Free Heavy Duty People: The Brethren MC Trilogy book 1 by Iain Parke Page B

happened, in really special circumstances, but it was the rare, the extraordinary exception.
    But this, this was something else. Wh at Dazza was proposing was absolutely unheard of. The Legion weren’t just being offered the chance to patch over. The Brethren were offering a full patch swap for the whole club. Just like that.
    One day The Legion, the next day Menaces.
    It was such a fantastic offer it was scary in itself.
    Coming to our club house that evening, Dazza hadn’t been speaking for himself, or for the north-east charter, or even for the Great Britain charter. He was by implication speaking for the worldwide Brethren. And to say no was to say no to them all.
    It was also a decision that could not take too long. The Brethren would want an answer.
    So it was a period of uncertainty.
    Me, t o be honest I wasn’t sure how I felt about it.
    I was attracted certainly by the chance to share in their reputation. But at the same time I was cautious. There was no denying it, joining The Brethren was a serious step up in commitment. I knew that if we went in we would have to live by The Brethren’s rules, and that meant the club would come absolutely first, the way we had tested strikers, but more so; before family, before friends, before work, before anything, for the rest of my life as a patch. And was I ready for that level of commitment? I had as I’d realised been drifting away from the life for a while now. I was still fiercely proud of my colours, of my club, of my loyalty to my brothers and their loyalty to me. But these were shared now with other things. I had Sharon, we had a home, we had a life at home outside the club, things that I’d not had for many years. I had my business. I could feel myself settling down. We had even talked about having kids.
    And it was also a commitment for life, when they said ‘BFFB’, Brethren Forever, Forever Brethren, they meant it.
    *
    We jacked Wibble the next week.
    Prayers were over and as the guys headed down to the bar Butcher went in search of Wibble who was boots up again on the desk with one eye on the screens and one eye on the porno mag he was flicking through. From up where we were, I could hear Butcher bawling him out, a tower of tattooed rage as Butcher ran him through the bar and up the stair s to where we, the other officers, had hung around in the meeting room.
    We ’d all picked up baseball bats from where we’d stacked them earlier. Tiny had his on the table in front of him while Gut was swinging his back and forth, just getting the feel of it.
    ‘ Fucking piece of shit,’ stormed Butcher as he pushed through the doors with Wibble, ‘goofing off on the job.’
    Wibble looked around the room and then back at us, taking in the bats, the air of pervading menace. He’d never been in the meeting room before. It was strictly for full members and like Dazza, invited guests only with the membership’s permission, and by tradition, strikers were never invited. This was the members’ holy of holies, this was where we had prayers, so only the faithful were allowed in.
    ‘ What’s up?’ asked Tiny in a dangerously low and controlled voice.
    ‘ Like I said, he’s jerking off with a mag when he’s supposed to be watching the screens.’
    ‘ Is that what you are now Wibble?’ joined in Gut, ‘Just a little wanker?’
    ‘ Hey fuck off,’ he pushed back, ‘screens are clear, everything’s secure.’
    ‘ There’s serious shit going on here Wibble, you know that don’cha?’ Tiny continued quietly, ‘So you know we can’t have any weak links in the chain.’
    Watching him, he was loosening himself up for a fight. It was subtle but you could just see it in his body language, they way he was moving so as to give himself some space. Here we were, four guys with baseball bats with the rest of the club downstairs, giving him a bollocking serious enough to have him drag his sorry arse up into the meeting room, and he was starting to square up for a fight?