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“Did Ranger ever say anything to you about things not adding up?” Wolf asked Dragon.
Dragon cocked his head. “Ranger? No. Why?”
“You three joined the club just recently—”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dragon said before the vein next to his eye almost popped.
“It means that you guys have fresh eyes on every brother here. And while you and Ace spend every waking hour fuckin’ the sweetbutts, Ranger sticks to the sidelines, observing and taking in every little detail like he’s preparing for war.”
“We’re all fighting internal battles, VP. I fuck to get it out of my system. Big deal. You of all people should relate.”
“You’re not answering his question,” Zeus said.
Dragon pulled out a pack of smokes from his inner pocket. He took his damn time lighting the thing before he blew out the smoke towards the ceiling, like he tried to delay the inevitable as long as possible.
“We’ve talked about shit, yeah.”
“Anything your Prez should know about?” Wolf asked as he pulled a brow.
“I’m supposed to bring it to the table the moment our suspicions were confirmed. We didn’t want to throw a brother under the bus and be wrong about him. Like you’ve said; we’re new to this club. We needed time to adjust and get a feel for any undercurrents.”
“They took my girl last night to a cabin in the woods where four guys were plannin’ on raping her until Silas would pick her up and bring her somewhere else. They’ll never stop trafficking girls since they’re sick fucks and they need the green. They’re already plannin’ on taking Ariella. It won’t be long before they put a hit on one of us at this table. So speak up now,” Demon said to his cousin.
“Vic.”
Those three letters meant more than just the name of the fifty-something year old member of this club. Vic also stood for an obnoxious remnant of old times, for the one person in this club nobody liked.
He also happened to be the son of the most liked IVMC member: Turtle. Maybe that’s why Wolf never listened to his gut feeling and turned a blind eye to Vic feeling off for some reason.
“Explain,” Zeus said.
“Ranger noticed how Vic tends to flitter from table to table at the bar, always listening in, never saying anything of value. He’s also been asking weird questions.”
“Such as?” Zeus said.
“Ranger overheard him ask Stone months ago where Stone keeps the keys to the tow trucks.”
“And?” Wolf asked, not sure where Dragon was going with this.
“He doesn’t work for Vikings Auto Salvage. Why should he care? Did you ever found out where that one truck had gone while it had been missing for a night?”
Wolf looked over at Zion, now responsible for that particular IVMC business after taking over from Demon and Zeus.
“I only know that it ran about two hundred miles. I’ve talked with Fox and he was about to put trackers on all our trucks this weekend. But with the lockdown and all…”
Zeus scratched his beard, being awfully quiet.
“What is it, Z?” Wolf asked.
“I’ve never trusted Vic. I just don’t want to be right about my gut feeling, you know?”
The rest of the officers hummed in agreement before a weird silence fell over the table.
“It proves nothin’, though,” Angel said, stating the obvious.
“That’s why I didn’t bring it to the table,” Dragon said.
“Fox. Install those trackers asap and put one on Vic’s ride. I’ll make sure he’s inside the clubhouse,” Zeus said.
