Page 30 of Tracked By Sasquatch

Squatch was Enforcer, and Croon’s friend. That was enough of a reason. He’d already run the idea by his prez. He planned to run it past members unofficially before deciding if it was better to involve Croon or not.

It didn’t sit right with Zombie that the woman had gotten away with all her shit yet Croon still paid her bills every month so she didn’t end up in the street, dumpster diving. Which was more than she’d ever done for them growing up. When alcohol and herb loosened Croon’s tongue, he told some horrendous stories of what he had to do to feed and protect Devin. Yet the fucker was still beholden to that goddamned witch.

“I wonder how he’d feel if he knew some of the things Dev had confessed and almost confessed to him last night.”

Yeah, what he was thinking might cost him his cut, Squatch mused as he stood and stretched, but he knew what needed to be done.

However, since he’d actually claimed Devin last night via text, the say was his now and not Croon’s. He’d talk to Zombie. If he wasn’t ready to make the call, put it to a vote, then Squatch would claim the right as her ol’ man. Prez wouldn’t like it, would definitely punish him for it at best, strip his colors at worst, but Devin would come first, she deserved nothing less.

Padding to the bathroom his eyes snagged on a note. So that’s what she’d been doing sitting there for what felt like an eternity.

He plucked the wrinkled paper from the desk. He’d heard her messing around and almost blew his cover when she groaned. She must’ve tried to ditch the note. He smiled at the thought of how flustered she must’ve been. He’d learned that she was uncomfortable being vulnerable and expressing emotions, and she’d proven it in many little ways last night. Not as uncomfortable as she’d been taking compliments, but he would fix that too.

Jasper,

Had to jet. Work, appointments, and whatnot. Will be busy for a few days, but what do you say to dive bar twenty questions Friday?

Trailer park rules apply.

Devin

Under her name was a crudely drawn… pudding cup? His laugh rocketed out of him with such force it took him by surprise.

Smoothing the paper, he folded it and sought out his pants, tucking it in his wallet. His Aunt Phoebe was the only person who’d ever written him a letter or note and he would treasure it.

Even if it was because she’d snuck out after one of the best nights of his life.

After showering and packing, he finally checked his phone, both dreading and excited to see what Croon had texted back last night.

CROON: Not one or two, the ring. 9. Don’t be fucking late.

Precise and to the point, Croon wanted blood and Squatch would give it to him. It could be worse, he could have simply said no and Prez would’ve backed his play. Then Croon would get his blood and Squatch would never be allowed near Devin again.

At least by Croon wanting to meet him in their gym instead, he and Devin were basically a done deal. It already was in Squatch’s mind. He may not be the sharpest tool in the box, but he knew better than to say that to Croon.

He headed to the front office. “Hey Cal, how’s tricks?”

“Great, Mr. Stanton. The accountant should have the monthly reports to you by close of business tomorrow. The renovations have been a huge hit. By my estimate, we’re about ten percent more than last month, and more than double overall since the reno.”

“Excellent.” He laid the key on the desk, rapped his knuckles against the surface twice then strode out.

The hotel was a newer investment. It had been a run-down no-tell motel when they’d decided to invest. The club put up fifty percent, with himself and Croon each dropping twenty-five. Of course, the club name wasn’t anywhere near it. To anyone pulling records, he and Croon owned it.

They’d made the call to not invest in renovating the outside just yet. They decided it was better for the time being if it still looked run-down. No attention drawn, didn’t clash with the bar or the area. Standing out in an area like that wasn’t always a good thing.

When he got to the clubhouse, it was already eight fifty. Going straight to his room he changed into gym clothes and headed for his appointment with Croon.

Damn near the whole club was there. Croon was already in the ring ready to go. Squatch stepped up and ducked under the rope. Croon glared at him, but it wasn’t all anger. There was a fair bit of disappointment, a touch of betrayal too, but also something softer. Something he didn’t dare try to analyze.

Murmurs rose as Croon hopped from foot to foot, shaking out his shoulders.

“Pipe down,” Zombie ordered. “Croon has been wronged by Squatch and they’ve agreed to settle it here.”

The club knew that much, obviously, they were here, but Zombie didn’t say why and that was interesting. Had Croon not said anything to the brothers gathered? Obviously, Zombie knew why or he wouldn’t have sanctioned it.

His curiosity was sated when Santa piped up.

“What’d he do? Steal your song at karaoke?” Ever the jokester, Santa tried to cut the tension but a glare from their prez shut him down. Being called out by a brother was serious.