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“He’s challenged Dane on more than one occasion, and when Dane and Sal had a meeting without him, he just about blew a gasket.”
Dirt leans back, seemingly processing the information. “Secondly, who else could it be? His VP? His sergeant at arms? And just so everyone here is crystal fucking clear on my stance, if by some miracle King becomes Tourmaline’s president, I’m fucking out.”
I sink heavily into my seat while Dane looks at Dirt with raised eyebrows.
Rebel shrugs. “It has to be someone higher up in the MC. If it’s not King, it has to be the VP. King’s sergeant at arms is like you, Dirt… loyal to a fault.”
Dane stares at the table, and a palpable tension fills the room as all eyes are on him.
Slowly, he eases back into his seat, and his gaze locks with mine. “Maybe I’ve been approaching this the wrong way? Reb might have a point,” he admits, his attention shifting to Dirt. “Dig into everything you can about his VP. And, Dirt, I know you don’t need me to spell it out for you, but I will anyway… keep it discreet.”
“Are you telling me to back off of King?”
“No,” Dane replies, clenching his teeth. “But maybe my judgment is clouded when it comes to him. He takes every opportunity to challenge me in public, like Rebel said, but that doesn’t mean he’s the one.”
“Agreed,” I interject.
“I need a drink,” declares Jonas.
“Count me in,” chimes in Marco.
Rebel stands, opens a door at the back of the barn, and walks through it.
He sticks his head back through the doorway and looks at Marco. “Lend me a hand?” Marco nods and rises. “Does everyone like whiskey?”
“Have we got vodka back there?” Jonas asks.
“Pussy,” Dane teases with a smirk.
“It’s a damn sight better drink than the piss you drink,” Jonas fires back.
Dane laughs, and the tension in the room eases. Even Keg cracks a smile.
Marco reenters the room, placing eight glasses on the table. Following him, Rebel returns with additional glasses and a bottle under each arm.
When everyone has a drink before them, Dane lifts his glass. “To us, may those who betray us get what they deserve.”
We all take a sip, cementing the bond between us.
Bear finishes his whiskey in a single gulp and then slams the empty glass on the table. “Prez, I know it’s not my place to question you, but…” he pauses, looking at Dane.
“It’s a round table for a reason, Bear. We all have a voice here.”
“I think you need to talk to King. I’m not saying we accuse him of betraying us, but I think you need to have a sit-down with him and Sal and lay out some of our cards. It’d be good to see his reaction.” He raises his chin toward Keg. “As much as I don’t like King, Keg has a point.”
Dane looks thoughtful, his jaw set as he weighs up Bear’s words.
“I’m on the same page as Bear,” I remark, lifting my glass for another sip. “If we give the impression that it’s not about questioning his loyalty but rather someone close to him, he might either make a reckless move, thinking we trust him, or he’ll scrutinize his own men more closely.”
“I think it’s risky,” Dirt interjects, tossing back the remnants of his drink. He sets the empty glass down with a decisive thud, his expression betraying a mix of skepticism and concern.
I nod. “True, it’s not without its dangers. But the greater risk might be letting this uncertainty fester in the dark. We need to bring things to light, even if it means dancing on the edge for a while.”
Dane taps the table. “Okay, Sal and I will have a sit-down with King.” He gestures toward Dirt. “You’ll dive into his VP.”
“My men will feel out the families we have business dealings with, but the Abruzzis are the most powerful in our organization. Some will side with the Don simply because of that,” I add.
Lorenzo says, “The Santoros hate the Abruzzis as do the Bianchis. I’m sure they’ll side with us. Marco, you have dealings with the Fontanas… if war comes, will they side with us?”
