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“That’s my girl.”
Birch is waiting for us outside watching the front door. He meets us halfway and walks us to the SUV. “Anywhere else today, ladies?”
“Can we find a Walmart or something?” Heidi asks. “I need to grab a few things we forgot.”
“We can do that. Yo, Stitch,” he yells into the truck, “find us a Walmart.”
“Who needs Google Maps?” I quip as I jump in the truck. “Just ask Stitch.”
He gives me a half smile in return.
“Our friend is back,” Birch says as we pull into the Walmart parking lot. No wonder he’s been careful not to drive a hair over the speed limit.
“Don’t they have anything better to do?” I grumble. I put it out of my mind and follow the girls into the store. “Meet you up front? I need to grab some things.”
“Sure.” Heidi has a list of stuff, most of it for Alexa and Murphy. Should keep her busy while I explore the candy aisle.
By “some things” I meant large quantities of chocolate. I should’ve grabbed a cart. I drop a bag of truffles on the floor and as I bend over to grab them, they’re snatched away by a hand I don’t recognize.
Slowly I stand up straight and give the man in front of me a cool look. Something about him raises the hairs on the back of my neck and I step away.
And bang into a body larger than mine.
I turn and look up into another stranger’s face.
Suits and ties. That’s what’s off about these two. They’re dressed like they walked off the set of Men in Black. It’s been in the high-eighties since we arrived in Mississippi. These are the first men I’ve seen wearing black suits.
Feds? Plainclothes police?
By their severe expressions and air of superiority, I assume they’re FBI agents.
My stomach drops. Rock explained Law Enforcement would be sniffing around the meeting, but having two federal agents right in front of me is terrifying.
The only thing I’m guilty of is loving an outlaw.
The thought fires up my temper. Don’t these jerks have any real criminals to harass?
“Excuse me,” I say, pushing past them.
“Where you from, sweetheart?” One of them backs up, blocking my escape again. “That accent isn’t from ’round here.”
If I glare hard enough maybe the two of them will burst into flames. “Neither is yours.”
The first man reaches for me, and I jerk my arm away. “Don’t touch me.”
“Ma’am, if you’re in trouble, we can help.”
My jaw drops. Are they crazy? “You have me confused with someone else. I’m fine.”
“You’re with the Lost Kings motorcycle gang, right?”
Seriously, laser beams of death should shoot out of my eyes any second. “Who are you?” I put my hand on my hip and call up my lawyer-bitch persona. “I know you can’t possibly be law enforcement or you would have identified yourself first.”
The two exchange glances.
My racing heart slows. They’re not specifically here for me, Rock’s wife, otherwise they’d know I was a lawyer. Most likely they saw us leave the hotel earlier and took a chance. Seems rather desperate, but at least they’re not targeting Rock.
“Ma’am, we’re investigating—”
“Fuck. Off.”
“There you are.” Trinity pushes in between the two men and grabs my hand. “Time to go, sister.”
“Wait, we’re here to help.”
Trinity stops and places her hand on her hip. “No, you’re not. You’re trying to get information and you’re looking in the wrong place.” She takes my hand again. “Come on.”
My legs feel like jelly and my heart speeds up again as we practically sprint to the front of the store. Heidi and Charlotte are waiting by the door. Charlotte’s body is tight with tension, while Heidi seems…amused?
“Is Heidi okay? I shouldn’t have left her by herself,” I say to Trinity in a low voice, hoping no one overhears us, because now I’m paranoid.
“She’s fine. One of those fucks tried to ask her some questions and she pretended she was deaf. Pretty damn funny, actually. The sign language classes she’s been taking paid off.” She glances at the conveyor belt with my purchases. “What’s with all the chocolate? That time of the month?” she asks.
“God, I hope not. That would certainly ruin this trip.”
“Speaking of—” She rubs her hands together with evil glee. “—I bought presents for everyone.”
“Can’t wait.”
We finally get through the line and pay for my goodies, but I can’t shake the feeling we’re being watched. Sure enough, when I turn around, those two men are watching us.
“What exactly are they hoping to accomplish?” I ask Trinity.
“Who knows.”
While Heidi’s still amused. Charlotte seems freaked out and keeps glancing over her shoulder.
Completely unruffled, Trinity pushes us out the door. “Don’t give them the satisfaction.”
Birch jumps into action as soon as he sees us, telling the prospect to take our bags and load them into the back of the truck. I take him aside and point out the two agents who accosted us in the store and explained what happened.
He flips two middle fingers in their direction. “Sorry, Hope. I should’ve gone in with you. Rock’s gonna kill me.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“Yeah, it is. They saw you girls go in alone and it gave them an opening.” His gaze slides Trinity’s way. “Wrath’s probably gonna kick my ass.”
“I think I’m the only one they didn’t approach.” She pats her cheeks and grins. “It must be my resting bitch face.”
I snort and shove her toward the truck.
Money.
That’s what Priest has on his mind as we sit down at the long, gleaming conference table.
How much each charter makes and what percentage they’re kicking up to National.
Now, my club earns well. We send a hefty regular payment Priest’s way every three months.
Swear to fuck our national board is the biker equivalent of the IRS robbing us for quarterly taxes.
While it’s not in a biker’s nature to follow rules, I don’t fuck around with our club’s by-laws. Mostly because I don’t want anyone from National coming around and sticking their nose in my club’s business. Teller sends our check promptly every quarter.
Priest runs through each charter’s business quickly. Less than half our organization is still into the kinds of risky activity that brings long prison sentences, something I’m happy to hear. One club has engaged in a bloody battle with a rival club that’s brought a lot of attention. Probably some of the reason law enforcement has been so interested in this year’s get-together. Some of these guys are total fuckups and I’m sure Priest will have more words for them later. Or they might have their patches stripped by the end of this weekend, depending on the attitude they give Priest.
Unease builds in my chest as Priest skips over me several times.
Finally, Sway and I are the last presidents to be addressed.
“New York. New York.” Priest turns his stony eyes my way. “Been doing good, Upstate. Expanded your territory and grow op.” He casts an irritated look down the table. “Lost a business but still managed to keep out of the spotlight. Looking real good. Beat that murder rap too, right?”
&
nbsp; This is old news, so obviously Priest wants to make a point.
“It was bullshit. We handled the cause of the problem and moved on. Now we’re working on securing our new territory and branching out into some new business ventures.”
Priest nods slowly. “Still a small charter, Rock. What’re we doing to grow those upstate numbers?”
Technically, we are not doing anything about it—I am. I sit back and take my time answering to make sure my tone isn’t colored by my rising irritation. “I’ve said it before, Priest. And my position hasn’t changed. We want quality prospects over quantity, and they’re not easy to come by.” I don’t point out that taking in any old prospect is a good way to develop a snitch problem.
“I get that.” He nods a little more vigorously. “Right. No one’s telling you otherwise. Lost a prospect earlier in the year, right?”
“Yeah. He was a good kid too. Big loss.”
“Keep doing what you’re doing. Your efforts aren’t going unnoticed.”
Fantastic. I barely restrain the urge to roll my eyes, and I work hard to keep my expression neutral. Just what I need—to be on National’s radar.
The smile slides off Priest’s face as he turns Sway’s way. The tension around the table rises to cut-with-a-knife levels. Shit, as irritating as he can be, I am not in the mood to watch my brother get dressed down. And I have no doubt that’s what’s headed Sway’s way.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“A snitch?” Priest says with deadly calm. Deadly enough to make me wish I wasn’t sitting next to Sway right now. “How’d he make it to an officer’s position?”
To Sway’s credit, he doesn’t flinch or weasel through his answer. “There were no signs, Prez. Another member vouched for him. As soon as I found out, I handled it.”
“And where’s the member who vouched for the rat?”
“We dealt with him.”
“Something that’s gonna come back on us?”
“No,” Sway answers with complete calm, as if that whole situation wasn’t an epic fuckup. “The problem’s been handled,” he repeats gravely.
Sway’s always been a smooth bullshitter. Capable of telling you something’s been done without divulging any actual details. It’s served him well over the years.
