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I pick up the bag and set it in my lap. Never taking my eyes off him, I unzip the bag and pull out one of the banded stacks of cash. Hammerhead’s eyes grow wide, and he licks his lips nervously. I can practically see him imagining all the smack he can buy with it. I hold the bag open so he can see how many bundles of cash are in it and his eyes grow even wider. I hold it out in front of him for a moment and he fixates on it like a cat with a laser pointer. But before he can reach out to take it from me, I drop the bundle in my hand back into the bag, zip it up, and get to my feet, slinging the heavy duffel bag back over my shoulder. Grabbing the pen sitting on his desk, I jot down my cellphone number on a scrap of paper.
“I’m going into town. Gonna find a hotel to stay at. I’ll be around for a couple of days to… assess things,” I tell him. “If you feel like coming clean, get in touch. If I leave town without hearing from you, expect that some changes will be coming to town.”
I walk to the door but before I can open it, Hammerhead stops me.
“Hawk, wait…”
I turn back to him. “What?”
He looks at me for a long moment, looking like he has a lot to say, but then he frowns and sits back in his chair.
“I’ll be in touch,” he finally says.
I nod then walk out of his office. As I make my way down the hallway, I look into the kitchen again, hoping to catch sight of the redhead again. She’s not there though, which is a bummer. I walk into the clubhouse and see that most everybody is gone. The only person left sitting at the bar is Hogwild. I can see the disappointment and shame on his face knowing how far the Howlers have fallen.
“How long’s it been this way?” I ask.
He sighs. “A while.”
“Why haven’t you done something about it?”
“I’m loyal, man. He’s… he’s my Prez.”
I nod. “I get that. I appreciate that,” I tell him. “But the day for change may be coming. Just make sure you’re ready when it does. I’ll see you later.”
His face darkens. He obviously doesn’t like what I’m implying, but I bet some part of him, deep down, knows how this is going to end up. “Later,” he mutters.
I leave the clubhouse and get on my bike knowing one of two things are going to happen. Hammerhead is either going to come clean and start to walk the straight and narrow. Or he’s going to send somebody to kill me so he can take the money. It’ll be interesting to see which way he goes.
I fire up my Fat Boy and rumble off into the night, heading for the bright lights of the big city to find a place to crash for the next couple of days.
* * *
An hour later, I’m lying flat on my back staring up at the ceiling in a cheap but clean hotel room. I can put up with a lot, but no way in hell am I sleeping in that rat-infested clubhouse. I’m thinking about just how far the Howlers have fallen. When we first met them, they were tight. They were a solid club, and they were hungry to expand. Hammerhead had his shit together and he was a solid and effective leader.
But that was years ago now. Back when Reaper’s father was in charge. Hell, it might have been before he even added the “Old” to his road name and was just known as Grim. They’ve been good allies for a long time, but it wasn’t until the last few years that we’ve asked them to step up. With Phoenix having a straight shot to the border, other clubs like the Desert Deviants or the Vengeance Riderz have been muscling in on what used to be open territory, which has been a problem for us. And those clubs don’t keep their shit straight the way the Ruthless Kings do. Those clubs are happy to get in bed with cartels, white supremacist groups, or even human traffickers, which makes big fucking problems for our supply lines through the desert. We don’t want or need any of that shit on our heads, so we’ve been sending the Howlers some cash to clear out those groups and keep things clean for us.
It was my idea, actually. I knew we couldn’t afford to lose this territory, and I believed so strongly in this plan that I went to bat with Reaper and Old Grim for it. It took some time and discussion, but they finally agreed to give it a shot. It was a brilliant business move and it helped build my credentials with Reaper for him to choose me as his VP.
And for a while, it worked out just like I’d said it would. We had a tight pipeline in from Mexico and the product was coming in regularly. The money was flowing, and the club had never been more prosperous. It was all going like clockwork. But then about a year ago now, we started having hiccups. Shipments were late. Some were missing altogether. Hammerhead had every excuse in the book for us and because things had been working so well for so long, we gave him some leeway.
And finally, a month back or so, Old Grim had enough. We had a few meetings to discuss how to handle the issue. Because I’d vouched for him, I took it upon myself to get this shit straightened out. I told him I’d come down and have a talk with Hammerhead. See if I could figure out what the problem was and see if I could unclog the pipeline and get everything flowing again.
Having seen how far their club has deteriorated—and how far Hammerhead himself has declined—I kind of doubt that this situation can be fixed at all. I want to give him every opportunity to get his shit tight again not because we’re friends or I think he’s a good guy, but back in the day, he was reliable. He was never the greatest guy, but he was good enough for what we needed him for.
Plus, if things don’t work out with him, what the hell are we supposed to do? Go with the Deviants? We can’t just let them take over this territory and allow them to open up their trafficking network into our turf. Our asses would be completely sunk if that happened.
I let out a long breath. I’m tired and want to get some sleep. I push all thoughts of business problems and club politics out of my head. I can’t sleep with my mind spinning a million miles a minute. I close my eyes and clear my mind, trying to relax my body enough that it will let me drift off to sleep.
As I let go of all the stresses and clear my head, the face of the redhead floats across my mind. I see her standing in the kitchen with the bowl of noodles in her hand. I feel that surge of emotion when our eyes meet all over again and my heart starts to race. The feeling starts as a burst of warmth in my belly that spreads through my entire body. Just the thought of her makes me feel like my veins are filled with liquid fire.
This is entirely new to me. I’ve been with lots of women over the years. Some of them I even liked and spent some time with. Not that I would ever call it serious. I’ve never had a serious relationship in my life. Six months was the longest I’ve ever been with somebody and even that, I consider more of a friends with benefits kind of deal. She didn’t, as I found out, which led to me getting a dozen stitches to close a gash over my left eyebrow. But I’d never had that urge to make any of the women I’ve been with my ol’ lady.
The fact that I’m having the reaction I’m having to the redhead tells me there’s something different about her. It’s not just that she’s sexy as hell—although she is that for sure—but when our eyes met, I felt like she unlocked something inside of me. I don’t know what it is or what it means. And I sure as shit don’t know what, if anything, to do about it. I have no idea who she is. She might be somebody’s ol’ lady for all I know. I’m hoping she’s just one of the Howlers’ regular cut-sluts and that she hasn’t been claimed by anybody. I’m going to have to ask Hammerhead about her.
For now, though, I content myself to falling asleep with images of her dancing through my mind. And as I surrender to the dark embrace of the night, it’s with a smile on my face.
CHAPTERSEVEN
