“Sorry,” he smiles, “It’s kind of like a pledge. Before you can join an MC, you’ve got to prove your allegiance. Show that you’re not a punk and serious about becoming a member. I’d only ever gotten into petty crime shit before then, but I was ready to make the leap. I wanted to be a part of something, to have a group of brothers who’d have my back. So I bought myself a used Harley and decided that I was going to find a club to call my home.”
“You keep calling these biker gangs ‘clubs’,” I say, “But they’re not really just that, are they?”
“Sure they are,” Declan smiles, “Outlaw clubs, to be sure, but clubs all the same.”
“Outlaw? Like Wild-West-Shoot-Em-Up Outlaw?” I press.
“Not necessarily,” Declan says, laughing at my baffled expression, “MC’s just tend to operate outside of the system. They live by their own rules and regulations. Some clubs just prefer not to be affiliated with any kind of governing body at all. Others, known as One Percenters, dabble in some less-than-legal activities.”
“And the club that you were a prospect for as a kid?” I ask.
“They were of the One Percenter variety,” he confirms, “But I didn’t care. I’d never known any kind of law or order, why would I start caring about it as an adult? They weren’t hurting anybody that I knew of. Just the occasional drug run. One of which, of course, I was drafted for. Lowest on the totem pole sometimes has to take the highest risks.”
“What happened?” I ask.
“I got caught, naturally,” he says, looking out through the tall windows.
“Jesus,” I breathe.
“Yeah, it was a rough deal. Never even got patched,” he catches my look of confusion and clarifies, “I was never even made a full member of the MC. That meant that when I got arrested, they weren’t responsible for me. Just as well. I was used to fending for myself by then. I figured out that there was one way for a kid to avoid jail time. I celebrated my eighteenth birthday by enlisting in the Navy.”
“You just up and left?”
“I didn’t have anyone or anything to leave,” he shrugs, “I was already dead to my parents. Wasn’t a member of any MC. Didn’t want to go back to any gangs in San Bernardino. Figured I might as well see what the military was all about. I wish I could say that I joined up out of some patriotic impulse, or something noble like that, but I was just out of other ideas.”
“Were you in the war?” I ask, scooting closer to him on the couch.
“Oh yeah,” he tells me, pulling me under his arm, “I shot right up through the ranks. When I joined the Navy, I realized for the first time that I was more than just strong. I was smart, too. Never would have known it, since I barely showed up for school as a kid. But I had a good mathematical and strategic mind, and the higher ups in the Navy noticed. I was fast tracked for the most elite force there was.”
“Declan...are you seriously about to tell me that you were a Navy SEAL?” I ask, looking up at him in awe.
“What if I am?” he asks, cocking an eyebrow at me.
“I’m just going to need a minute to take that in,” I tell him, “See, here I was thinking that you couldn’t possibly get any sexier...”
He laughs, pulling me to his muscled side. I let my hands run along his hard chest, skimming across his every defined ab. I could tell that this body of his had been through a lot. I’ve spotted scars large and small all over him. Most of them are covered up by his tattoos, but others are too deep to ever be concealed.
“I’m sure it seems pretty glamorous,” he goes on, “But as prestigious as the SEALs are, doesn’t make being one any easier. I did some unspeakable things overseas, Kassie. I’m amazed I can ever sleep at night, knowing the pain I caused for God and country. I’m sure I’d feel better about it if God or country actually meant anything to me, but I’ve never been able to buy into religion. And my country? I’ll love and defend it, but it’s not without its faults. I was a loner for most of my life. It wasn’t until I completed my service and left the military that I finally found out where I really belonged.”
“Dante’s Nine,” I say.
“Exactly,” Declan answers.
“But how did you even find them?” I ask.
“It was a pretty roundabout thing,” Declan tells me, “The first thing I wanted to do when I got out of the military was get my education. Thank you, GI bill. I knew that I could put this strategic mind of mine to work as a businessman. Only problem was, I didn’t exactly have anywhere to land. At least, that’s what I thought. But it turns out that I got an unlikely assist from one of the guys I met overseas. This guy, Joey, was the closest thing I had to a friend over there. We lost him to a road side bomb, but not before he mentioned to his big brother than I might need a place to crash when our tour was over. I expected the offer to disappear when Joey was killed, but on the day I got back to the states, his brother was still waiting for me at the airport. He said I could stay with him as long as I needed to, until I found my footing here in the States. Do you know who that man was?”
“I think I can guess,” I say, “John Baxter?”
“The one and only,” Declan smiles, “He’d lost his little brother in the war, and took me in like I was his own. I didn’t even know that he was the president of an MC until I came back here to Vegas with him. Joey had been a member himself, but with him gone, Dante’s Nine needed a new member. I became a prospect, stayed one while I got my business degree, and got patched right after graduation. Dante’s Nine made me the treasurer right off the bat, and I started using my business savvy to make the club some money.”
“Legit money?” I can’t help but asking.
“Absolutely,” he says, “Turns out I’m a pretty good investor. With me around, the club could put its illegal activities on hold. And while I was making Dante’s Nine all the money it could ever need, I started prize fighting to build up a little nest egg of my own. Vegas was the town to do it, too. No shortage of opportunities for a guy who can throw a decent punch around here. I was a hit right off the bat.”
“Why haven’t I seen you fight, since I got here?” I ask, “I’d love to watch a match.”
Declan’s body tenses ever so slightly against mine. I can tell I’ve hit a nerve, even though he continues on as if nothing’s wrong.