The room erupted. Some of the men shook their heads while others laughed outright. Preach laughed the loudest, licking his lips as he stepped forward…closer. He looked Gunner up and down. Then the smile disappeared from his face just as he pulled his gun. He pressed the barrel directly against Gunner’s forehead.
“You thought wrong.” Preach forced Gunner to tilt his head back slightly. “My business ain’t none of yours.”
Gunner lifted his hands in surrender to show no disrespect. “I feel you. I don’t mean no disrespect, but I believe we've got a common enemy. And I got a proposition.”
“Fuck your proposition. If the Dessalinés Mob has a problem, we handle it. What the fuck makes you think I need your help?”
“I can offer you a way to make more money. Fuck Crown. If you don’t care about him, cool. But I know you care about money.”
Preach grew quiet, indicating he was listening, and Gunner continued.
“The Ravens have been expanding. We have more territory now, and we’ve been recruiting heavily ever since. That means we have a lot of mouths to feed. What worked a few years ago isn’t enough anymore. We need a supplier who can keep up.”
Preach said nothing.
“You become our exclusive supplier. Not just for my chapter. Every chapter under my influence. Your product. Your price. The Dessalinés Mob gets richer.”
Preach listened. Not because he cared. Because anything about money always deserved listening.
“All I want in return is one favor. I need a problem handled…one my hands are tied on.”
Preach’s eyes narrowed.
“Let me guess… Crown.”
Gunner’s expression hardened before he gave a slow nod. “The council intervened. I can’t make a move on him without consequences.”
“But you want me to.”
Gunner held his stare, nodding.
For a moment, Preach looked serious, as if he were actually considering it. Then he chuckled again and shook his head.
“You biker boys and y'all fuckin' politics.” The amusement slowly left his face. “I don't give a fuck about none of it. Which means we ain't doing shit.” Preach pointed toward the door.
“Now get the fuck outmiplace.”
Gunner’s nostrils flared. For a second, it looked like he wanted to say more. Instead, he glanced around the room one last time before turning and walking out.
The door shut behind Gunner, and silence settled over the office as Preach’s henchmen exited next, giving him privacy. Preach walked over and took a seat across from his olderbrother, Loki, who had been quietly watching the entire exchange. The true head of the Dessalinés Mob.
Time had not been kind to Loki. His body looked thinner than it once had. His face had grown gaunt, and dark circles rested beneath his eyes. A blanket covered his legs despite the warmth inside the room.
Yet somehow, he still looked dangerous. Still looked like the man responsible for leading and expanding an empire for decades.
“Fuckin’ idiots,” Preach complained.
Loki chuckled before coughing into a handkerchief. The cough lingered, and by the time it finally passed, his breathing had changed slightly. Still, he straightened his back. Still, he refused to look weak.
“You should do it.”
Preach immediately shook his head, already knowing where this was going.
“No.”
Loki raised an eyebrow; no one ever told him no.
“No?”
