Dessert had appeared after dinner. The hall had quieted somewhat and Gideon was scraping crumbs of cake off his plate with his fork when Brand stood up.
Brand picked up a gavel and hit the table with it once. “This weekly meeting of the Heaven’s Heathens is hereby called to order. In old business,” he said and started talking about how one family had requested a loan from the Club fund to roof their house and had been approved. There were a few other announcements, reminders of upcoming birthdays, signup sheets posted for events and whether or not there were any mandatory runs in the immediate future. Gideon listened with half an ear, not understanding all of it and Brand went on about things the officers had decided upon in church, their Tuesday meeting. Brand shifted his papers. “Is there any new business from the Club?” he asked.
People looked around and there was silence.
“All right, as always, any of the officers are available at any time in private to make requests,” Brand said. “In new business.” He reached down and picked up a vest. He set on the table next to him. “Gideon Vonrothe from the country of New York has requested to prospect into the Club. And I know everybody has been talking about him.”
Heads turned to find him, his presence had been noted and he was the one adult person there not wearing a vest. The whispers and grins started. Gideon’s eyes widened and he sank down into his seat.
Brand continued. “The officers have considered his request and have approved it. Gideon, would you please come up front?”
Kirby slapped him on the back. Gideon slowly got to his feet and debated in heading the opposite direction and out the door, but this is what he had professed to want. He kept his head down and went up front. Brand came around the table to meet him. He held up the vest and turned it around. “This vest will mark you as wanting to be one of us. When you have completed your prospective period and have earned the colors of the Club in the eyes of all our members, you will become a true Heaven’s Heathen.”
Gideon met Brand’s eyes briefly and looked down at his shoes. He nodded. “Thank you for giving me a chance.”
“Turn around,” Brand said and then helped Gideon into the vest. He came back around and hugged him. “Welcome to the Heathens,” he said.
Cheers erupted from the crowd.
Gideon hugged him back awkwardly and Brand let him go. Gideon eyed him. “You aren’t going to kiss me again, are you?” he asked quietly.
Brand grinned. “Do you want me to?”
No. Gideon thought. “I don’t want to answer that question honestly,” he said instead.
Brand put an arm around him. Yeah, he’d been correct. Gideon had not been raised a werewolf. They’d have to work on fixing that. “We’ll let Savannah kiss on you then.”
Gideon’s brow furrowed. Savannah, “Who?” he asked.
Brand didn’t answer. Esme came around the table and hugged him. “Welcome to our family, baby,” she said. She kissed his cheek.
Gideon hugged her back. His throat closed up a little. He hadn’t expected to be welcomed quite so warmly for being a complete stranger. “Thanks,” he managed and he hoped he was right.
Another big man came around and hugged him. Gideon didn’t know who he was. And after that it was a stream of faces and hugs and hand shaking and little kids grabbing onto his legs. Padre blessed him, and a few of the younger girls had been a little too enthusiastic about greeting him. Kirby had come up last and hugged him, then patted his arm and made Gideon escort him back to his seat.
Brand held up a hand. “I motion we party!”
A cheer rose from the gathering.
“Motion seconded!” somebody yelled.
“Meeting adjourned!” Brand bellowed.
There was another cheer and Gideon couldn’t believe his eyes as more food came out of the kitchen, and people got up and started moving out the door towards the bar or back to the buffet. Music started in the bar, something with a lot of guitar riffs and drums. Gideon wasn’t sure which way to go.
Kirby didn’t make a move to sit down. He led Gideon out into the bar and over to a stool set up in a dimly lit corner. He patted Gideon’s arm and sat down. “There, the hard part is beginning,” he said.
Gideon looked at him. That didn’t sound like it boded well.
Kirby waved a hand. “Go on. Meet people. I’m fine right in my corner.” He patted the bar.
The guy behind the counter came over and pushed a small shot of whisky in front of the old man. Gideon remembered him. He was the curly haired guy with the goatee from earlier. The one who had told him where Brand was. The old man picked up the shot, took a sip and smacked his lips. “Mum, mm, mm, mm, mm,” he said.
Gideon looked away to try and hide a grin. He met the bartender’s eyes and dropped his eyes deliberately. He was the new guy, lowest of the low here. He held out his hand. “Gideon,” he said.
“Dana,” the guy responded and they shook. “You might want to pay attention to how it’s done. You’ll probably end up doing a lot of this after tonight.”
Gideon glanced up and down the bar. He’d never been on the opposite side of one. His mother would have a fit. His mother wasn’t here and he wanted to fit in with these people. “Could be interesting,” he said. “I don’t know anything about it.”
Dana grinned. “What can I get you?”
Gideon leaned against the bar and looked at the stock racks. It looked like they had a bit of everything. “Bourbon,” he said.
Dana eyed him. “Right for the good stuff,” he muttered. “Not a beer drinker?”
Gideon shrugged. “Never saw the point.”
Dana snickered and nodded. He poured Gideon a couple of fingers of bourbon in a cut glass and pushed it across the bar. “Stock is bought out of the Club fund, everything’s paid for,” he said.
Gideon nodded again. “Good to know.”
“All right, I have to get busy. See you around, Prospect.” Dana held out his hand again and they shook again. Gideon retreated from the bar and looked around. He couldn’t tell if the company had grown or not. He couldn’t drift towards anyone he knew, because he didn’t know anybody, not on a personal level at least. The couches filled and then the floor filled until it was standing room only. Gideon worked his way through the crowd. At least now that he wore a vest like everyone else, he didn’t stand out as much. He decided to walk around a bit, mingle, try to get and remember names if anyone said anything to him, maybe get more dessert, listen to the music.
He got three feet before an arm wrapped around his shoulder. “You!” the guy said. “I recognize you!” The guy thumped him on the back. “You made me money! Where did you learn all that?”
Gideon looked over at him. The guy was like a bear, tall, with a bushy brown beard and eyes that sank into his face.
Another man stepped forward. He looked like the other man, but his beard was trimmed shorter. “The over exuberant one is my brother, Sasha.” He held out his hand. “I’m Misha.”
Gideon took his hand and was pulled away from Sasha into a hug. Gideon stumbled back and checked his drink. “Gideon,” he said.
“Congratulations on the kutte,” Misha grinned. “I knew they’d let you in.”
“I asked a question,” Sasha interrupted.
Gideon took a sip of the bourbon and glanced at him. “Special Forces. If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”
Sasha grinned huge behind his beard. “If I’d known, I would have bet more.”
“Military.” Misha shook his head. “No wonder Brand pounced.”
Gideon looked at the two of them. Brand had pounced. What did they know that he didn’t? Okay quite a lot apparently, they were members of the Club. He didn’t remember seeing anyone like them at the dinner. “Were you two at the—” he gestured towards the meeting hall.
Misha shook his head. “Nope. But there was sure to be a party.”
“Always a party,” Sasha nodded. He narrowed his eyes. “I won’t underestimate you again,” he said.
“Don’t overestimate me.” Gideon grinned. “I wouldn’t want you to lose money.”
Sasha laughed and hit him on the back. He turned around and walked away.
Gideon looked after him and then at Misha. “You have a lot of prospects?” he asked.
“Usually, the pups. The last out of country prospect we had was Eberron and his pack had an alliance.”
“I don’t think I’ve met him.”
“Oh, you will.” Misha nodded. “He’s busy tonight though. He was pressed into fixing the transport.”
“Big hangar?” Gideon asked.
“That’s the one.” Misha slapped him on the back. “Come, meet my wife. She’s curious.”
“Everybody’s curious,” Gideon replied.
“The perils of being new.” Misha nodded and they worked through the crowd. They didn’t make it to his wife before being stopped again. Gideon braced himself for another hug. He hoped no one else tried to kiss him.
---
The noise could be heard all the way across the parking lot, rising and falling as the door opened and closed. Frankie leaned in the doorway and watched. She wasn’t a mechanic and barely knew what the different tools were.
Savannah came up behind her wiping down one of the wrenches with a rag. She stopped next to Frankie. “Wonder what the weekly excuse is this time,” she said and tilted her head.
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“Must be nice.” Frankie sighed and turned around leaning against the door. It was always this way after potlatch. The Club would fasten onto an excuse for a party and every member knew it. People came and people left. Sometimes it gravitated to ‘their’ bar in town instead. It wouldn’t wind down until at least midnight. People, music, drinking, dancing, Frankie shifted on her feet.
Savannah looked over at her and smiled. “You can still go over there.”
Frankie shook her head. “Nah. Doesn’t feel right.” Savannah and Skyler were stuck here, and Spike had other plans tonight. Frankie wasn’t sure what those plans were because Spike could be secretive, but Frankie hoped they involved a boy. Love was nice.
Savannah wiped the wrench more though it no longer really needed it. She glanced at Frankie and changed the subject. “You’ve told Georgie about the mission.” They were going to be gone more than twenty-four hours between travel time and more travel time. They wouldn’t be able to land too close to where they’d taken the guy hostage. There would be a slog through the jungle to deal with.
Frankie frowned. “Not yet.” She bit the inside of her lip and looked over the parking lot again. She put her hands behind her back and rocked back and forth. “I’m planning on it.”
Savannah let the lie slide past. She wasn’t going to insert herself into Frankie and Georgie’s problems. She needed Frankie focused for the mission and not angry because her boyfriend decided to pick a fight with her about her job again. Savannah nodded. “It shouldn’t be that bad of a run, snag and drag.”
Frankie nodded. Georgie would still worry. She looked over at Savannah. “I’ll go ask if they can pipe the music over here and we can have a mini party of our own.” She raised her voice. “You guys want anything?”
“Coffee!” Eberron shouted. “Lots and lots of coffee.”
“No alcohol,” Savannah said in a low voice.
Frankie widened her eyes. “No. None of that,” she said. “Not if we’re going to risk our lives on that thing.” She wrinkled her nose. “I’ll get desserts too.” She leaned over and kissed Savannah quickly on the lips. She’d order Savannah hot cocoa. She knew that Savannah never touched coffee.
Savannah winked at her.
Frankie dashed across the parking lot and into the clubhouse, bouncing as she reached the door. Savannah turned around and headed deeper into the hanger. A few seconds later, music blared through the sound system. She grinned and bounced her head up and down.
“All right!” Quinn shouted.
Skyler’s foot bounced up and down and Savannah worked her way back under the transport again. It was going to be a long night, and snacks and music would make it go a whole lot faster.
---
Word had spread quickly through the Club members at the party that Gideon was former military and had Special Forces training. They kept it from Gideon. It felt like an unspoken pact had been made between them with a few significant glances and nods that they were to keep him away from Ashley, their new sergeant-at-arms, due to her rules-lawyering tendencies. Until they at least figured out how much Gideon played by the rules and they got him straightened out into a proper Heaven’s Heathens frame of mind. Gideon wandered in what he thought was an aimless pattern around the bar area and back into the dining hall for more dessert. He was subtly and sometimes not subtly being directed away from the red headed sergeant.
A rumble of engine noise alerted Gideon to the fact there was more of a party going on outside. Curious, he ducked out the door to see what was going on. The front area of the club and the parking lot had been lit up with flood lights. He smelled a fire and it took him a few moments to find the large bonfire among the people. There were fires in barbeque ranges though he didn’t smell anything cooking on them.
Lined up near the gate of the club were four motorcycles. They were facing away from the gate and towards the inside of the Club compound. Their riders twisted their wrists to rev the engines. The holographic lights of the hovers brightened and flickered. The riders stared each other down.
Someone brushed Gideon and he moved out of the way of the door without taking his eyes off the riders. At least one of them was a woman and none were wearing helmets, though they all wore the vest of the Club. The woman was chewing on something. She wore amber tinted sunglasses. One of the men smoked a cigarette.
A petite girl in the Club vest and a mini-skirt strutted over in front of the motorcycles. She waved a thick wad of money in one hand. Those watching hooted and hollered.
Gideon leaned against the wall of the clubhouse and watched with wide eyes. The girl reached around to the back of her mini-skirt and pulled out a maroon and black handkerchief. She tucked the money inside her vest and raised the handkerchief. The rev of the motorcycle engines got louder.
Gideon glanced down in the direction the motorcycles were going and in the distance he saw a flare.
The girl lowered the handkerchief, going down on one knee and twisting to point down the track. The motorcycles exploded into action, one of them going up onto their back hover. They charged down the cleared area, jockeying for position. All Gideon could really see was a tangle of lights.
The crowd cheered and hollered more, gathered around the girl, waving money or jostled their mates joking and talking. Another group of bikers lined their motorcycles up before the gate.
Gideon shook his head and since he seemed to be in an out of the way place, took the time to actually get a better look around. Now that it was dark out, those inside the hangar had turned on all the lights and had all the doors open. He could get a good look inside. Gideon shifted his weight and position. His eyes narrowed. What the fuck were these people doing with a transport that had space flight capabilities?
In the middle of the hangar, hanging from cables and jacked up with hydraulics, was a standard sized, all terrain hover transport. It was a type that Gideon was all too familiar with from his Special Forces career. Their pilots called it a flying brick and Gideon was inclined to agree with them. The transport looked nothing more than a tube that someone had welded a blunt triangular style polygon to the back half of it and deigned to call them wings. The bottom was covered in industrial versions of the same type of hover engines that were used in autos, but instead of being six inches thick they were roughly a foot and a half. With insulation and decking, that meant the bottom of the transport was roughly two feet from the ground and thus made them easy to get in and out of with their huge sliding doors. The bottom half of the transport was covered in black insulation tile. It could go in and out of atmosphere. And the back had a rising tail fin similar to a sharks over an honest to goodness rocket.
He’d jumped out of the things over a hundred times and still didn’t know why no one could come up with something better. Anything would have been preferable. The one good thing about them as far as he knew was that they were easy to add ‘compartments’ to. That back rocket and tail disengaged and more cargo or troop transport modules could be added to make them longer. A standard size could hold up to twenty troops more than comfortably.
They were clunky, clumsy, a pain in the ass to maintain, and cost a fortune in upkeep. They were moderately fragile. And this one looked like it’d gotten a little too close to a nuclear explosion, carbon scoring streaked the white above the tiles. Underneath, he could see the bright blue flames and white strikes of arcing welders. Someone or something had sent this transport through the wringer and when explosions and transports got close together, it was always a miracle if the transport survived.
Hell, he’d survived a few missions where the transports hadn’t. He and his entire crew had bailed before it got hit, turning it into a fireball. That always made the way down interesting, between trying not to be hit with debris and not be smeared into the damn ground at the same time.
He always felt bad for the pilots. They were sitting ducks and they all knew it since the things didn’t have any weapons. The military wouldn’t put guns or rockets on the things, considering it a waste of money. They were lucky if they were modified with a few defense capabilities like chaff or flares. Usually that wasn’t enough to save them because of their lack of maneuverability. An enemy could send two rockets right after the other, sacrifice the first and the second would strike home.
The tail of this one had a huge painting of a modified Heaven’s Heathens logo. Gideon couldn’t wrap his mind around the concept. What was a motorcycle club doing with what was essentially military grade equipment? Really, why? There wasn’t a single reason he could think of that would justify a group of bikers having such a thing.
He shook his head. Maybe it was best not to think about it over much. He pushed away from the wall and decided to see what else was going on. He didn’t know enough about the races to actually bet on anything.
Near one of the light poles that had a huge speaker attached to it, where the outside music was loudest, there was a large crowd dancing. Males and females swayed back and forth to the music, stomping their feet and living it up. Gideon worked his way around the crowd not quite willing to dive into that mass. The music sounded mostly like electric guitars, heavy bass and intense drumming to him. He shook his head rapidly to clear it once he got away from the worst of the noise.
He was confronted with another group of shouting bikers. They formed a two different circles. They had their hands raised and were shouting. Others were waving money. Gideon saw Sasha and as he got closer, between the shoulders, a fight was going on. Divested of their vests, two members went after each other with hands and feet. With a start, Gideon realized one was a woman. She wasn’t tough looking either, but tall and lean and a little delicate with strong cheekbones. The man was well muscled and covered in sweat. Dirt streaked his bare chest as did bits of grass where she’d gotten him on the ground.
He couldn’t see the other fight from where he was but he assumed it was the same.
Out of the corner of his eye, Sasha saw him. He roared, “You! Prospect!” He ducked out of the ring and grabbed Gideon about the shoulders. He dragged Gideon to the circle. The group of spectators booed and shouted as the female got the male in a headlock with her legs and flipped onto the ground. The male banged at the ground with his hand. She immediately let go and rolled to her feet, helping the man up. He smirked at her, and grabbed her hand. He tugged her forward into a searing kiss, his other hand sliding under shirt to rub the skin of her hipbones. She melted against him.
“All right! All right! Who’s next?” someone shouted.
“Get a room!” another shouted at the couple.
“Or take a run!” someone else suggested during the laughter.
The male flipped them off, but the female tugged him out of the center of the circle, holding her hand out for her money as they left. The bookie slapped it into her hand.
Sasha waved his free arm. “I say the new prospect!”
Gideon winced.
“Soldier boy,” one of the guys said. “Yeah, I saw his test run. We need to see what he’s got against real opponent.”
“Prospect! Prospect! Prospect!” the crowd started to chant.
“I don’t know about this,” Gideon said to Sasha.
Sasha ruffled his hair. “You trained. You good. I will bet lots of money on you.” He shoved Gideon into the ring.
The crowd screamed.
“All right, we’ve got a fighter. Now, do we got a challenger?” the guy shouted. “Who’s it going to be? Challenge the prospect.” He looked around the circle. Most shook their heads or stepped back.
Cole stepped forward. “I’ll do it,” he said and started to take off his vest. He glared under his lashes at Gideon. The prospect had been garnering far too much attention from Ashley lately. He didn’t precisely like Ashley, but being her bodyguard was a lot easier work than installing security systems or actually getting a part time job. He didn’t want to lose his position to a wet behind the ears newcomer who happened to have military training.
Gideon eyed him. The guy was at least three inches taller than he was. He relaxed a little. At least, the fight would look fair. He nodded. “All right.”
Sasha stepped next to him. “You better be as good in a real fight as you are against holograms.”
Gideon looked over at him and grinned. “I didn’t survive nine weeks of hell for nothing,” he said.
“I’ll hold your stuff,” Sasha said and grinned back behind his beard. Gideon shrugged out of his new vest and when a quick glance at Cole revealed that he’d taken off his shirt, Gideon did too.
There were cat calls and teasing remarks, mostly about Gideon’s lack of tattoos. Gideon rolled his shoulders and ignored them, focusing more on Cole. The guy in charge of bets came up to him.
“So,” he said and crossed his arms.
Gideon reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. He fished out a couple hundred and handed them to the guy.
The guy raised his eyebrows. “That’s confidence.”
Gideon shrugged. “Makes it more interesting.”
The guy grinned. “I like your attitude, Prospect.”
Cole passed the guy money and flashed another glare at Gideon.
Gideon raised an eyebrow at him. “What crawled up your ass and died?” Gideon asked. He hadn’t done anything to earn this ire from the Cole that he knew of. This wasn’t supposed to be personal.
Cole moved to the center of the ring. Gideon shrugged. If the guy wasn’t going to answer, he wasn’t going to answer. Gideon wasn’t going to waste energy over it. It was Cole’s problem. Gideon turned around to face Cole. The two circled each other, eye to eye, flickering down to watch feet and shoulders.
Cole exploded into action first. It was fast enough that Gideon almost didn’t see it coming. The crowd shouted as Gideon dodged out of the way, using his arms to block Cole’s fists.
Gideon grunted and ducked out, using his feet to tangle up Cole and shove him away. Cole recovered faster than most opponents Gideon was used to and came back swinging.
Gideon took a deep breath as it occurred to him that if he didn’t go all out he was going to end up kissing dirt. He let out the breath and smirked, and let himself go, his eyes back flashed green.
He twisted, dumping Cole over him, and launched his own attack at full speed before Cole could recover. The two lashed out at each other and grappled, but Cole had lost the fight the moment he’d lost control of it, and Gideon got him on the ground with a knee in his back.
Cole smacked the ground and Gideon stood. His tags smacked at his chest. He barely heard the cheers and the shouts and the “I told you! I told you!” Gideon offered his hand to Cole. Cole rolled, shoved it out of the way, and got to his feet on his own. Gideon shrugged and stepped back.
The guy in charge put an arm about Gideon not caring about the sweat and started talking over the others. He handed Gideon his money. The others came up to Gideon, slapped his back, shook his hand, and asked him questions, their eyes and actions welcoming him, telling him that he belonged.
Gideon let that feeling overtake him and swamp the doubts for the moment.