Revved Up Soul

Chapter 41

Luke

Gabriel had reported that everything went smoothly on his end; even if things went less than ideal for Luke's convoy. There was a gnawing sensation in the pit of his stomach, the hot licks of anger rising through the whole of his person.

He'd waited long enough.

The convoy came to a stop outside the sequestered clubhouse, killing their engines and getting off of their bikes one by one. Several other motorcycles were already parked.

Looks like Gabriel's back already, Luke noted. His throat felt tight and hot when he eyed Robert's bike. He suddenly became very aware of Able's ring.

As the men started going inside, Allen was dragging behind the lot – so Luke went over to him and called out his name.

The beast of a man turned to face Luke, "Yeah?"

"There's something that we need to talk about," Luke's eyes were dire; his whole body felt fully alive with the seductive electricity of something primal within.

Allen screwed up his face, revealing the many hard lines of his face. "Don't leave me hangin' in suspense," he said. "If it's about the guns—"

"No," he interrupted, exhaling a hard breath – it wasn't easy to look the man in the eye. "It's about Able."

The President's face darkened, "Tell me some good news," he growled. If there was one thing about the man that Luke did admire, it was his gusto, his eagerness to deliver a vengeance unto those that killed his brother in arms, his right-hand man, and his godson. Inside, Luke could hear the rocking riffs from the Jukebox booming.

That made it so much harder to say the words, so much harder to broach the subject – Luke didn't want to believe it, but the only clue they had, the only thing that they've ever had to go on pointed to him. That was when Benny and Robert came outside.

Luke and Allen craned their heads to look at the men. Robert's face was badly bruised and he looked like trash. Benny was at his side, the look of surprise and awkwardness etched on the lines of his face.

Allen glanced back at Luke, and then back to Robert.

Breaking the silence, Benny said, "Uh, we've got a problem, Prez." No shit Sherlock.

Laughing dryly, Robert replied, "Yeah I'll fucking say," he elbowed Benny, pushing him over a half step, he then looked right at Luke and gestured with his head, "Luke here laid some god damn pipe on me, go on and weasel out of this you prick," Robert pulled back his lips and opened his mouth, two bottom teeth missing from his yellow set. His voice didn't sound quite right, like every word must have been painful to utter. Luke didn't internally deny his satisfaction at this.

Allen slowly turned back to Luke, the quiet storm beneath the veneer of his face. "Inside," he growled, "now!" You don't have anything to fear, he reminded, you were in the right. You were in the right . . . weren't you?

The four made their way into the clubhouse where the music was playing raucously and the drinks were coming hard and fast. It'd been fuller than Luke had seen it in months; there were even a couple of skeevy women that he didn't recognize. Prospects must be bringing them in.

Moving to the center of the room, Allen called out in a rough boom, "Alex, Gabriel, D.W, plant your asses in the War Room or I'll yank you by your goddamned short and curlies." He turned his head over to Benny, his voice a deathly susurrate, "you too. Don't you act like such a little bitch next time, you hear me?"

Benny's adam's apple bobbed and he shook his head.

One by one, the Knights seated themselves in their rightful places at the great round table, Gabriel shutting the door behind them and finding his chair last. He brushed back a strand of his hair and looked Luke dead in the eye; Luke's chest burned and his fingers dug hard into his chair, if he was going to have anyone on his side here – Gabriel would be his man. The table became alight with whispers and stares and judgements.