Glory (35 page)

You lived or died for that ride. Like me, Hanna was in it for the rest of her life.

There was truth to Hastie’s words when he said he didn’t know if he could ever walk away from Glory MC. I could understand that feeling now. The club had become a family where the brothers lived and died for each other. And the women were their only other loves next to the club and their bikes.

After Hanna and Knuckle sealed their vows with a kiss, they strode together for the first time, bounded by hearts through the row of motorcycles. This time the roaring of every engine greeted them as the guests saluted the newly married couple. It was deafening. With the cheers and engines, you would have thought the world was ending. But for Hanna and Knuckle, this was only the beginning.

As the ceremony concluded, the real party started as dusk rolled in. A classic hog roast brought in the guests. Alcohol flowed and a rock band was the main source of entertainment. When we finally got a chance to greet the married couple, Hanna had a big smile on her face. “Oh my God, my feet are about to fall off!”

“But you look amazing!”

“Thanks, darling. I bet Hastie needs a break from beating all the dogs off you with a stick. You’re looking hot tonight!”

Hastie grinned. “You’d think they’d know to keep their paws off, but . . .” he trailed off, shaking his head before shooting a glare at a prospect who was watching us. Angel’s eyes grew wide when he realized he’d been caught staring and scurried away. When Hastie turned back to us, the charm had returned. “Congratulations, by the way,” he said as Hanna embraced him.

“Thank you. Oh, and by the way, your father wants to see you.”

Hastie lifted a brow. “Now? On his wedding night?”

“It’s your lucky night, too.” She flashed a smile and then was swept away by other guests, leaving Hastie in confusion.

He turned to me expectantly. “What the hell does that mean?”

“Don’t look at me. He’s your father.”

Right on cue, Knuckle’s voice boomed through the music. “Church meeting, son!”

“
Now?”

“Yeah.
Now.
Hurry the fuck up,” he called over his shoulder. “Oh, and tell the others.”

Hastie drew a hand through his dark hair. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Then he turned to me. “Sorry, babe. I’ve gotta go.” Dimples appeared with his grin. “I promise I won’t make it a habit of leaving you at club events.”

I laughed, remembering the time at Lucky’s hog roast. “It’s fine. Go.”

“I love you, babe.”

“Love you.”

“Please say no to any sexual advances you get while I’m gone.”

I grinned mischievously. “No promises.” With a wink, I turned away from him, heading straight for the punch bowl. Behind me, I heard Hastie’s growl.

Hastie

A makeshift meeting room was made between two fire cans as far from the partying as possible. “What the hell is going on?” I asked as Knuckle approached.

“Can we hurry this up?” Lucky called out. “I’ve got a hot piece of ass waiting for me.”

“Shut up, playboy,” Kitt said as he puffed on a cigar. “No one wants to hear about your conquests.”

“Jealous?” he shot back.

“Jesus Christ,” Knuckle cut in, annoyed. “Do we have to do this every time?”

“Do what?” Kitt and Lucky asked in unison.

“Never mind.” His eyes lifted to me. “It’s time that we addressed some outstanding Glory biz.”

“What else is there to do? We took down Cavezza. Unless the Phantoms choose to retaliate, we’re good.”

He approached me and hung his arm off my shoulder. “There’s one more thing. We need to appoint a new vice-prez.”

With all the shit that had been happening with Brennan, the Phantoms, and the wedding, we still hadn’t picked someone to take Newt’s place. I think in a way everyone was a little reluctant to see him replaced since it meant that he was never coming back. It made his death feel more real. For a lot of us, grief still hovered like a thundercloud. “We’re voting
now
?” I asked.

“You got a better time to do this? We’ve waited long enough.”

True. Normally, a new vice-prez would have been chosen immediately. We couldn’t leave a hole like that in our hierarchy. It would only lead to leaks and trouble in our future. “So who’s going to be the lucky man?” Lucky asked, impatience riding him.

Knuckle slid his eyes to me, his proud smirk telling me all that we needed to know. “What about you?” he suggested.

“Me?”

“Yeah. Why not?”

I scanned my brothers and, one by one, they nodded in support of this idea.

“Wait, wait,” I called out, arms outstretched. “Am I really who you want as vice-prez? Why not Beck?” Though he wasn’t an Original, Beck had been in Glory MC longer than I had.

The sergeant at arms shook his head. “You’re made for that position, brother. Besides,” he said as he took another draw from his joint. “You’re heir apparent.”

“Who replaces me as sec and trez then?” When Knuckle pointed a finger at Lucky, I gaped.
“Him?”
Sorry, but that was the last person I’d expect to get the role. Lucky had memory worse than an amnesiac.

“Hey.” Lucky sounded downright offended. “I’d like to think that I’m a great candidate for that position, okay?”

Kitt barked out a laugh. “No offense, brother, but are you sure you can handle all the responsibilities? It’s a lot of paperwork and record-keeping. I don’t doubt that you can collect any debts owed to the club though, you’ve been a great prospect, but this is a lot of work.”

Lucky waved a dismissive hand. “Got this shit covered. Don’t worry about it.”

Skeptical looks were flashed my way. “Look,” Knuckle walked to Lucky’s side. “He’s shown that he’s willing to lay his life on the line. I don’t mind putting him in as secretary and treasurer. Glory’s dwindling and with the recent hits, we’re going to need to look into recruiting.”

It was words that nobody wanted to hear in the club. Glory MC was about love and loyalty. Newt was the one who had taught us that your place in the club was earned. There was no doubt that Lucky had proven himself recently, earning Flash to protect Newt the day he died. It was just surprising that he was being promoted so quickly through the ranks. No one had ever risen through the ranks this quickly in Glory MC’s history. Then again, the flares had changed how we did things in the club.

Then there was me. Vice-prez. Could I do this? Did I
want
to do this? It had always been a possibility in the back of my mind, but I never would have guessed that it would happen so soon. I was nowhere near ready. And with the world as it was, I knew trouble would find its way back to us soon. But Newt’s memory rose like smoke. The club needed someone to take over. And I would never be the one to turn away from them. “Fine, I’ll do it.”

Knuckle eyed me warily. “You don’t sound too happy about it.”

I just had to get used to the idea, that was all. The position came with a lot of responsibilities, ones I wasn’t sure I was ready to take on. With more sincerity, I said, “I’d be honored to be vice-prez of Glory MC.”

Knuckle grinned widely. “Anyone opposed to this?” There was no argument from the others. Just hopeful faces. Grinning, Knuckle slapped me on the back. “Congratulations, boy.”

I couldn’t fight the grin that lifted my face. Just like that, I was vice-prez. I looked over to Lucky as Knuckle spoke. “Anyone opposed to this fool being sec and trez?”

Kitt and Beck signaled their refusal.

“Oh, come on,” Lucky yelled, clearly distressed. But the two sergeant at arms laughed, letting Knuckle know that they were actually joking.

“He’s good,” Kitt said on a laugh.

“Yeah,” Beck agreed. “Let the guy prove that he’s not such a worthless dumbass.”

“Fuck yeah!” Lucky called out, doing several variations of celebratory hand gestures. A few of them even looked like gang signs.

Jesus.
“Fucker’s wasted,” I muttered as I shook my head.

Knuckle grinned. “And I will be too now that we’ve settled all this. It’s my wedding night, after all. Congratulations,” he said again before patting me on the back.

“Congratulations to you, too.”

Indy

“Wow.” I shoved another forkful of cake into my mouth. “This is the shit.”

Hanna’s wedding cake was an elaborate display of skulls piled on top of each other, covered in blood-red roses. A black banner spanned the bottom, spelling out Hanna + Knuckle in elegant script. Not bad for a post-flare wedding. Seven had really out done herself. Cake was usually hard to come by but this tasted like absolute paradise.

“Here, have some champagne.” I took the glass Hanna offered and sipped.

“Shouldn’t you be mingling with your guests instead of serving drinks? This is your wedding after all.”

Hanna laughed, embarrassed. “I guess I’m just not used to it, you know? I still can’t believe this will be my life.”

The last time I was at a club event, it had been an eye-opener. As the doe-eyed innocent who jerked and flinched at anything anyone said or did, it was easy to be shocked by it.

For too long I was locked in a cage of my own making, never allowing myself to venture too far. I allowed my disorder to be the excuse I used when something went wrong and a lot of my social life had faltered because of that. It was my fault that I never allowed anyone in until Hastie came along. Although it didn’t equate to getting rid of my disorder, this sinful biker had showed me that my disorder didn’t have to conquer my life if I didn’t let it.

I would still have the running thoughts and speak too quickly for others to understand me sometimes. And I would most definitely have some bad days. But despite it all, I learned that there was still hope out there.

The chaos that surrounded Glory MC and the motorcycle lifestyle mirrored my mind. Hanna had almost dropped it all and shut the door on Glory MC and their lifestyle. But after further deliberation, she decided to stay. She knew before getting involved just how dark it could be, how manipulating it was once you became a part of it. To survive this world, you also had to play by their rules. Or, in this case, to do whatever it took to survive.

Unlike Hanna, I didn’t have an option. My mind was a trap and if I let it, it would hold me hostage forever. But now I was realizing that life didn’t have to be one big hole of darkness.

“You’ve got a man who loves you,” I told Hanna, realizing that it made a world of difference. “Knuckle is going to take care of you.”

A smile lifted her entire face, the bliss of a newlywed showing through. “Thank you for coming,” she said. “It’s really too bad they wouldn’t wear tuxes. That would have been a sight, wouldn’t it?”

Hastie in a tux? That might be too much for the women of the world to handle. “I’d rather that we keep the admirers away and have them to ourselves.”

Hanna nodded. “Oh, good plan.” Pushing off the table, she moved towards her husband. I watched, feeling like a voyeur as Knuckle wrapped his arms around his wife and leaned down to kiss her.

Knuckle still scared the shit out of me every now and then, but I realized that he wasn’t the cold-blooded bastard that I made him out to be. With him around, Glory MC would remain safe.

A slow buzz hummed through my body. As I brought the glass in my hand to my lips again, I saw Hastie approaching, his eyes focused on the drink I held. “What the hell is that?” he asked when he finally reached me.

“Champagne. Want some?”

He grimaced. “No, thanks. Where the hell is the hard liquor around here?” Seconds later, the prospect who was eyeing us earlier approached with a bottle. He was gorgeous with watchful eyes and golden, bronzed skin. “You keep looking at Indy. Do you like her?”

I stiffened.
Uh oh. Was Hastie’s possessiveness rising again?

Angel’s eyes grew wide-eyed but he nodded. “She’s pretty.”

“Yeah, she is,” Hastie said as he wrapped an arm around me. “But you’ll find your own woman one day.”

I watched as the prospect’s cheeks reddened before he disappeared like a ghost. “Jesus. Did you have to scare him like that?” The poor guy looked like he was facing the grim reaper himself.

Hastie lifted those broad shoulders in a shrug and focused his attentions on opening the bottle in his hands. “I thought I was being nice.” Nice? He looked ready to throttle Angel. It was a good thing Angel had walked away when he had. At least I didn’t have to do damage control again. Hastie took a swig and I watched as his throat worked.

“Whoa, slow down there. I’m not riding home with you.”

He grinned, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Got a lot to celebrate.”

“Celebrate what?”

“Me making vice-prez.”

“
What?
No fucking way!” I couldn’t contain my happiness for him. “I’m so proud of you!” I pulled him in for a hug, scattering kisses all along his jaw.

“I’m proud of you, too.”

I frowned. “For what?” Nothing could be better than making vice-prez.

“You know.”

For letting him in? For facing my fears? My gaze scanned the partying crowd. “Do you think they care that I’m crazy? Do you think it bothers them?”

Hastie brought up his hand to swipe a lock of my hair that flew into my face. “You’d be surprised by how damaged a lot of the members of Glory MC are. They’ve got no room to judge. Same as me. I don’t look at you differently because I know you have a mood disorder. I’m just more aware. It just helps me understand you better.”

I couldn’t help but feel warmed by his words. They brought hope. Damn, how the hell did I get so lucky to land a guy like him? “You deserve better. Someone who isn’t broken. You deserve the whole deal.”

A lethal smile spread over Hastie’s lips, making me wonder what was so amusing about my words. “Still pushing me away, baby? I thought we were past this.”

“I’m not.” I winced even as I realized that I was. Like Hanna, I had to get used to the idea of having someone to lean on.

“You don’t get to choose which parts of you you’ll give me. If you give me your heart, I’m taking everything that comes with it. Even the little broken, fragmented pieces of you because together, they make a whole and I want all of you or nothing at all.”