He laughed, impressed. He’d been expecting the same bullshit answers he’d listened to for weeks. Maybe she’d do all right with that kind of honesty.
By the end of the day, he’d hired two additional bar staff, Grace included, leaving the training to Zen.
Much of what he did was rinse and repeat, but he’d always loved his SAA position and wore his patch with pride.
His life could have taken a turn for the worse with his father’s death, but Axel’s gift of purpose made him do anything for his MC. Some might have seen what he did as grunt work, but to Splice, he was part of the bigger picture.
Each brother added their bit until they were a well-oiled working cog.
He was happy his job had a good mix of tasks. He couldn’t imagine doing what Axel did, being the spearhead and delegating to asshole people.
He enjoyed the freedom of not being tied to one job. By nightfall, he had ridden nearly a hundred miles across Utah.
Before hanging out at the club, he had one last stop and was ready to break skulls if it didn’t work out. He pulled out his phone and made a call.
“What’s happening, Splice?” answered Diamond, as if the bodyguard expected trouble at any moment.
Splice smirked and blew hot air into his icy fist.
“I’m a few blocks away from your place, and it’ll be your funeral if you tell me you don’t have any cookies for me. It would be a shame to kill you for holding out on me, my brother.”
At the other end, the massive biker, who looked like a wrestler, chuckled in a low, gravelly voice. Splice doubted he could take Diamond in a bare-knuckle fight, but he was willing to give it a go for chocolate chip cookies because he had a raging sweet tooth that needed babying often and a lot.
Fortunately for everyone, Splice especially, Diamond gave him some drive-by cookies.
FIVE
Splice
The warehouse, as he stepped through the open doorway, reeked of body odor, caffeine, and weed. Splice kicked the door closed behind him with the heel of his boot and scanned the area, shifting his gaze among the workers gathering in teams as they packed boxes. The metal shelves extended nearly to the twenty-foot ceiling, disappearing into the distance throughout the warehouse.
As Splice ambled around the perimeter, some sent him speculating glances and a few chin lifts from some he recognized, and one younger woman flirtatiously wiggled her fingers in his direction. Still, he didn’t stop as he made his way to the office at the back, snapping the minty gum he’d been chewing for a while, his hands casually in the pockets of his leather jacket.
He didn’t bother knocking on the closed office door, and Bryce showed his surprise at seeing who was there as he snapped. “I’m fucking busy...oh, shit. Splice. Hey, man. I didn’t know it was you. Come in. Do you wanna coffee?”
The wiry guy sitting behind the desk shuffled in his seat and used nervous fingers to scrape his jet-black hair back off his forehead, glancing nervously at another man working in there, too.
“Your payment is late, Bryce.” He informed right off the bat.
From way back when, the Diablos have kept hard drugs out of Utah, but when medical cannabis was allowed, Axel put it to the council vote on whether they wanted to invest in cannabis pharmacies – and because locals were eager to get in on it too, the Diablos became the main loan providers in all fifteen dispensaries within Utah. They allocated the startup capital for the pharmacies. It provided a consistent stream of passive income. Similarly, their Canadian prescription drug operations, which saw steady yearly expansion, had now partnered with Jamie Steele, selling in his territories on the outskirts of Colorado.
“I’m sorry about that, man. You know I’m good for it.”
Splice took slow steps around the desk and perched on the corner, looking down at Bryce, bored. Splice arched his brow at the sweating man before him. “You should thank your lucky stars it’s me here and not Ruin. You know why, right?”
“Yeah, man. Yeah, I get it, and I’m sorry it’s late. Shit’s been rough this month.”
“In this economy, it’s rough for everyone. You’re nothing special. I don’t wanna be here anymore than you want to see my pretty face coming through the door.” Splice said evenly, like he was about to give the guy a break. He might sound friendly, but he wasn’t feeling it, not when he’d given Bryce a chance last month, too, and now it proved it was a fucking mistake, and Splice didn’t sit well with mistakes. “I know you have kids and a young wife. It’s not their fault they have a prick for a provider, you know? So how do you think this is going to go, Bryce?”
“Please, man, I just need a day or two. There’s money coming to me as soon as I move this stock. I swear it on my life, honestly, I will.”
Rising to his feet, intent on leaving, Splice heard the guy mutter. “So fucking sick of their bullshit. Can’t give a guy a fucking break.”
Was that right? He smirked and turned back around.
If Splice had been into sob stories, he would have believed the desperation shaking Bryce’s voice. But he wasn’t, and he didn’t, so he snapped out a hand and grabbed the guy by the throat, lifting Bryce out of his chair.
“You might want to leave now.” He told the lackey behind him and heard the guy scrape the chair in his haste to get to his feet. Without looking at him, Splice warned. “Don’t be phoning anyone, you hear?”
