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Jack shook his head dolefully. “I still think we should tell Dan Peters.”
“Tell him WHAT, exactly? That we think she was snitching for the DEA? Do you have a fuckin’ death wish? We tell him that, he’ll ask, ‘Why was she snitching?’ Then what do we say? ‘Duuuuh, I don’t know’? Our only source of revenue at the moment is smuggling pot, or did you forget that already?”
“I thought Peters was your boy,” Jack sneered.
“When I buy him off, he’s my boy,” I snapped. “If I don’t, then he’s a fuckin’ wild card. If you want to involve Dan Peters, I say we pay him a little something to make this shit go away.”
“Jesus – ”
“The last thing we need is for the MC to get extra scrutiny, which is exactly what a full-scale investigation by the cops would bring. You’re the one who’s worried about our lily-white reputation – is this what you want, extra heat?”
Jack narrowed his eyes. I could tell he was taking me seriously. “What about the DEA?”
“We’re gonna have to wait and see.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, if she was talking to the DEA again – ”
“What do you mean ‘if’?” he asked angrily.
“Well, she kind of kicked the bucket before we could find out for sure, didn’t she?”
Jack looked like he was about to strangle me.
“Say she was,” I said, trying to calm him down. “Then either they’ll come after us with what they’ve got so far, or they’ll try to pin the shooting on us, or… shit, I don’t know. Maybe she didn’t give ‘em much. Maybe they don’t know about the pot, and maybe they’ll just go the fuck away.”
“That’s a lot of maybes.”
“What do you want from me? Neither one of us can do shit about it now. It’s out of our hands. But there’s no need to go involving Dan. If he thought he could profit from the situation, he’d sell us out to the DEA lickety-split.”
“How would he profit from the situation?”
“He hasn’t exactly been making a shit-ton off us the last couple of years,” I pointed out. “If he could wipe out the Midnight Riders with one blow, and replace us with an operation slightly more amenable to paying off the local authorities – ”
“Like the Santa Muertes,” Jack said sourly.
I nodded. “There’d be a lot more money in it for him if they took over our territory.”
“But we could bring him down just as easily as he could bust us,” Jack complained. “He took bribes from the club for years.”
“Maybe. But it’s our word against his. Besides, there’s fuckin’ corrupt cops everywhere. You think the DEA has the time or inclination to bring down every police department on the take? You think the Feds want that kind of headache or bad press? Especially when a biker gang makes a way easier target?”
Jack stewed in his rage. “FUCK…”
“All I’m sayin’ is, it doesn’t do us any good to have Dan pokin’ around in who that girl was talking to. In fact, it might behoove us to pay him a little to make sure he doesn’t, that’s all.”
Jack gritted his teeth. After a long pause, he relented.
“…alright. Can you talk to him?”
“Of course”
Said the spider to the fly.
“I fuckin’ hate that guy,” Jack muttered.
“I know,” I said sympathetically. “I’ll handle it.”
