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“Me either,” I agreed.
“We need to find the rat.”
“We will,” I confirmed, “and we’ll fuck him up when we find him.”
Raiden chuckled. “He’s going to the basement.”
That was the one place on our compound no one should ever want to visit. “We get the shit handled with Huber first.”
“Then we hunt a rat.”
Loyalty was everything in our world. Betrayal? That shit was death to any member who fucking sold us out, regardless of the reason. “He can’t hide for long.”
Raiden trusted my leadership on this. “I hear you, pres. As soon as we’re back, I’m on it.”
“Good. We focus on this contract and get it sorted. Then we figure out the rest.”
Pushing the door open, I walked outdoors and onto the lot, heading for my bike. Once my ass hit the seat, I stuck my fist in the air, noting the men around me ready to ride. “Roll out!”
Chapter 3
The manager of Huber Trucking and one of five brothers of the same last name sat behind his desk, his hands steepled above the slant in his elbows, staring at us through shrewd eyes as he leaned forward. His displeasure was obvious. A sardonic tilt to his brow betrayed his irritation along with the vein that pulsed in his forehead.
None of the Hubers were known for their patience. Funny how we always ended up a thorn in their side.
Mike Huber was the third son—a middle child. The eldest, Goddard, was the CEO of Huber Enterprises—a company specializing in mergers and acquisitions, particularly in weeding out competition for a hefty price. The second son, Lyle, was a lawyer and a partner in the Huber, Clyde, & Beltway Legal Group. That left the youngest two sons—Timothy and Eric—the hired thugs. They were the ones who got their hands dirty and kept the older brothers free from the illegal shit that trickled down from their father’s numerous business ventures.
Alaric Huber built an empire on other men’s sweat, blood, and bones. A mobster, if you could believe it. Men like him bought up people and property like they were equally expendable. I hated the fucker. Pretty sure he felt the same.
I played my part, standing behind Devil with my hands fisted behind my back and within easy reach of my weapons. I’d learned to be good at this, deceiving entitled men like Mike Huber, who believed I was nothing more than a bodyguard. A big Viking wanna-be who wore long braids and leather but not with much actually stored between his ears.
I didn’t mind they misjudged me. That was the point.
Steeling my expression, I hid my humor. I liked the quick dismissal and the thought that I wasn’t a threat. I got into placesothers could never enter and learned things I might not have otherwise. Plus, I made acquaintances that benefitted the club on numerous occasions.
“What can I do for you, Draven?”
Devil didn’t use his real name. Few people ever dared to call him by it. Mike Huber tested his patience, playing with the pres. Not a wise choice.
Devil tensed, just a hint of his shoulders stiffening, but I knew every one of his tells, and he couldn’t hide it from me. “You haven’t signed our contract yet.”
The cocky bastard behind the desk smirked, dropping his hands as he leaned back, reaching for a glass of bourbon on ice that he must have poured before we entered. “Oh? I suppose that was an oversight.”
Like fuck it was.
Devil laughed, sitting back against the seat, lifting one leg to drape across the other’s knee. “Then I’ll wait for you to finish.” He gestured to the liquor. “Could use a drink after that long, dusty ride.”
Mike’s mask briefly dropped, flashing with irritation before he stood, walking across his office to the fully stocked bar on the opposite wall. It didn’t take long to fix the drink.
A minute later, my pres sipped from a freshly poured glass, tossing back the bourbon in a couple of swallows and consuming it faster than polite society would dictate.
Huber returned to his seat, disgusted that Devil didn’t take the time to appreciate the expensive quality of the liquor. His sneer disappeared as he opened a drawer, pulling out a stack of papers. Official seals and multiple signatures rendered the document legal, with only Mike and Devil left to sign.
Huber picked up a pen, cracking his neck before sweeping his hand across the page, adding his signature. The action repeated on four more pages before he tossed the pen in Devil’s direction.
I wondered at the sudden look of satisfaction that settled over his features, a hint of something foul. Before I could voice it, Devil picked up the stack, perusing the documents before he signed.Good.
About three minutes later, my pres tossed the papers at Huber, snarling as he stood. The stack scattered across the desk as Mike eyed Devil, shrugging his shoulders.
