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“It looks like you guys really know what you’re doing,” Pony said, not meaning a word of it. “You been racing for a while?”
“Longer than you, I’ll bet,” the rotten tooth guy said. “Your gear looks like the kind of shit you’d wear riding a Harley or something.”
Pony looked down at his heavy leather jacket, his jeans, his boots. Black Tooth wasn’t wrong, now that Pony thought about it. He’d left his MC colors behind to stay as undercover as he could, but really, he should’ve thought about picking up some racing gear similar to what he saw all around him tonight if he had really wanted to blend in.
Next time, he thought, if there was a next time. The whole point of being out here was to find out if there was anyone amongst these racers who might be a problem for the MC, and Pony had a feeling that if there were, it had to be these three.
Something was off with them. It wasn’t just the cocky attitude and the overly affectionate attention they’d paid to Piper. The constant nervous energy, the cheating at the race, everything about them seemed like these were guys who were up to the kind of trouble that the MC liked to keep out of their territory.
The best way to find out for sure, was to follow them. That was why he’d brought the tracking device along with him in the first place, so might as well put it to work now.
Pony had taken the small tracker from his pocket and had palmed it carefully, making sure that Black Tooth and his buddies wouldn’t be able to see it. Then, he smoothed his free hand along Black Tooth’s motorcycle to draw the tweaker’s attention. While he did that, he planted the little tracker underneath the seat.
“This is a hell of a ride,” he’d said while he did it.
“Yeah, I know,” Black Tooth said. “Hands off.”
“Sorry,” Pony had said, holding his now-empty hands up with a smile. “Just admiring. My ride’s not so splashy, but she moves pretty well on these back roads.”
Black Tooth sneered at him. “You got lucky.”
“You’re probably right,” Pony had said, then nodded in the direction of the course they’d just raced. “Want to go again and find out?”
“Fuck yeah, new guy,” Black Tooth said, but the tall one put a hand on his shoulder.
“Naw, naw, naw, man,” the tall one had said. “It’s already getting late, and we got shit to do tomorrow. Remember?”
“Man, I don’t care,” Black Tooth said, shrugging off his friend’s hand. “I can bang out tomorrow even if I’m up all night. No problem.”
Then the third one had chimed in. “Hey, maybe the both of you should shut the fuck up around the new guy, hunh? We don’t need to be discussing our plans around anybody. You heard?”
“Whatever, man, whatever,” Black Tooth said, still sneering as he looked Pony up and down. “This guy ain’t gonna do nothing. Look at him. GI Joe looking motherfucker.”
Pony smiled. He smiled, on the outside, because on the inside, he was pummeling Black Tooth in the face with his fist until Black Tooth became No Tooth At All.
All of which had allowed him to keep him calm in the face of these assholes talking a bunch of noise.
“You guys take it easy,” he’d said, keeping that smile on his face as he walked away from them.
“Yeah, walk off, GI Joe,” Black Tooth had shouted at him as he walked away. “You’re lucky I got business tomorrow or I’d be schooling your ass out here on these streets.”
Business tomorrow, the jackass had said.
That was what had confirmed Pony’s suspicions about the Asshole Trio. They had something big planned for today, otherwise, they would’ve stayed out all night to race to try to reclaim a win from Pony. And the fact that the one had made it a point to shut his friends up in front of an unknown person, made Pony think that they definitely were up to something sketchy. The kind of thing that the club had send him in to find out.
Of course, he’d never imagined they’d be pulling a bank robbery in the middle of the day and tearing off on their bikes like a herd of knuckleheads, but life had a way of delivering up surprises. Especially when you were dealing with tweaker thrillseekers who had to share a single brain cell between the three of them.
Pony saw now why it was so important for the MC to keep an eye on things like this. With reckless morons like this riding around, running into banks with guns, someone was going to end up getting seriously hurt. Most likely an innocent bystander, either hit by a stray bullet or being on the receiving end of a bad car accident as a result of the Asshole Trio driving their bikes like maniacs as they tried to get away from the scene of the crime.
And in his experience, there was no talking to this level of stupid. They were going to have to knock these idiots around, rattle their brains in the hopes of kick starting some remedial level of electrical activity in there, and get them to either simmer down or get out of REMC territory.
Once he’d seen them go into the bank, he’d tried to get a hold of Wyatt and fill him in, but the call went straight to voicemail. No problem. With the tracking device in place, he could simply follow these numbskulls to wherever they were going, and call it in from there.
Which was why he was now riding unhurriedly, as if on a pleasure cruise on a nice sunny day.
On the inside, though, he was running down all the possible contingencies. It was a habit from his Army days; try to anticipate all possible problems ahead of time so that you could prepare and not have to make hasty decisions on the fly.
Right now, the priority was information. Gather as much of it as possible, and relay it back to the club. All while staying undetected.
