A/N This chapter is a bit shorter than the others but stay with me. Only about two (maybe three) chapters left on this one. I don't know for sure how a new charter would be created, its not a patch over after all, so I went with what I thought woudl be the most realistic. Hope it worked! Quick shout out to everyone who's read/favorited/followed/reviewed. I try to thank everyone personally but if I missed you I'm sorry but no less appreciative. With out further do, please read and review and enjoy chpt three.
The Redwood club house held a solom atmosphere. Whores sipped booze out in the main room with some members very few speaking. John's death still hung heavy in the air- just one more shit storm piled on top of the Mayan war. Every few seconds eyes would flick to the chapel door where all the Presidents and Vice Presidents sat discussing the future of the club. New York, Belfast, Tacoma, Tucson, Vegas, every fucking charter that could come was holed up in that room. Most of them had brought an extra man or two and those milled out in the main room with Redwood and whores. The charters that couldn't make it sent in their proxy votes the night before.
Quinn came in from the garage office and let his huge frame fall on to a barstool.
"Whiskey." He shot in the general direction of whatever prospect was sitting behind the bar. The prospect sensing the older members dark mood quickly poured the liquor into a glass without a word. Quinn gulped the drink down in one swallow. Normally he didn't drink anything stronger than beer- being drunk was a bit to much of a reminder of his strung out junky days but he'd just gotten off the phone with Mrs. Cobbs. Annie wasn't doing well. Doc said that might happen until the started the treatment in a few days and even after that she might feel like shit for a long time before she started to get better.
If she got better.
The damn voice in the back of his head just wouldn't shut the fuck up. He couldn't have another whiskey, he needed a clear head for the result of the vote going on. With out booze to cloud his mind he forced himself to think of something else other than Annie. He couldn't do shit for her or Lily right now so why bother thinking about it. Instead he forced his mind to better memories. One of those being last Monday night. Him and Megan went back to the same motel. He hadn't realized it until she was naked and underneath him how scared he was about Annie. He needed something to make him forget. So he began to pound into her expecting her to protest.
She didn't.
Instead she hooked one leg around him expertly and pushed his right hip with her body. Taking her hint he rolled to his back and looked up at her. She sat there for a moment straddling him, allowing her body to adjust to the new position, the new angle. She slowly raised her bent knees, letting him slide almost all the way out of her before slamming her hips back down against his. Rising back up she repeated the motion several times each time going faster and harder. Quinn had gripped her hips tightly and helped her ride him into oblivion.
"What's got you so angry?" She asked after they were both done.
"What?" Quinn asked confused.
"The only time a man fucks a woman like that is when he's angry." Megan explained. For a moment Quinn didn't say anything and she just rolled to her side, "Well wake me up in a bit and we can try again." They lay in silence for several minutes.
"My sister. She's real sick." Quinn said. Megan hadn't responded but to roll to face him. Not saying anything she put her hand to the side of his face and kissed him deeply.
"Wake me up when you're ready to go." She told him before falling asleep with her arm draped across his chest.
Two hours later he woke her up with his dick already between her legs. The next morning left both of them bruised a bit and more than tired.
Quinn was still smiling about the memory of the second round- Megan on her knee's between his legs sucking him off to the edge before climbing up and impaling herself on him- when the chapel doors burst open.
"Alright." Clay called out as he entered the main room, "Anyone who's not a patched member get the fuck out. We'll call you back in when its time to party." One by one the whores, hang arounds and prospects filed out into the parking lot- a few of the hang arounds dragged coolers of beer behind them. Clay watched them all leave. Once the door was closed Clay turned back to the room smiling "Boy's we got a nomad charter!"
A cheer went up among the gathered Son's. Clay waved his arms down to calm the noise.
"All that's left is filling it. All you brother's are here because you volunteered to go Nomad. To be called at a moments notice and go wherever the club needs. Feel the call of the road. I nominate Rane Quinn as president." Quinn's head popped up shocked. He knew Clay wanted him in the charter never imagined that Clay would nominate him as president. In Nomade charters the president was the only officer, his word was law. Who took what jobs, who got in. Quinn couldn't think of a single thing that would qualify him for that position but apparently Clay trusted him with that.
"Second." A New Mexico member named Go-Go shouted.
"All in favor?" Clay called out. Before Quinn had a chance to say anything a loud chorus of "aye's" rang out in the room.
"Aye's have it!" Clay yelled happily. "Now lets get the booze flowing we're having a party!" The national president walked over to slap Quinn on the back before pulling him into a hug.
"Shit's still crazy, I need a brother I can trust in that seat." Clay whispered to Quinn as the national president embraced him. Quinn nodded his understanding and slapped his brothers back soundly before letting go to be congratulated by the others. The people waiting outside filed back in, someone went the tape player in the corner and popped in a tape from the large, cluttered stack. Soon Metallica blared from the speakers and the booze flowed freely. Quinn nursed a beer while taking the congratulations from his brothers. Once he been pounded on the back for the hundredth time, or so it seemed, he went to go find Clay.
"Brother, I don't know what to say." He said sitting down next to Clay and Johns Old Lady Gemma. She hadn't been seen much lately, not since John's death. Quinn knew Clay stopped by regularly to check on her and he figured something was going on between them, wasn't any of his business either way. People all dealt with grief differently. When Quinn had asked a couple of questions about the possibility of Mayan involvement in John's death Clay all but took his head off right than and there. Suggested he get on the road for awhile and clear his head.
"Don't say anything. Wouldn't trust another man in that spot. Most the guys will stay with their current charters unless we need them. You going to your sisters?" Clay asked.
"Yeah, heading out there tomorrow. You got her number?" Quinn asked. Part of him wanted to stay in the clubhouse and just forget everything for the next few days but the new presidents patch weighed heavy on his chest. He would go wherever and whenever he was called to go, he needed to help his sister as much as possible while he could.
"Yep. Let us know if you need anything and check in every night." Clay told him. "You sticking around for the party?"
"For a bit. Gotta be on the road early tomorrow. It's a thirty-five hour ride to get there. I wanna do it in about four days." Quinn told Clay.
"What route you plan on taking?" Clay asked.
"I-40. Don't want any troubles with the Mayans figure I should stick north if possible." Quinn replied raising his beer to take another drink.
"Ride with out colors. We need you whole." Clay told the giant man clapping him on the back. "Enjoy yourself tonight. You deserve it. Find some pussy and get laid."
"Yes sir. Be back, need another beer." Quinn said pushing himself up from the seat. Speaking of pussy he thought, Baton Rouge isn't all that far from Mobile. If he pushed hard Saturday and Sunday he'd get to Baton Rouge Monday evening. One night in Baton Rouge would let him rest up and he could make the last three-hour push on Tuesday morning. He knew the only reason he wanted to stop there was because of the very real chance he'd be fucking Megan again but he let himself believe that it was just good riding sense. After all the first time he stopped there he didn't even know the bitch existed.
While Quinn traveled though his thoughts at the bar Gemma came over and draped her arm around Clay's shoulders.
"Do you think he bought it?" Gemma asked her lover.
"Yeah. Besides he'll be so busy with his sister he wont bother to think about John anymore." Clay asked.
"Good. Last thing we need is anyone poking in to John's death." Gemma said as her eyes swept across the crowded room, her sharp gaze taking in everything.
"Still not sure if this is needed. He only asked if John could have been attacked by the Mayans." Clay said taking a pull of his beer.
"Say he starts asking those questions around others. Around Piney. Eventually someone would put the pieces together. Lowell running out day's before John died, someone starts asking questions someone else put the pieces together." Gemma said calmly even though it seemed to her they had this discussion more and more often. "This club needs a Nomad charter anyway, might as well kill two birds with one stone."
"Yeah you're right. Best for the club and best for him." Clay said reassured. "Lets enjoy this party baby." He subtly squeezed Gemma's ass.
"Later baby. I gotta go play the grieving widow." Gemma walked away toward Tig and Chibs. The newest SAMCROW member turned to the blonde crow eater hanging on his arm. His scars stood out in stark relief against his skin- newly tanned from the California sun. Clay watched as his woman touched Tig's arm gently looking at him her face tinged with just the right amount of sadness for a newly widowed single mother. Looking at her you'd never know she plotted her husbands murder with nothing more than an eye blink. There was a reason Clay loved that woman. She'd go as far as any patched member for the club she saw as her son's birthright. Clay knew she'd do anything to ensure the survival of that birthright and he loved her for it. The 30 year old queen had a ruthless streak to match his own.
Saturday morning Quinn woke at dawn kicking the redheaded sweetbutt out of his bed at the clubhouse. His bikes saddlebags were already packed with a few changes of cloths for the road along with his gun, his secondary he tucked snuggly into the waist band of his jeans after checking to making sure the safety was on. He wouldn't be much good to anyone if he blew his ass cheeks off by mistake. He grabbed his kutte off of the back of his chair and carefully folded it into his saddlebag. Clay was right, still was too dangerous to ride alone with colors on. By the time the sun began to crest the black top his bike had already started putting the miles behind him.
Two days later he was pushing open the door of Heartlands for the third time. He glanced at the bar and saw Megan working in her usual attire- tight ass jeans and tank top stretched across her rack. God he couldn't wait to bury his face between those. She glanced up toward the door just as she did every time she heard the door open. Looking at him she smiled and held up one finger- the universal sign to wait. Quinn glanced around the bar- unusually crowded for a Monday night. He vaguely remembered seeing a sign for some rodeo show passing through town. Looking around he saw most the men had cowboy hats either on their heads or sitting next to them. The same male bartender from his first night was working again tonight and he saw extra girls working the floor. He sat down at the edge of the bar to wait. Five minutes later she came up to him a Double Diamonds already in her hand.
"Seem to be passing though often now don't you." She remarked to him as she smoothly popped his beer open and set it in front of him.
"Going to be a regular thing. Help take care of my sister and all." He answered.
"I think I can live with that." Megan said smiling.
"Same place?" Quinn asked raising his eyebrows.
"Sure. I'll be over round one or so. We're staying open a bit late on account of all the extra business we have tonight what with the rodeo in town."
"Alright I'll let the front desk know, room'll be under Rane Quinn." He told her.
"You planning on sticking around here for awhile?" Megan asked gesturing to the bar around her.
"You getting on that stage again?" Quinn shot back.
"Not tonight." Megan answered, "But I might be persuaded to do a private show later tonight."
"Promise?" Quinn asked with a smirk.
"If the offer is high enough." Megan told him over her shoulder as she walked down the bar to take care of a very impatient cowboy.
A few hours later Megan pulled her little car into the parking lot of the Super Eight.
"Hi I'm looking for Rane Quinn's room." She said to the desk clerk. Her feet hurt and she could feel the beginnings of a headache building behind her eyes. Still she showed up. She liked Quinn. Not only was he great in bed but they had great conversations during breakfast also. She always said if a man can't hold your attention at the dinner table he wont be able to hold it in bed. Luckily (so far) she hadn't had any problems keeping her attention on Quinn in both cases.
"Room two twenty seven," The same pimpled face, board desk clerk replied.
"Thanks." Megan said. She could feel her step picking up on the way to the room. Great sex seemed like the perfect cure for her aches and pains. She knocked confidently on the door the sound of a TV faintly coming from the other side.
Quinn opened the door wearing just his jeans slung low on his hips. He'd already stashed his gun in the bedside drawer next to the cheap hotel bible. The irony of the book that was supposed to save him next to the weapon that he would use to take a life if the need arose didn't escape him.
"Where's my strip tease?" He asked as she walked into the room.
"What do I get in return?" She teased him.
He grabbed her by the waist lifting her up before pushing her back against the wall, his dick semi-erect pressing into her jean clad pussy.
"This." He told her.
"I think that's a fair trade." She told him leaning her head down to kiss him, her crossed legs behind his back pulling him closer.
"Thought so." His voice rumbled around her lips while his hands explored her ass. Quinn hadn't been with the same woman more than once or twice in a long time. He found he enjoyed the growing knowledge of exactly what made Megan scream and writhe in pleasure underneath him. Even though they were just in a cheap motel and piss poor quality sheets it felt damn good. The next day they had breakfast as usual at the dinner before he pulled back out onto the highway, speeding toward his sisters. Long as the club didn't need him he'd be able to stay in Mobile for awhile and hey Baton Rouge was only three hours away.