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Logan
“Those fuckin’ Demonios motherfuckers,” I bark out, while we are sitting here holding church. Dealing with these assholes getting the drop on us has all of us on edge.
“Cool your shit, Logan,” Prez says. “All of us here feel the same way brother, but we need to resolve this and do it the smart way.”
I grab the beer in front of me, down the rest of it and light a cigarette.
On top of all this shit, Bella hasn’t returned any of my goddamn texts or calls all fucking weekend. I knew her sweet ass was okay because Reid saw her and her sister downtown at the coffee shop. I have no clue what has crawled up her ass. This morning, when I went to the shop for a few hours to work on one of the brother’s bikes to put on a new clutch cable, she hardly said two fucking words to me.
“Reid, what intel have you found out so far?” Prez inquires, taking a swig of his own beer.
“According to our contacts, Los Demonios have grown in numbers over the last year, and have been known to poach on other businesses. Their Clubs Prez goes by Miguel, but the one heading up the ambush the other week is his VP, and his son, Jorge.” Reid looks up from his computer that he’s been typing away on, and looks at us. “Our sources informed us, recently from the surrounding areas that there seem to be some young girls that have gone missing over the past six months. None of them have been reported in our town that we’ve heard of, but I can contact our guy down at the station to verify that.”
“What the fuck does that have to do with anything, brother?” Prez says, irritated.
Reid puts his hands up, “I’m getting to that. We also have confirmation that Los Demonios have their slimy hands in the skin trade, and have for some time now. Which would explain the disappearances of the girls. Just trying to give everyone a better picture of who we are dealing with here.”
Quinn chimes in, “That’s some bottom feeding scum there.”
Motherfucker.
Looking around, I see that all my brothers have the same look. One thing we don’t do is mess with kids or women. To hear that those bastards, who fucking stole from us, deal in skin, just makes my blood boil.
We aren’t by any means the good guys, but fuck. Skin trading is low as shit.
I drag my hands down my face. “Brothers, we need to find out exactly where they’re holding up. These bastards are good at fucking hiding that’s for sure, but we have
one thing they don’t have—The Russians.”
I look to Jake, because he got the call, so he needs to fill them in.
“I got a call from our supplier, the head of the Volkov Family that we do business with. One of their associates got a call from the eyes they have here in the states and made them aware of our little problem. Seems these fuckers have hit a few others that they do business with. And since they are becoming a nuisance for them as well, they would like to aid in taking care of this mutual problem we’re having.”
The Russians getting involved means more resources to men and fire power. I look around at all my brothers. They’ve soaked it all in. I see the thirst for retaliation in their eyes.
“We don’t need the Russians help,” Gabriel grumbles.
“With the numbers Reid reported, we do.” I deadpan.
“Sure, we could pull sources from the other chapter, but they need their men too. Word is, our chapter down in Louisiana has been seeing activity from these assholes down around the south for some time now. Hasn’t affected them yet, but can’t chance it either,” I tell them all.
“Now, we bide our time, for the moment. We need to find out every location they have because when we take them out, we want to take as many as possible. So, for now, we keep a low profile. Let them still think they have the upper hand. With the numbers they have, we will need to keep a closer eye on our family. We need brothers cruising the roads during the day. See something, say something. I don’t want to put anyone on lock down just yet. Can’t be raising any suspicions.” I look around at each of them as I speak.
Gabriel is sitting over in a corner with his jaw twitching.
“Alright, brothers. I’m gonna hand it back over to Prez.”
The tension in this room is off the charts as Jake’s voice booms over everyone else’s, “Okay...listen up. I know sitting on our asses is not what you want to hear, but I expect you to do it anyway. No jumping the gun or trying anything on our own. Keep that shit reined in. You happen to catch one of those dirty sons of bitches lurking anywhere, bring him to the basement. Then, and only then, will you be given the chance to have some fun.
“Get ready for war, brothers!” Jake slams the gavel down and church is over.
We all file out into the common area.
“Logan,” Prez calls out, as he saddles up to the bar.
I walk over and pull up a stool for myself beside him.
“Jake,” I sit, motioning to the prospect to bring a beer.
