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10
ROM
“Prez,” I greeted Mac as I strode into his office. Our VP, Scout, stood to the left of the door, whispering with his old lady, Cat. Our enforcers, Nova, Dom, Breaker, Hack, and Patch, were sprawled out in the small seating area with a couple of couches and recliners that had been added when Mac married Bridget.
I dropped down in one of the chairs on the other side of Mac’s big wooden desk, nodding at Dax, our sergeant at arms, who sat in the chair facing me. Grey sauntered in a minute later, followed shortly by our road captain, Patriot. They stood leaning against the walls, waiting. There were a couple of murmured conversations until Scout slapped Cat’s ass as she turned to leave. “I’ll meet you and the kids at home, Kitty Cat.”
“Kids are with Dash and Brynn tonight, babe,” she replied, tossing a grin over her shoulder before disappearing down the hall.
Scout turned and stomped over to stand next to Mac, feet spread apart and arms crossed over his chest. “Let’s get this the fuck over with,” he grumbled.
Not one of us could give him bullshit about his attitude because it would make us fucking hypocrites. Instead, we got down to business.
Mac leaned back in his chair and ran a hand over his beard before considering Grey for a few seconds, then Hack. “You both watching the Devil’s Jesters?”
Both men nodded. “They’ve been laying low,” Hack muttered. “Been quiet. Too fucking quiet.”
We’d been keeping close tabs on the MC ever since they’d paid a dirty judge to throw me in jail on trumped-up drug charges. The son of a bitch even managed to forge paperwork that said I’d signed away my right to a trial.
After my brothers made things right, freeing me and messing up their drug business, they’d sworn revenge and blood. But there hadn’t been a peep from them since then. We weren’t stupid, though. We knew this was the calm before the motherfucking storm.
Grey bobbed his head in agreement. “I’ve heard some rumblings from locals in their town, though. Hints that there are internal issues within the ranks. It’s possible they’re keepin’ their heads down while they sort that shit out.”
“Rumor is that the prez keeps a tight fist on the funds,” Scout contributed. His face twisted in disgust. “I’ve also heard he considers himself above the rules of property patches.”
I raised my brow at that information. “Sleeping with the old ladies?”
Scout scowled darkly. “Just a rumor, but I wouldn’t put it past the bastard. No one respects him. They fear him. He’s the lowest of the low. Hit rock bottom years ago. Now there’s twenty feet of crap, then him.”
Mac grunted in acknowledgment, but he didn’t comment.
“What do you want us to do, Mac?” Hack asked.
The prez stroked his beard again, then leaned forward and curled his hands into fists on the desktop. “Something’s brewing. I can feel it. I don’t want to be blindsided by their bullshit.” He turned to Breaker. “Put people on their compound and both businesses. Talk to Bear and use prospects if you need to. I want eyes on them at all times.”
“Done,” both Hack and Grey said at the same time. Then they stood and started talking a tech language none of us understood as they walked out.
Mac’s eyes moved to Patriot. “We’ll tighten security on the compound. You’ll be the first to hear.”
Patriot’s woman, Erin, had a sister who was the old lady of a Devil’s Jester. He’d basically stolen her away from them, which had escalated the animosity between our clubs. Not that a single one of us would change anything. The second Patriot decided to claim Erin, she became family.
They’d been pretty pissed, then add in their hand in having me thrown in jail, only to lose the judge in their pocket…it wasn’t a stretch to assume that they’d go after Erin.
Patriot nodded, his lips pressed into a straight line and his eyes spitting fire. He took a slow breath and changed the subject. “We need to talk about the next two runs this week,” Patriot muttered.
“Two?” Dom asked.
“Yeah. Got the shipment going to New Orleans. Now there’s another situation. Dash was approached at a cleanup—an unofficial job.”
Well shit. Dash owned a company that cleaned up messes. But not typical ones. His people worked mostly on crime scenes. And he and a few other employees cleaned up after the Silver Saints when we had to…mete out our own brand of justice.
“Before you lose your shit, Dash had Grey look into the kid, and he’s legit. He was sent by Sheriff Bartley. He—well, his sister—needs our help, and his contact with us had to remain secret.”
Mac leaned back in his chair. “I’m listening.” Sheriff Bartley was Alyssa’s father. He didn’t condone our activities, but he’d looked the other way a time or two. However, he was aware of our reputation for protecting those who needed it, especially women and children. If he sent someone our way, he had a good fucking reason for it.
