But I have something else on my to-do list before stepping inside. I can’t, in good conscience, be around Grinder and not tell him. I wanted to do it together with Spenny, but that’ll have to wait.
I climb off the motorcycle, waiting patiently for Grinder to remove my helmet for me, and he playfully tweaks my nipples at the same time.
“Ready, Stabby?”
“Mmmhmm.” I nod and bite my lip, delaying the entrance to the shop briefly. “I have a gift for you.” Digging into my pocket, I pull out the little bag of teeth I collected and hold them in front of Grinder. “Sooo…I did a thing.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Grinder
“Your girl is killin’ it at the shop.”
I raise my chin at Shade, taking his words in and letting them fill my chest with pride. Parker’s been working at the new tattoo shop for almost three months now, and people are going nuts for her art. Of course, I never doubted her talent, I’m just happy that the whole of Rockford Beach is onboard, too.
“Not my girl. My dolphin.” I raise a brow to hammer my point in before taking a swig of my beer. We’re waiting for Hoops to start Church and for Psycho to get his lazy ass here.
“I’m not calling her a dolphin, that shit’s weird.” Shade leans back in his chair, shaking his head like he wants to be anywhere but involved in this conversation.
“It’s wank, Grinder. You’re basically saying my sister’s a fish.”
“Mammal, you degenerate. Bottlenosed dolphins are fucking mammals. Did y’all even go to school?” Just as I start laughing at this ridiculous conversation, Psycho walks in with Hoops hot on his heels. “And where the fuck have you been, dude? We’ve been waiting for like, twenty minutes.” There’s no venom in mytone but definitely a hint of irritation. After all, I can think of fifty things off the top of my head that I’d rather be doing with Parker and Spence right now instead of waiting around doing absolutely nothing for shits and giggles.
Although, ever since we had the talk about Parker killing the fireman, Spence has been a bit cagey, not to mention holed up at his apartment studying for his MCAT so he can go back to school for four years.
I get it, I do. Spencer feels guilty on some level. The guy was his colleague, and on the surface, seemed harmless. For Parker, however, it was about protecting what’s hers, and Doc is definitely ours. He’ll eventually come around, and when he does, we’ll make it up to him.
“Fuck off.” Psycho’s response is like an ice bucket on sunburnt skin. To be clear, banter in this club is the equivalent of oxygen. So much of the shit we do is soul crushing—for some—that talking shit alleviates the oppression of stress. Again, I’m lucky to not carry that burden. If we kill someone, it’s usually to protect the club and its members. Every single one…from the actual riders to the Khunts to the women who mother us better than anyone from our pasts. You fuck with us, we fuck right back. Except when we do, it’s permanent.
“Who pissed in your Wheaties?” I flick a bottle cap at him but he doesn’t even react.
On any given day, we’d be throwing insults at each other, one-upping until Hoops bangs the gavel for order. To say Psycho’s acting weird is a gross understatement and I don’t like it.
As he sits down, Bandit crawls out of his hoodie and goes around the table sniffing at everyone and nibbling on some carrots that Bear always keeps in a baggy, just in case. Something’s wrong with this picture but I just can’t put my finger on it.
“Not now, Grinder.” My head swivels to the left as my gaze collides with Hoops. Something’s happened and it’s not good.
“Is someone hurt? Who do I need to kill?” With my palms against the arm rests of my chair, I’m shifting my weight so I can stand and…do something, when Psycho takes the wind from my sails.
“It’s Ninja.” From the way he’s just choked out our mascot’s name, I brace myself for the worst. My chest feels tight and my pulse is hammering, anticipating his next words. “I don’t think he’s gonna make it.”
Silence falls in the room, a dark cloud that affects even Bandit, who’s now curled up in Bear’s hand chewing with very little enthusiasm.
We’ve had Ninja for so long, it’s hard to imagine this club without him.
“What happened? Is he sick?” Axel is the only one brave enough to break the silence.
“Nah, he’s old, man.” Psycho shrugs, then leans back in his chair, his eyes covered in a slight sheen. Fuck, if he cries, I cry. That’s a fact. “I mean, most ratties don’t live past four years so we got almost a year more out of him.” Rubbing his palms over his face like he’s trying to erase his urge to cry, Psycho gives himself a full-body shake then clears his throat.
“All right, Church in session.” Hoops bangs the gavel, clearly taking Psycho’s cue that this conversation is over before everyone starts bawling. “We’ve got a few things we need to touch on. First, we gotta make sure this stupid cult thing isn’t rebuilding. I’ve heard things around town these last couple of weeks and I’m not liking the intel.”
“Yeah, Stoney at the Surf Shack down at the beach said a couple of kids, no older than twenty, were making the rounds with flyers and shit. Looks sus to him, but then he thought it wasjust the shrooms.” Axle’s playing with his lighter, flipping it on and off as he speaks.
“Same for Maribel’s. A group of young men stopped by but she put an end to that shit real quick,” Bear adds, just as Bandit stretches then runs to Psycho, speeding up his arm and hiding in his hoodie.
“I say we blow up all of their houses in aDie Hardkinda way.” I make a motion with my hands like an explosion and mimic the sound for good measure. Just in case someone wasn’t following my train of thought.
Psycho chuckles and I mentally pat myself on the back for that feat.