The Blood of Brothers: A Sycamore Moon Novel (Sycamore Moon Series Book 2) Read Online Free Page A
Author: Domino Finn
onto the table and followed. The whole club was in attendance. Clint sat down on a couch next to Curtis and Trent. Omar did the same. Diego flipped the recliner around and made himself comfortable. West Wind chose to lean in the corner, towering over everybody except Gaston, the only other club member who could match his height. He was also standing.
Gaston was an imposing figure himself. A big man with a wide frame, his stocky features were considered handsome by many. His spiked fauxhawk, blond highlights, and abundance of earrings showed that he took great pride in his appearance, but it had surprised Diego to discover that the man cared more about the MC. Despite his hotheadedness and other faults, he was willing to sacrifice himself for his brothers, and none of them could ask for a better leader.
"West is right," started the president, addressing the entire MC. "This is an important meet. Business hasn't been too rough since I was voted in but we were bound to be tested. Maybe some other gang gets new leadership too. Wants to make an impression with their bosses and gets big ideas to cut us out as middlemen. We need to meet them in force and show them we're not backing down."
"Damn straight!" said Clint. "They need to go through us or don't go through Arizona."
Gaston nodded. "That's right. And you know how it is with these new gangbangers. They won't stop charging ahead until they slam straight into a wall. Well, they've never dealt with us. We need to show them that we are the wall around this state." Gaston hesitated and glanced at Diego as he spoke. "Now, our numbers are still a little low after last year. We need all hands on deck."
"You said this wasn't going to be a firefight," said Diego. From Gaston's tone, he was expecting things to go bad.
"It won't be—if we don't look weak. And act like pros."
"How many of them will show?" asked West from his corner.
"If they bring too many it will make them look scared."
"How many?" demanded West.
Gaston bit his lip. He didn't know the answer, but his message was clear: Diego was letting his brothers down by not going.
Chapter 3
Maxim observed the clubhouse door swing open as he stepped out of his car. The wooden structure was in a clearing of white grass in the wild forest. Technically outside Sanctuary's jurisdictional limits, the area was sprawling and unincorporated. Known as Sycamore to the locals, it didn't have any actual borders. It was more like a neighborhood, but one that spanned two counties and stretched into the desert, away from its namesake.
However, because of Santuary's proximity, Coconino County deputies ceded the handling of the motorcycle club to the marshal's office. It was a practical agreement for both departments, even when it proved impractical.
Gaston sauntered onto the deck. He wasn't ecstatic to see the detective. Maxim placed his white panama hat on his head and just shrugged as he approached. He brushed his suit jacket to make sure his gun was comfortably in place as he reached the step.
"This isn't the best time, Detective."
"That's what I said when I got a phone call at six in the morning." Maxim turned and examined the line of Harleys parked in the dirt. He noticed Diego's Triumph Scrambler in line as well, mostly because it was cleaner than the Harleys. "It looks like you have a full house." Maxim hopped up the two steps and peeked in the open door. There was a bustle of movement, as if the club was gearing up for something.
Gaston gritted his teeth. "That's exactly why this isn't a fucking good time."
Maxim feigned shock at the rude welcome. "I guess I'll show myself in then." The detective pushed past the big man, into the small foyer. A hallway stretched to the back alongside a staircase. To the right was the dining room, and to the left was the living room and den. Maxim had been inside this clubhouse once before, when he'd needed Gaston's help locating the previous president. Deborah had become a
Gaston was an imposing figure himself. A big man with a wide frame, his stocky features were considered handsome by many. His spiked fauxhawk, blond highlights, and abundance of earrings showed that he took great pride in his appearance, but it had surprised Diego to discover that the man cared more about the MC. Despite his hotheadedness and other faults, he was willing to sacrifice himself for his brothers, and none of them could ask for a better leader.
"West is right," started the president, addressing the entire MC. "This is an important meet. Business hasn't been too rough since I was voted in but we were bound to be tested. Maybe some other gang gets new leadership too. Wants to make an impression with their bosses and gets big ideas to cut us out as middlemen. We need to meet them in force and show them we're not backing down."
"Damn straight!" said Clint. "They need to go through us or don't go through Arizona."
Gaston nodded. "That's right. And you know how it is with these new gangbangers. They won't stop charging ahead until they slam straight into a wall. Well, they've never dealt with us. We need to show them that we are the wall around this state." Gaston hesitated and glanced at Diego as he spoke. "Now, our numbers are still a little low after last year. We need all hands on deck."
"You said this wasn't going to be a firefight," said Diego. From Gaston's tone, he was expecting things to go bad.
"It won't be—if we don't look weak. And act like pros."
"How many of them will show?" asked West from his corner.
"If they bring too many it will make them look scared."
"How many?" demanded West.
Gaston bit his lip. He didn't know the answer, but his message was clear: Diego was letting his brothers down by not going.
Chapter 3
Maxim observed the clubhouse door swing open as he stepped out of his car. The wooden structure was in a clearing of white grass in the wild forest. Technically outside Sanctuary's jurisdictional limits, the area was sprawling and unincorporated. Known as Sycamore to the locals, it didn't have any actual borders. It was more like a neighborhood, but one that spanned two counties and stretched into the desert, away from its namesake.
However, because of Santuary's proximity, Coconino County deputies ceded the handling of the motorcycle club to the marshal's office. It was a practical agreement for both departments, even when it proved impractical.
Gaston sauntered onto the deck. He wasn't ecstatic to see the detective. Maxim placed his white panama hat on his head and just shrugged as he approached. He brushed his suit jacket to make sure his gun was comfortably in place as he reached the step.
"This isn't the best time, Detective."
"That's what I said when I got a phone call at six in the morning." Maxim turned and examined the line of Harleys parked in the dirt. He noticed Diego's Triumph Scrambler in line as well, mostly because it was cleaner than the Harleys. "It looks like you have a full house." Maxim hopped up the two steps and peeked in the open door. There was a bustle of movement, as if the club was gearing up for something.
Gaston gritted his teeth. "That's exactly why this isn't a fucking good time."
Maxim feigned shock at the rude welcome. "I guess I'll show myself in then." The detective pushed past the big man, into the small foyer. A hallway stretched to the back alongside a staircase. To the right was the dining room, and to the left was the living room and den. Maxim had been inside this clubhouse once before, when he'd needed Gaston's help locating the previous president. Deborah had become a
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