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“Motherfucker,” he shouted as he hopped to his feet again. “Is this fucking Lobo?” Fiery anger shot from his eyes, and his ears nearly smoked.
Jinx understood the fury and didn’t even have a woman being threatened.
“Turn it over,” Curly ordered.
Spec flipped the photo as Jinx leaned over to see better. Sure enough, a rough sketch of a wolf marked the back of the picture.
“God-fucking-dammit,” Spec yelled.
“He’s back,” Jinx stated the obvious, but his mind raced with the implications instead of measuring his words.
Lobo was a low-level drug runner who’d hit the big-time recruiting members of Curly’s former MC to his side. He’d been the president of a different club back in the day. A nasty organization that ran drugs, guns, women, basically anything that would earn them a buck. Loyalty ran thin among Curly’s former brothers, which played a big part in his landing in prison for a crime he didn’t commit.
After the state overturned his conviction and released him, Curly returned to his hometown in Florida to start a chapter of the Hell’s Handlers MC. He’d steered clear of men from his past due to their involvement in his wrongful arrest and the ruthless and often brutal way his former club had been run. He’d wanted a fresh start with a new brotherhood. Like most of them, Curly would never completely dance on the right side of the law, but he wasn’t a monster and lived by a strict outlaw code.
As a younger man, he hadn’t cared who he stomped on to grab a slice of power. His views changed after thirteen years behind bars for a crime he didn’t commit. One that he’d been framed for by the police with the help of some of his former clubs. Once he’d returned with a fat wallet from a wrongful imprisonment settlement, his old club brothers came sniffing around for a piece of the pie. They hadn’t taken the rejection well when he’d turned them down.
Lobo, the piece of shit that he was, capitalized on their fury and hatred of Curly. He’d formed his own band of merry assholes who profited from dealing fentanyl-laced drugs all over town.
The same drugs responsible for the death of Lock’s sister.
About eight months ago, the MC burned down Lobo’s factory. They hadn’t heard a peep from the wolf since that day. All signs indicated he’d slunk with his tail between his legs to lick his wounds somewhere else.
Until today.
“He’s back,” Curly repeated with a nod.
“Do we know if he resumed his meth operation?” Jinx asked.
“I haven’t heard anything from my sources, but I haven’t checked in as often lately.” Spec prowled back and forth behind the table, agitation rolling off him in waves. He’d be itching to fuck up the wolf.
Jinx understood the feeling, and he wasn’t half the violent fucker Spec was. “Think he has the resources to fuck with us beyond annoying pranks?” he asked as he pointed to the photo lying on the table.
“Don’t know.” Curly blew out a breath. “Not willing to risk it, though. We need to make sure the women are protected.
“Good luck with that,” Pulse muttered.
Jinx snorted. “Can I be there when you tell them you’re locking them down?”
Tracker flipped him off. “We could put you on babysitting duty? Have you follow them around twenty-four-seven until we get this shit sorted.”
“Fuck that. I’m better served on the street digging up information.” Jinx shoved a sleeve up to his shoulder and flexed his hard-earned bicep. “All I gotta do is show ’em my guns. The ladies start drooling, and the men shit themselves in fear. Either way, they’ll tell me whatever I want to know.” He kissed his upper arm with a dramatic flair.
Tracker turned to Pulse, their resident trauma nurse. “What do we need to do to get him held on a seventy-two-hour psychiatric hold?”
“I don’t think it’ll be too hard. He’s suffering from some pretty major delusions right now.” Pulse rubbed his chin as though considering his options.
“Whatever,” Jinx said. “All you scrawny fuckers are just jealous.” Not a single man in the club qualified as scrawny. Even Tracker, who was the leanest, was packed with muscle. He just didn’t put on the bulk that Jinx did. Though Jinx worked out, he couldn’t take full credit for his enormous size. He was born big and sprouted muscles like it was his job.
Got to love genetics. His asshole father was just as big.
And ten times as mean. Damn, those fists could leave a mark.
“Reign it in, guys.” Curly’s words broke Jinx from a past he never allowed himself to return to. He mustn’t have had enough sleep the night before.
“For now, stay vigilant at home and in your businesses. Make sure your security is functioning. Keep your eyes peeled and ears to the ground. I’ll work out a schedule with the ladies and make sure they understand how important this is. Might call upon you guys to help escort them occasionally.”
