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“Tell me something I don’t know. One minute I’m happily married, the next I’m living alone wondering what the fuck I did wrong. I miss my kid. My wife isn’t saying shit and the more I think about it, the more pissed off I get. So, no Montana. I haven’t talked to Largo,” Mercy almost shouted, before turning back to his computer. Knowing he wasn’t going to say anything more, I got to my feet.
“Boardroom in fifteen, brother.”
Mercy muttered something as I walked out of his office and bumped into Storm. “Sorry, Montana.”
“No problem. Got a minute?”
“Sure.”
Two doors down, I walked in behind Storm, shutting the door behind me.
“What’s up?” Jason ‘Storm’ Calloway, the club treasurer, questioned as he took a seat behind his desk. Storm was the president of Calloway Investments, one of the city’s top investment firms. Storm inherited the company after his father and uncle died in one of the towers on that shitty September day. Resting against the wall, I looked at all the remembrances Storm had around him. From pictures to a piece of rubble, Storm refused to forget what he lost that day. While we all lost something, Storm lost half of his family. Not only his father and uncle, but a good portion of his family. Unlike his father and uncle, most of the Calloway Clan, as they liked to call themselves, were firefighters. Storm himself was gearing up to train to become just that when the world changed. Instead of following his dream, he took over his father’s company and never looked back. Storm was also one of the biggest adrenaline junkies I knew and a brother I could count on in a heartbeat.
“You investigated Largo when she left, right?”
“Yes.”
“Find anything suspicious?”
Storm leaned back in his chair and sighed. “Not a damn thing. The woman was clean. Like squeaky clean. No outstanding debt. She hardly ever drank. Didn’t gamble. Had no dick on the side. Piece was clean, Prez.”
“Then what happened?”
“No clue. It’s a fucking mystery. You’re asking, Mercy is asking. Hell, brother, the whole fucking club wants answers. The only one who can answer them isn’t saying shit. All of us have tried. Even Malice, who doesn’t like anyone, tried to reach out to her.”
“Gut’s telling me something isn’t right. She had known that piece since she was in high school. Ain’t like her to change personalities. Know anyone we can trust to farm this out too? I want answers.”
“I can get Pippen on it.”
“The prospect?”
Storm chuckled, nodding. “Yeah Prez. The kid is a whiz with computers. His company just got a contract with several investigative firms to upgrade their programs and shit. If anyone can find anything, Pippen is the one you need to ask.”
I liked that idea.
Keep shit in house.
If the prospect was as good as Storm said, the kid would be an asset when it came time to brand him over into the club. “Get with him after the board meeting tonight. Let him know the score and for the love of God, don’t tell Mercy.”
Walking away from Storm’s office, I headed for the boardroom. While most clubs called their sanctuaries church, ours was the boardroom. Unlike most clubs, the brothers of the Soulless Sinners Motorcycle Club were, in fact, businessmen. Each brother owned and operated their own business and, as such, our church was called the boardroom. Same rules applied, just a different name.
Strolling into the boardroom, I left the door open, knowing that the officers wouldn’t be far behind. Grabbing my seat at the head of the table, I watched as my officers walked in.
The boardroom was for officers only.
No one, and I mean no one, fucked with that rule.
I dealt with anything concerning another brother, either in my office or with one of the other officers, in the main rec room. There were no secrets in my club. I told my brothers what they needed to know and nothing more. They didn’t like it. I’d be more than happy to peel the brand from their backs before I slit their throats.
Seeing the door close, I looked around the table and sighed. “Where the fuck is Malice?”
“It’s Wednesday, Prez,” Payne said, as if that explained his missing counterpart. Malice and Payne were the club’s enforcers. Both men put the fear of God into anyone who dared fuck with the club. Malice more so than Payne. While Payne was more diplomatic, Malice preferred the kick ass first approach. To make matters worse, Malice was the only Soulless Sinner who was a devout Catholic. Brother never missed mass.
“Fine,” I moaned. “You can catch up with him later. Anyone got any shit that needs to be discussed before we get down to business?”
When no one said a word, I brought the meeting to order.
The meeting didn’t last long and before I knew it, I pulled up to the keypad and I punched in a code before watching as my security gates lifted. Rolling forward, I pulled into a parking spot and killed my engine. Taking off my helmet, I hung it from one of my bars, then slid off my bike.
