Lead (The Brazen Bulls MC, #8) by Susan Fanetti

Author:Susan Fanetti [Fanetti, Susan]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: biker, motorcycle club, outlaw, age gap, older man, rescue, tattoos
Publisher: Susan Fanetti
Published: 2019-03-02T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Becker sat at the flimsy portable table in their dim makeshift chapel and stared at the maps and printouts that Apollo had put together. When the club voted today on whether to take on the Volkov drug pipelines, he wanted to be able to answer every question the patches had. His own vote was decided and had been since he’d sat in a Chicago restaurant with Irina, but he wanted the vote to be fair and free of undue influence. This was too important a question to try to shape the answer.

That was something he’d figured out about who he wanted to be as president. Maybe it was the first thing he’d figured out. Rad had pointed out awhile back that Becker said we when he spoke of the club, and that Delaney had always said I, arguing that it conveyed more strength to suggest to outsiders that there was only one voice calling the shots. Becker hadn’t ever questioned that, he hadn’t really noticed it, and he’d never felt less enfranchised because of it.

But he had been. They all had been. Delaney had pulled the club the way he wanted it to go, he’d held back information if he thought he’d get too much resistance to his ideas, and when he started to lose his way, no one in the club had had the power to pull him back. Slick was dead because Delaney had led the club straight into a firefight that only he had known to expect.

He loved Delaney and had trusted him with his life, without question. The man had built the Bulls up from the ground, and he’d made them strong. He’d been a good leader. But after Dane died, he’d had no one to make him see when he turned the wrong way.

Becker wouldn’t lead that way. He wouldn’t pull the club in his direction. He’d always say we.

The door opened, and Maverick knocked on the jamb. “Got a minute?”

Pushing the papers aside, Becker waved him in. “What’s up, brother?”

He had a strong guess as to the answer. Maverick had pitched a fit in last week’s meeting, when Becker, Simon, and Apollo presented the Volkov deal to pick up the drug routes. He did not want the club taking on the work, and he’d threatened to walk away if they did.

Becker had tabled the question for a week; they’d vote today. But he knew, and he was sure Maverick did as well, how the vote would go. There were too many hungry mouths around the Bulls’ table, and the take was too damn good to pass up. They’d get healthy again on the first run, and they’d all be rich before the year was out.

He’d been hoping Mav would cool off during this week. Really hoping—they needed Maverick. More than that, Becker needed him. But his hope had never risen to expectation. Maverick had been fighting against the Bulls’ involvement with the Volkovs since he’d taken back his seat after his release from the pen.

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