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The worry lining Kevlar’s brow immediately concerned Rubble. Surely, the club could handle a single man. “Who was it?”
“Shovelhead.”
The air in Rubble’s lungs deflated and he cursed. “Are you sure?”
“Kita triple-checked. Apparently, Shovelhead’s been bouncing from one dickhead employer to the next.”
“He went to Ireland. One of our brothers there saw him, but we lost him.”
Kevlar shrugged. “No surprise there.”
“He never was very loyal to one club.” Rubble cracked his neck, memories flooding him of the time Shovelhead was once Macha’s vice president. “So, the Twelve Brothers gave him the boot and now he’s freelancing.”
“I think he has been for a while.” He shifted again, giving away his tell.
“Spit it out, Kevlar.
“I didn’t say anything because it’d stir up shit.”
“Say it.”
“I swear I saw Shovelhead hanging around the Greenback Cutthroats last fall.” He tapped the desk with two fingers. “But he was keeping to himself, and I was only here at the onset of what happened with Doc and Isa. I never knew him to be an asshole. Well, a betraying asshole at least.”
Rubble rubbed his eyes with his thumb and index finger. He’d looked high and low for the club’s Judas and the schmuck was right under their noses this whole time. It made him wary of why. There was an outstanding Macha warrant on Shovelhead’s head. The club didn’t fuck around with those.
“Look, I’m sorry. I should’ve said something sooner. I thought maybe it was a misunderstanding with the club or even blackmail that turned Shovelhead.”
“Unfortunately, it was greed.”
Kevlar’s eyes shadowed. “I’m truly sorry.”
“It’s all right, brother. We all wish Shovelhead made different choices.” He opened the iPad on the desk and started typing a text message to the Macha MC group conversation. They’d need to discuss this, but first he needed to speak with Reaper. Shovelhead had another angle, he felt it in his bones.
* * *
“And you’repositive it was Shovelhead?”
Nikita eyed him, pressing a bottle of Guinness to her lips. “For the fourth time, yes, Rubble. My IT guys verified his identity. Why’re you so shocked? Eventually the outcast always wants back in.”
Rubble shook his head and nursed his whiskey on the rocks. Normally, he wouldn’t drink, but the subject at hand was more serious in nature that whiskey was necessary. “Not Shovelhead. He’s after something else.”
“What do you think it is?”
He glanced at Reaper on the other side of the bar, where he was acting as their bartender. It didn’t happen often, but now and then the club president liked to take over for a while. The rest of the bar was quiet, empty save for Brewer who was taking inventory of the liquor behind the bar. The redhead kept to himself for the most part when it came to club business, but Rubble had a feeling it was better that Brewer was listening in on their conversation.
“Revenge. We blacklisted his patch, called for a warrant, and set all our allies against him. Somehow, he wound up right where he started.” Rubble glanced around the room. “He’s done with us. He failed once but has used the last few months to form a new plan. Macha is on his shit list.”
They all took a drink as Nikita and Reaper let his warning wash over them. Rubble had wracked his brain all day, trying to understand the situation. Nothing came to him, which was why he asked Nikita and Reaper to meet him at the bar to discuss it. He needed a little guidance from his leader before presenting this to the club in an hour.
“The presidency.”
Three sets of eyes latched onto Brewer.
“Speak your mind, boyo,” Reaper said, nodding to him.
Brewer set aside the clipboard and walked over to the group. “He told Isa that was why he betrayed Macha. He’s been second in command for years, never once able to become head of the MC. How do we know every attack on Macha wasn’t meant to take you out, Prez, and that Shovelhead wasn’t behind them all?”
Nikita’s brows shot up and Reaper’s bottle paused at his lips.
