks; the only sounds to be heard are breathing and the occasional bout of fidgeting.

“Are you gonna fill us in, or is it time to vote?” Lenny asks in a hard, no nonsense voice.

His faith in his younger brother is gone. If hatred was looking to manifest into human form, it would need to look no further than Lenny O’Brien to find its home.

His face sums up all of our feelings toward the admission still ringing around the room.

“I have nothing further to say. It’s time to vote,” Beast replies.

“What the fuck?” Mad Dog jumps to his feet, his seat tipping over as he does. It hits the floor with a loud smack. “You’re not gonna explain any of this? Offer a fucking apology for what you did to Lainey? Nothing?”

Pointing a huge, sausage-sized finger at Mad Dog, he says, “No, I’m not. When you gutted Wizard, you set into motion everything I’ve been working to avoid. What happens next is on your fucking head.” Turning toward me, he curls his top lip as he points at me next. “And yours, Timber. You two useless cunts have crushed this Club.”

Pushing out of his chair, he pulls off his cut.

Throwing it on the table, he walks toward the double doors that lead into his office and then out to the bar. “Vote all you want. Take my fucking patch. I don’t give a flying fuck anymore. There’s no way we can avoid the war the Mavericks are gonna bring down on our head now that Wizard’s dead. The Black Shamrocks are fucked. Gone. Walking dead men.”

The doors swing open as he barges through them.

Every head in the chapel turns to watch them swing open and shut repeatedly until they fall still, losing the momentum created by his exit.

We all regard each other, a million questions needing answers, yet the only person who can answer them has wiped his hands of the Club.

Left the room.

Fuck knows, he could’ve left the fucking Compound.

“We need to vote.” Lenny’s gravelly voice splinters the silence. “I’ll begin. I vote to support Mad Dog’s challenge. We’ll go around the table now.”

A chorus of “aye’s” meet Lenny’s repeated question as each brother answers him when asked. Not one brother votes for Beast to retain his presidency.

It takes a few minutes, but eventually only my father, Viking, Butch, Smoke, Mad Dog, and myself are left.

Butch answers in the affirmative; the toll it takes on him to vote against his former brother-in-law and life-long brother-in-arms written all over his strained face.

Smoke follows his father, answering quietly in the affirmative.

Our fathers shake their heads at each other, a silent conversation being held between them before Dad helps Viking to his feet.

“Conan? Viking?” Lenny questions as they head for the doors Beast left through in silence. “Your vote?”

“I follow the majority. It’s a dark day in hell for this Club, but I have no love for traitors. It’s an aye from me.” Dad doesn’t look at me, doesn’t even slow as he speaks. He only halts when Viking motions him to stop.

“Aye,” Viking wheezes, his frail chest lurching as he coughs, unable to speak further.

Mad Dog and I stare at each other, our reservations apparent in our expressions as our fathers make their way out of the Chapel. The vote needs to be unanimous for the motion to pass.

My gut’s telling me not to go ahead with the challenge.

That we need to revisit this once we know what Beast’s hiding.

“Timber?” Lenny asks. “Your vote?”

“Nay.”

“Fuck me. What are you playing at? This is your challenge.” Lenny shakes his head in disgust. He doesn’t understand why I’ve changed my mind. I can’t say that I understand it either, all I know for certain is that it was the right decision, the instant relief I feel proving it’s the right choice. “Mad Dog? What’s your fucking vote?”

“Nay. I vote no as well.”

The breath I was holding as I waited for Mad Dog’s answer leaves me in a rush.

Thank fuck, I read what he was trying to tell me correctly.

“You two assholes have a problem. You’ve just tipped this Club on its fucking head. Our President is a traitor, and the challenger and his second have voted to keep him. I’ve had fucking enough of this shit tonight.” Butch steps forward, crossing his arms over his chest.

Lenny stands next to him with an identical quizzical—and angry—look on his face.

The remainder of the Club stands behind them.

Taking in the faces of my brothers, I shrug at Mad Dog.

He can answer their questions. I have barely a clue what’s going on either, so he can fill me in at the same time.

Looking at the clock that hangs on the wall above the President’s seat, I see that it’s nearly midnight. It’s already been a long fucking day, and it’s not over yet.

Instead of getting to the bottom of things, all we’ve done is find more things to question.

“It’s only fucking temporary,” Mad Dog addresses everyone at once. “We need to find out what he’s hiding. He doesn’t get to just walk away from the fucking Club and leave us swinging. He owes us.”

He has the agreement of everyone present, the nodding heads making that apparent.

“I might’ve fucked up when I gutted that piece of shit, but he had it coming. Any of you would have done the same if it was your woman.”

Murmurs of assent greet his statement.

“Payback should’ve been delivered months ago. Not just for Lainey, but for Joel and the Club. The Mavericks fucked us over then and because they got away with it, they’re trying to fuck us over now. We have the body of their President in the bunker. We’ve got their fucking VP, and we’ve got Connor. We hold the cards, and we can get through this. We just need a plan.”

Running his hands through his hair, he closes his eyes, shutting us all out.

I know how he feels. My mind is running in a million different directions, trying to sort through everything we’ve learned during the last twelve hours.

There are still too many “what ifs”, “whys” and “how comes” to formulate a proper plan yet.

“We need Beast to talk. Willingly or otherwise.” My mouth is in gear before my brain catches up, the thought falling from my mouth as soon as it appears in my head.

Would I be able to use my favorite interrogation techniques on Beast if it meant we got the answers we need?

I’m not fucking sure.

“You’re right.” Mad Dog nods. “You’re fucking right. And I know just how to do it.”

“How?” The question is shot at him from all corners of the room.

I lift an eyebrow, letting him know that I don’t know if I’m down with what I just suggested.

“We let him stew on it tonight. Keep him out of the bunker. Keep someone on him at all times. Then tomorrow we hit him with the big guns. I’ll organize it tonight.”

“Fucking quit being so cryptic,” Butch demands. “What big guns?”

“Just wait ‘til tomorrow, brother. All will become clear.
Crystal fucking clear
.”

JJ

Present Day

“Y
ou’re here?” Lucas questions me after he bursts through the door of his room at the Clubhouse, startling me from my nap on his bed. Sitting up, I rub my eyes, trying to regain my sleep-addled wits. I didn’t mean to fall asleep, but I’m so tired. The last few days have been stressful, to say the least.

“I am. Is that okay?”

My decision to track down Maddi at the hospital had paid dividends when I’d found her sitting outside of Joel’s room by herself. She informed me that everyone, including Lucas, had left because Joel was refusing to see any of them. I’d swallowed my pride and asked for her help.

And with only a small amount of undisguised glee, she agreed.

Until we were interrupted by Smoke with orders to head back to the club with him
right fucking now
, Maddi had gifted me an insight into Lucas and his overreaction to my questions about Amy. I’d prodded, but she wouldn’t break his confidence and tell me exactly what happened between them, only that it had nearly broken Lucas and he hadn’t trusted another woman since.

Poor Mad Dog was in for a lecture for the small part he had already told since Maddi had been aghast when I’d told her what I already knew. A small twinge of sympathy had overcome me when I’d thought about him getting chewed out by her, coupled with amusement because I’ve decided that he might secretly get off on her bossiness.

“It’s not a problem. Just fucking surprised to see you.”

Hanging his leather vest—I need to start remembering to think of it as a cut—on a hook on the back of his door, he pulls his T-shirt over his head and yanks his hair out of the elastic band that’s holding it. His own lack of energy and tiredness is evident in each slow and precise movement he makes. Kicking his boots off, he undoes the top button of his jeans before heading to the bed.

Before I can doubt the idea I had before he returned, I scramble from the bed and grab his hand. Surprise and confusion duel for supremacy on his handsome face. He looks down at me with one eyebrow lifted and a small, inquisitive smile curling his lips.