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Butcher sat at the head of the table, leaning forward on his elbows. His eyes traveled around the room. “We’ve got a problem with the Gulf Coast Chapter. Some of you may already be aware. They’re getting out of hand. Reckless unnecessary violence. Drawing attention of local law enforcement and probably the Feds. Not to mention the accounting problems.”
“Accounting problems?” one of them asked.
Butcher looked at him, and then swung his gaze to Shades, who was leaned back in his chair, arms folded across his chest. “You were down there. What’s your impression?”
Shades met his stare. “My impression is that a couple of specific members are using more product than is hitting the streets.”
There was a general grumbling around the table.
“Fuck.”
“That’s fucked up.”
“Anything else?” Butcher snapped.
“Yeah. That’s what’s fueling the violence. But you’ve got to understand the position we put them in. They’ve got the Death Heads pushing in from Florida. Breathin’ down their necks. Knockin’ on their fuckin’ door. Had a run in with ‘em on the Florida-Bama line when I was down there. Those boys are the only thing holding ‘em back. And we’re the ones that hung ‘em out there in the wind.”
“And what do you think we need to do to fix it?”
“Look, there’s some bad apples in the barrel, but not all of ‘em. There’s some good brothers down there, too. Ones I was fuckin’ glad to have at my back when I was down there. I say we clean house, get rid of the few, and then reinforce the rest. Major membership drive down there.”
Butcher’s eyes dropped to the table. “Nomads usually do clean up.”
“Fuck that,” Shades spit out, causing Butcher’s eyes to snap back to him. “Alabama handles its own problems. We go down there and do it ourselves.”
Butcher grinned. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
Shades’ eyes narrowed.
Butcher returned the look, instructing him, “Take who you need, and go handle it.”
Shades couldn’t believe he’d heard right, but he wasn’t about to back down from the challenge he’d been handed. He’d prove his mettle, which he was sure was what this was all about. He nodded. “Done.”
Butcher slammed the gavel down. “Meeting adjourned.”
****
Skylar lie in bed that night, nestled against Shades. His hand was stroking up and down her arm, his fingers brushing gently along her soft skin.
“I have to make a run tomorrow,” he announced.
She lifted her head off his chest, turning to look at him. The moonlight from the window behind the bed shining down on them, lighting him in a soft blue-grey color.
“To the Gulf Coast?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“Will you be gone overnight?”
“Probably.”
“Will there be more trouble with the Death Heads?”
A smile pulled at his mouth. “You worried about me, babe?”
“Yes.”
His hand cupped her cheek, his thumb stroking. “I’ll be fine.”
