Looking around the Underground, at these people who have welcomed me into their world, I feel a sense of belonging that I’ve never experienced before.
It’s not perfect—there’s darkness here, violence, complicated relationships. But these are my people now.
And I can’t imagine being anywhere else.
CHAPTER NINE
“The Renegade Bastardshave been sniffing around some of our businesses,” Denali says, his fingers steepled in front of him as he addresses the table.
Beast leans forward, his massive forearms resting on the chapel table. “One of the girls at the Velvet Knot saw Dingo and Crusher in the parking lot when she was leaving her shift last night.”
A rumble of discontent travels around the table. Brothers shift in their seats, faces darkening.
“Those motherfuckers are up to something,” Yukon snarls, cracking his knuckles one by one.
Denali’s jaw tightens. “I know. But we can’t start a war until we have more proof of what the fuck they want.” He scrubs a hand over his face, exhaustion evident in the lines around his eyes. “I want everyone to keep their head on a swivel until we figure out what they’re up to.”
My fingers drum against the wood as I listen. The Renegade Bastards have been a thorn in our side since we split from them a year ago. The bad blood between us runs deep, especially after Denali refused to get involved in their human trafficking scheme.
Denali’s eyes shift to me, and his lips quirk up. “I hope you’ve enjoyed your honeymoon, Rambler, because it’s time to get your ass back to work. The club needs you.”
I grunt in acknowledgment, hating that I’ll have to leave Pinky for a few days, but it is what it is. The club comes first. Always has and always will. Something my ol’ lady understands and doesn’t give me shit about.
Thank the gods for that.
Denali nods for Pee Wee to continue. The VP smirks, leaning back in his chair.
“You and Crazy Train will be heading to Rochester tomorrow to deliver a large shipment of product,” he says, his eyes landing on me.
Rochester is the Saints’ mother charter in New York. Their president, Riddick, is a stone-cold killer.
“It’s a day and a half trip there, and the same coming back. The DOT has been cracking down on trip logs, so we’re not fucking around and driving straight through.”
Shit.
The government is a fucking joke with all its regulations.
Pee Wee looks to Train. “You’ll be driving the rig.” Then his gaze shifts back to me. “And you’ll be following in one of the club’s SUVs.”
That’s the standard procedure around here. One of us drives the chaperone vehicle, ready to draw attention away from the semi-truck in case the Highway Patrol starts fucking with us.
“Should be a straightforward drop,” Pee Wee continues. “You’ll meet with Riddick, drop the load, and deadhead back.”
I nod, already calculating the time in my head. If we leave early tomorrow morning, we could be back by Wednesday night.
Once Pee Wee finishes handing out assignments for the week, Denali slides envelopes down the table to each of us. My weekly pay. I tuck it into my cut without looking inside.
“Any new business?” Denali asks, glancing around the table.
When nobody speaks up, he bangs the gavel, dismissing us.
I file out of the room behind my brothers and stop at the bar next to Crazy Train, who’s already ordering a beer.
“Make that two,” I say, holding up a finger to Zeus.
The prospect nods and brings us each a Corona. I take a pull of the cold beer, savoring the tart, hoppy taste.
“I’ll meet you back here in the morning,” I tell Train. “About five.”
