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“Who is this that you’re talking about?” Griz said.
“I’d rather not say just yet,” Ripper said. “I want to make sure it’s for real before I bring it to the club. But if it is, it’ll be all the firepower we could want.”
“It can’t hurt for him to ask around, right, Griz?” Devil said.
“I guess not,” Griz said.
“And how do you plan on paying for all this high-end firepower?” Wyatt asked.
“We’ll just have to get creative,” Ripper said. “Look into some new means of revenue.”
“Here we go,” Wyatt said, throwing up his hands. “You mean meth.”
“I didn’t say that,” Ripper said.
“You’ve been pushing for that for as long as I can remember,” Wyatt said. “That, and coke.”
“Yeah, well, there’s a lot of money in crystal, and in cocaine, as well,” Ripper said. “Money is power.”
Wyatt was right. Ripper had been a vocal advocate over the years for abandoning their rules against dealing some of the harder drugs, always citing the heavy amounts of cash they could make with crystal or cocaine.
There was a ton of easy money to be made with those drugs, but it was a short sighted way forward. Even Griz knew that. Trafficking those drugs created far more problems than the money solved, not to mention, it went against everything their MC stood for.
Griz had seen more than one life destroyed by those kinds of drugs. Other charters in their MC had messed around with them from time to time, and had always ended up in violent confrontations even worse than the one they were currently facing.
He wanted to see the people responsible for his dad’s coma get hurt, for sure. And he wanted to keep Death’s Head out of his town. But not at the cost of ruining that same town, and everything his dad and the MC stood for.
All those thoughts swirled around his head, but all he said was, “We aren’t about that, Ripper.”
“Fine,” Ripper said, shrugging it off. “Forget that end of it. We’ll find another way. I’m just saying, the weapons give us options.”
Everyone was staring at Griz, expecting him to have the answers. He didn’t know if it was because his dad was the president, and everyone thought of him as the natural successor, or if it was because it was his dad that was in the hospital that everyone thought that he should have the answers.
“I don’t know, guys,” he finally said. “Maybe we should do what Ripper says, and get more guns and men. Maybe that will make things worse. We already have two brothers shot.”
He sighed heavily before continuing. Earlier tonight, it had seemed so simple, so clear. Go get revenge for his dad. But now…
“My dad always seemed to have all the answers,” he said. “I just seem to keep screwing things up. I think that if he were here, he’d say that we don’t need to rush into anything. Not this instant. We have time to work out what the best move will be.”
He didn’t have any idea what else to say. Thankfully, Wyatt cut in so he didn’t have to continue. His brother always seemed to know when to step in and take the pressure off of him.
“We don’t have to decide anything tonight,” Wyatt said. “Like Griz says, let’s let things cool down a little before we make any more big moves.”
“All right, fair enough,” Ripper said. “I’ll make my inquiries about those weapons, but I won’t get too involved until I have something more solid that I can bring back to this room for a decision.”
“In the meantime, everybody watch yourselves,” Wyatt said. “Death’s Head is going to be looking for payback. Avoid routines, stick together.”
The meeting began to break up, all of the members splitting off and making their way out of the meeting room. Wyatt and Devil lingered for a bit, waiting until everyone else left.
“What do you think, big man?” Devil said.
“It’s like I said,” Griz said. “I don’t know what to think. I’ve got to get out of here.”
“Where are you going?” Wyatt said.
“The hospital. To see my dad. Devil, could you make sure Becca gets home okay?”
“Sure thing, Big Dog. You really think she’ll ride on my bike, though?”
