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"If you want in the club, you have to surrender your weapons. You can get them after." I said before turning around to walk back inside.
Even on a Wednesday night, the club was packed. Whiskey and the other man followed me as they surveyed the main stage where Vanessa was dancing. She was a blond, busty bombshell I tapped a few months back.
The Prospect walked around to the other side of the bar and pulled out the metal box we kept under one of the cash registers.
"Your weapons will be locked up until you leave," I told Whiskey and his partner. They both pulled out handguns from their cuts and placed them in the box.
Then, I led two men around the perimeter of the club and then down the hallway to the VIP room. I didn't bother patting the men down and left that job for Bagger since he'd get a kick out of harassing these guys. I knocked on the door three times, then opened it, and when they walked in, Bagger approached and began to pat down Whiskey first. He reached inside Whiskey's cut and pulled out a switchblade, then shoved it in his back pocket while Whiskey gave him a shit-eating grin. Bagger patted Whiskey's partner next and found a small snub nose revolver strapped to his ankle.
It was hard to keep a straight face as Whiskey and his partner stood with their backs turned from Heavy. So when Bagger left the room and closed the door, they turned around to see him sitting on the couch.
"You've got a lot of balls but not enough fucking brains stepping into my territory," Heavy growled at them.
"Figured there was no reason to hide." Whiskey said. "You already know about the Valhalla Heathens MC and the plans on working together."
Heavy was off the couch in the next heartbeat and threw a punch, decking Whiskey in the jaw.
I grabbed the other guy from behind and wrapped my forearm around his neck, putting him in a headlock. That's when Whiskey tackled Heavy, and they both crashed, landing on the table and breaking it. It was ground and pound for those two when the other guy I had in a headlock snapped his head back, slamming into my forehead. I was dizzy and shook my head as he slipped out of my hold. I tasted blood when he clocked me in the lip, so I swung back, landing a right hook to his jaw.
Heavy and Whiskey were back on their feet, throwing punches at each other.
"Motherfucker!" Whiskey roared when Heavy kicked him hard in the shin. That's when Whiskey threw a right hook to Heavy's jaw, and blood splattered on the wall on the floor in the small room.
"Damn, looks like we missed all the fun!" Said a man with a foreign accent. My eyes pivoted to the open doorway and saw Nolan standing beside a tall man with jet-black hair.
CHAPTER 8
WRECKER
The man with the foreign accent had to be Nolan Reynold's business partner, Piotr Andrysiak, who walked inside the room dressed in a black suit. I rolled my eyes when Nolan entered wearing a tacky bright yellow suit and matching tie.
"Well, if you Neanderthals are done, I'd like to go over the plan for Tuesday's first shipment. It is scheduled to arrive at the Port of Norfolk by 1 am on Tuesday, September 30th," Piotr said.
I crossed my arms and glared at Whiskey and his asshole partner, that head-butted me in the fucking head a few seconds ago.
"I never agreed to work with these assholes!" Heavy barked.
"That's a shame. I didn't figure you'd be stupid enough to turn down a twenty-thousand dollar bonus," Piotr replied with his snobby accent.
"Watch it," Heavy growled back, but we were both curious about that twenty-k.
Nolan pulled a cigar and lighter from his suit jacket and said, "We are willing to sweeten the pot. Work together, and you both get a twenty-k bonus on the first successful run."
"Is it really so important to y'all that we work together? Sean and I could manage this shipment on our own. What the fuck do we care about these assholes and their territory," Whiskey said as he air-quoted the word territory like a smart ass. "Heavy and his Reaper Bastards could drop dead for all I care about their claims to own the area."
Lunged and grabbed Whiskey's cut with both hands.
"I'd hate to make a bloody mess of your fine club here, Heavy," Piotr interrupted. "But I'm bored with this pissing contest. You're either in or out. What's it gonna be?"
Heavy let go of Whiskey and stepped back when this big dude appeared from nowhere. I pulled out my .38 snub nose revolver from inside my cut when the man stood behind Piotr, pointing a Glock at Heavy's face.
"Put the fucking gun down," Heavy barked, his hands fisted at his sides.
The tension in the room was so thick you could cut it with a knife. But when Piotr nodded, the big guy stepped back, clicked the gun's safety back on, and shoved it back into his shoulder holster.
Heavy stepped back from Whiskey, and I exhaled and shoved my revolver back in my cut.
Nolan took a puff of his cigar and then reached into his jacket, pulled out two stacks of bills, and tossed them on the table that was left unbroken after the fight that broke out.
