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"You saw the picture," Eli added, body stiff, ready to spring into action, wanting blood. "If they'd do that to a woman..."
"Exactly," Pops said, nodding.
"So the other option?" Shane prompted, calmer than you would generally expect to find him. He was usually extroverted, loud, crazy. Since the shit went down with Lea's ex, he had a certain seriousness toward work situations that he hadn't had before.
Pops shrugged. "We have someone else handle it for us."
Right.
Navesink Bank managed to be the odd cesspool of crime it did because everyone knew their place. Everyone had their niche. The Henchmen MC ran their guns. The Grassis ran their docks. We illegally loaned money. Ross Ward had his underground fighting. Breaker was hired muscle. Shooter was a killer. V and Lex Keith were the shittiest of shitheads and dealt in skin and other deplorable acts. Hailstorm did... whatever the fuck Hailstorm did.
As for drugs, well, we had two main players- Richard Lyon had his highbrow cocaine which he supplied, mostly, to businessmen who needed a jump. Then there was Third Street who had their heroin and other lower-end street drugs.
No one else stepped into Navesink Bank with drugs. It simply wasn't done. Maybe someone would peddle shit like pot, but neither Lyon nor Third Street gave a shit about that.
It all worked out. There were no turf wars. Everyone had their clients. No one had to worry about fighting over shit.
So when new threats started sniffing around, one or both of them were quick to get rid of it before it put down roots and became a problem for business.
They wouldn't be happy to know someone else had been operating under their noses for fucking years. First, because it might have been affecting their businesses without them knowing. Second, because it looked bad. When it came to criminals, it was best to appeal to their ego, their reputations.
"Lyon especially will be pissed that some jackass in fucking Camden is sitting around laughing about operating right underneath his nose," Mark said.
"And Third Street is fucking struggling," Shane added. "Enzo is holding it together, but the arrest rate is high, the demand is higher, and the supply is getting harder to get," Mark agreed. "He is quick to react when he thinks something is going on."
"I mean, not that we're on good terms or anything," Eli said, sounding reasonable, "but I don't think it'd be smart to put a Doberman Pincher against a Pitbull. This Dom guy has fifty dealers at least. It goes to follow that he's got security. Sending Enzo could be a suicide mission."
That was a fair point and we all knew it, sitting there for a moment to think it over.
It was my mother, who I hadn't even realized was there because she had been lingering around in the office, who came out and offered a third choice.
"We can outsource," she supplied, coming in with a goddamn plate of mini sandwiches because, while we were sitting there discussing plans to bring down a fucking drug dealer, she was still our mother.
"Outsource," my father repeated, reaching out and grabbing her, pulling her down on his lap. Thirty some-odd years together and they still acted like fucking teenagers. I had long-since gotten over the 'that's disgusting' mindset and settled firmly in the 'that must be nice' one. And, lately, 'maybe that will be me and Dusty in thirty years' one. "I'm assuming you have someone in mind."
My mom shrugged as she reached for a sandwich herself. "This is a big job. There's really only one organization in town I would trust with it."
Right.
"You want us to set up a meeting with Hailstorm." I clarified.
When it came to operations, they were pretty hard to understand. They had a big survivalist-type camp up on the hill with electrified and razor wire fences, dogs, and snipers. The walls of their buildings were made of storage containers. They had their own wells, gardens, solar power- the works. From what anyone could tell, their ranks were full of ex-military and various former criminals. What they did was, well, a little bit of everything. They chased skips. They did security and hits and fuck-knew what else.
Lo was the supposed leader, someone that up until shit went down with The Henchmen compound and V, everyone had assumed was a batshit crazy man. That wasn't how it was after all.
"Take that ten grand you were going to waste on the Dom guy and give it to them to fix the issue once and for all. They'll do it," she said, shrugging.
Maybe they would.
"How the hell would we even go about setting up a meeting with Lo?" Mark asked, raising his brows, seeming the least convinced of the plan.
It was right about then that my phone rang, a number I didn't recognize. "Ryan Mallick," I answered, getting up and moving away from the table.
