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I know I probably shouldn’t. If that wasn’t Douglas in the window looking at me, it was a warning that it could happen at any time. But there is something about being back near Casa Grande, about being in Arizona.
I contemplate calling Logan to let him know I’m close by and safe. But I decide against it. He probably doesn’t even know I’m gone anyway. I’m the one who ran, and I need to take care of myself… or at least try.
AGONY
Church is quiet.
I think you could actually hear a fucking pin drop. I don’t know if this group of men has ever been so damn quiet before. They’re all staring at Legacy like he’s got two heads or something, waiting for more, but there’s nothing else. The situation has been explained, the suggestions made.
It’s Hellcat who breaks the silence, and he does so by leaning over, his eyes focused on Legacy’s and his lips pressed into a thin line before he speaks. He clears his throat, then he shakes his head once.
“What the actual fuck are you thinking?” he asks. “The Hell’s Souls will be on our fucking asses if this happens. No way can Duke and Bond stop that shitstorm from happening, and to be fair, we can’t fucking win that war.”
Legacy doesn’t stand. Instead, he leans back in his seat as he stares at Hellcat silently for a brief moment before he finally does speak.
“I don’t want to stop anyone from breaking away from something that they feel is against their moral compass. Duke assures me that he will have his shit handled with the Hell’s Souls and there will be no blowback on us,” he states, then he tips his head in my direction before he continues. “Plus, Agony has an idea for extra income, and Duke was interested.”
“What’s that?” Hellcat asks, although he doesn’t move from his spot of being bent over the table with his gaze focused on Legacy.
“Buying commercial property,” I announce. Only then does Hellcat’s gaze swing over to meet mine. Arching a brow, I watch him for a breath, then I continue. “I bought the building that Reese’s salon is in. That guy owns a bunch of the downtown buildings, and he wants to sell them all.”
“Could we do it?” Roadkill asks. “Buy any other buildings?”
“I think it’s a good investment, and we could even start some businesses. Maybe a bar,” I continue. “That club in Phoenix that went legit and has that bar? They’re doing fucking great with that shit.”
“That is a thought,” Hellcat mumbles as he sinks back down in his chair. “But we aren’t Club Save a Club. I don’t know about all that shit. However, I thought cars were the only way to go, but fuck, could we pull this off?”
My lips twist into a smile before I speak. “I’ve already bought one. Duke says they can buy at least one, too, between him and Bond. That’s income from two rentals. We keep going, keep investing, and between the cars and the rent, I think we could really fucking do this.”
“We bring Duke and Bond on, maybe a few other of their brothers willing and wanting to switch, and it only enhances our ability to purchase, own, and make money on more property,” Dice suggests.
Chuckling, I swing my gaze over to look at Dice. As our Chaplain, he has a pretty hefty voice in the club, but he hardly ever says a fucking word. So, when he does speak, we all listen—intently.
“What’s the vote, then?” Legacy asks. “If we vote yes, it doesn’t mean they’re in tomorrow. It means that once their shit is straightened out, they can essentially patch over.”
“I vote in favor,” Itch calls out.
“I second,” Roadkill says.
Legacy dips his chin in a single nod. “Itch votes in favor, Roadkill seconds, all in favor?”
A resounding “Aye” fills the space, me included.
“Those against?”
Silence.
“I guess we’re fucking letting these assholes join our club,” Legacy announces.
I guess we fucking are. He ends the meeting, and we move through the conference room and into the bar. I walk up to the bar, the prospect hands me a beer, and I lift my arm in thanks, then move away and toward the pub tables.
“You hear from her again?” Roadkill asks.
Shaking my head, I bring the beer to my lips and take a long pull. Fuck, I wish it were a hard drink. I could really use that right now, but I need to get back to the warehouse and get to work. I want to get that whole fucking Eldorado done already.
I’ve got a line on a 1979 Camaro, and I know the client who wanted a badass muscle car will fucking cream over it. But it’s in Phoenix, and I have to ride there, look at it, and ride back. It’ll probably be an all-afternoon thing.
“I haven’t. I’ve been fucking swamped.”
