Page 96 of Sling’s Awakening

“They’ve noticed the drugs?” I ask, growing more and more pissed off by the second.

If this is what Blake has been stressing about, and she didn’t flat out tell me, she and I are going to have words.

Russ frantically shakes his head. “Not the drugs specifically, but the extra liquor bottles when they come in and when they go missing.”

Part of me wonders if the girls know, and Russ thinks they’re stupid. Blake has known something has been up for a while, and if he hasn’t caught on to that, then he’s the fucking dumbass.

I study him through narrowed eyes. “And just why do you think I would know something about running drugs through a business?”

Russ’s mouth opens and closes as he begins to stutter, “I… isn’t that what you do?”

“Do I look like a fucking drug dealer to you?”

My brothers snort in the background.

“Well… I-I just thought that’s how you got money,” he stammers out.

He thought that’s how we got our money.

He’s not wrong, but who the fuck does he think he is coming here and saying shit like that to our face?

“The club has legitimate businesses. That’s how we get money. Maybe you should take notes from that.”

Among other things, but he doesn’t need to know that we do in fact run guns and funnel money through the lawn care business. It’s the perfect setup, really. Mow the lawn of where we’re doing a run. No one suspects the delivery of the product.

Russ’s shoulders slump, his body posture not matching how strung out he looks.

“Look, man. As much as I would love to help you,” I fucking don’t. “I can’t. My advice: get out while you’re ahead. If you get busted, you’re looking at at least a decade, and I got to say, man, I don’t think you will last in prison.”

He gives real bitch energy.

Russ stares at the ground before looking up at us as he begins to retreat down the drive. “I’ll be in touch.”

I shake my head. “There’s nothing to be in touch about!” I call after him.

The only reason I would come face to face with this tool again is if it has something to do with Blake.

We all watch as Russ sprints to his car. His body slams against the driver’s side door before he whips it open, gets in and peels out of the parking lot.

“That dude is fucked nine ways to Sunday,” Val says, breaking the silence.

“He’s on a sinking ship,” I agree.

“A sinking ship while using his own supply,” Mountain adds. “Has Blake said anything?”

“She’s been stressed about stuff at work, but she hasn’t mentioned drugs. At least not to me.”

I need to ask her about this in a way she won’t pry about the club.

“I’ll give it to him. He’s got some balls coming here and saying that shit to you,” Bomber says.

“That’s what happens when you’re on day five of a coke binge. Did you notice he was still in the same outfit as last night? The man fucking smells like ass,” I say before turning to the guys. “I know I was a little distracted both nights we were at the club, but I don’t remember seeing any shady shit going on that would have made me look twice. Did you guys see anything?”

Scar shrugs. “I was a little preoccupied, but I don’t remember anything either.”

Everyone else says a version of the same thing.

I need to talk to Blake and see what’s going on.