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Copper held up a hand. “Let’s cut the shit. We ain’t looking to start shit with you guys. You got a guy on payroll called Lefty.” When Joe opened his mouth, Copper slapped his palm on the table. “Don’t fucking deny it. He’s selling in my town. Now, I want two things. I want your shit out of my territory, and I want Lefty.”
The silence that followed was thick with tension. “Fuck it,” Joe muttered. “Look, I know there ain’t much love between us, but Ragnar has no desire to get on the Handlers’ shit list. We ain’t selling in your town. I make sure of that.”
“Fuck this,” Zach said. His hands hit the table, and he rose, looming over Joe. “Waste of our time, Cop.”
“Calm your dog down, Copper. I ain’t finished.” Funny he cared because Joe filled the exact same roll Zach did. Enforcer. The muscle. The beat-down guy.
“Cool it, Z,” Copper said. Beside him, Zach sat, but his body still held the rigidly of anger.
“Lefty is one of ours. But he’s under strict orders to stay out of your territory. Like I said, we ain’t looking to start shit with your club. Anything he’s doing is on his own. You got my word, I’ll get him to back off.”
“Your word,” Zach spat as though the concept was hilarious.
Copper put a hand on Zach’s shoulder, silencing his enforcer. This was why he was president. This was why his men trusted him to lead them. He didn’t lose his temper. He kept a calm head and thought through his actions and words. Not like many of his guys who flew off the handle all too easily.
“Not good enough,” Copper said. “I want Lefty. Has nothing to do with you or your boss. But I need Lefty delivered to me.”
Joe tilted his head, an evil grin curling his mouth. “I can get him off your turf free of charge, but anything else is gonna cost ya.”
With a nod, Copper said, “We’re prepared to work with that.”
Laughter was Joe’s reply. “You prepared to unload a shipment of meth for us?”
Copper didn’t find the exchange nearly as amusing as Joe did. “Hoping it won’t come to that. Hoping we can be of service in another way.”
“Fucking Boy Scouts,” Joe mumbled. Growing quiet, he tossed back the rest of his drink and waved to the bartender for another. “Got a few low-level dealers in your area.” He held up his hand when Zach scoffed. “Not in your town. I fucking told you, that’s Lefty stepping outside his box. These jokers are behind on getting me my cut of what they sold. Was planning on heading down there and busting some heads next week. You boys save my knuckles a few cracks—”
“We’ll do it,” Zach said before Copper even had a chance to run the potential outcomes through his head. He’d be speaking with his enforcer about that later. He got it, though. Every man in the club wanted Lefty, and most were willing to do whatever the fuck it took to get him. Even push a haul of meth. Copper didn’t plan to let it get that far.
“How many we talking ‘bout?”
“Five guys,” Joe said. “Each owes upwards of twenty.”
Zach whistled. “Not chump change.”
“Exactly,” Joe replied. “You get me my cash, I’ll have Lefty delivered to you alive and kicking.”
Zach faced Copper, his eyes imploring. For a second, Copper let the thrill of having Lefty in his custody wash over him. The motherfucker deserved everything that’d be coming to him, and a lot of pain was headed his way. “Deal,” he said then turned to Zach. “Give him your number, Z.” Then to Joe, “You can send Zach the information he needs to collect your money.”
Pulling out his phone, Joe lifted his chin then entered the digits as Zach rattled them off. “You’ll have what you need by tomorrow.”
Copper stood and nodded at Joe. Immediately, Zach followed suit and Rusty pushed away from the bar. There’d be no handshakes, no fist bumps, no slaps, no pounding on each other’s back. No one here liked each other. Just held a grudging respect for the fact that they ran successful operations in the same crooked underworld and wanted no trouble. Honor among thieves kind of thing.
Once they were outside, Copper took his first full breath. The sun still warmed the air but would be dwindling by the time they returned home. The temperature was warmer than it had been over the past few weeks and was slated to continue that way which was why they’d rode their bikes. Driving in a cage sucked, and they only did it when the alternative was hypothermia.
“So how we gonna play this?” Rusty asked when they reached their bikes.
“What do you mean?” Zach asked.
“Well, we ain’t fucking doing this asshole’s dirty work. We just paid him a shit ton of money, above what Shell actually owed. Now we’re gonna do him favors? Do his job for him? Don’t fucking think so, right, Cop?”
