At least we are not wasting time on bullshit.
Legend leans both hands on the table. “Old Kings chapter in Lonerock, Oregon. Years back, it was run by a biker called Smiley.”
“Who names these people?” I snap.
Oaks lifts a brow. “You’re called Derby.”
“Not now.”
Legend keeps going. “Smiley went MIA.”
“MIA?”
“Disappeared. Some say he ran. Some say Hot Mama killed him. Some say he deserved worse and she showed mercy by making it quick.”
I stare at him.
“Hot Mama took over,” Legend says.
I blink. “Took over what?”
“The chapter.”
“The Kings got a woman president?”
Legend’s mouth twitches, but there is no humor in it. “Anarchy is in the name.”
“That legal?”
“None of this is legal.”
Fair.
Still.
I look around the room like somebody is going to admit this is a joke. Nobody does.
“National allowed that?” I ask.
Legend’s face hardens. “National allows a lot when blood is involved. Hot Mama is Big Daddy’s half sister.”
That name lands different.
Big Daddy, national club president. A man with enough power to make chapters stand straighter just by calling. If Hot Mama is his blood, that explains why she still breathes after breaking every old rule men pretend came down from God instead of their own insecurity.
Legend continues, “When Hot Mama took over, men left. Couldn’t stomach taking orders from a woman. She patched women in their place. Wild Thing and Animal stayed.”
“Who?”
“Smiley’s old VP and enforcer. Depending on who’s telling it, she shacked up with both, one, neither, or they’re both too scared to clarify.”
Holler snorts. “I met Wild Thing once. Man looked like he’d fight a bear for fun and apologize to Hot Mama for getting fur on her porch.”
Oaks nods. “Animal’s worse.”
I rub a hand over my face.
This is insane.