The two of them lay like that, clutching at each other, their hearts racing, until finally their breathing calmed a little. He rolled off of her slightly, propping himself up one elbow to gaze down at her. His hand raised to her face, pushing a lock of hair away from her flushed and damp forehead. “Hey,” he smiled.
“Hey.” She leaned up and kissed him softly, her lips brushing his. She met his eyes and then looked away, suddenly shy. In response, he bent his lips to hers, kissing her deeply, their breath mingling.
“You don’t feel very dangerous right now,” she whispered to him, smiling mischievously.
He grinned back at her. “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.” He twisted his face into a fearful grimace and made as though to pounce on her. Brenna screamed before she could help herself and laughed as he burrowed his face into her neck. He nuzzled her throat for a moment, then pulled back again to look her in the eyes. “I didn’t want to do this,” he said to her soberly. “I tried to get you out of my mind, I mean.”
“Why?” she asked. “Sounds like I’m the scary one.”
“This isn’t a good idea, Brenna,” he answered. “You know that, don’t you? There’s a million reasons why we shouldn’t be here right now.”
“Like what?” she challenged.
“Like, for starters, you’re the mayor’s daughter.” He shook his head as she began to protest. “Come on, Brenna, I know you don’t want to hear that, but it’s true. You being with me, that’s gonna cause you nothing but problems with your dad. And me with you, well, that’s got its own set of problems.”
“I don’t understand,” she shook her head. “Why would I be a problem for you?”
“Think about it. You hanging around the bar, or the clubhouse, that’s something a lot of club members aren’t gonna like. They’re gonna wonder why you’re there. Some of them are gonna think you’re just there for a cheap thrill with a bad boy, which ain’t that big a deal except that brings your daddy down on the club if you decide you don’t like how I’ve been treating you. Or else, they’ll think you’re a spy sent by your daddy so you can run back and tell him anything strange or suspicious you see. Either way, you’re not gonna be very welcome.”
“But that’s not fair!” Brenna protested.
“Maybe not,” he said tonelessly. “But that’s how it is.” Sighing, Gonzo raised himself to a sitting position and began to pull on his clothes. He handed Brenna her jeans and shirt, and she began to do the same. She frowned in frustration. Then, sighing, she realized there was no point in trying to argue with him. Changing the subject, she asked: “So, did you tell Chig about the conversation I heard between my dad and Rube?”
“Yeah, I told him.”
“So, what did he say?” she pressed.
Gonzo shrugged. “Not much.” It was on the tip of his tongue to tell Brenna that Chig’s suspicious reaction was exactly what he had been talking about, but thought better of it. “Why do you think your dad’s involved in that?” he asked.
Now it was Brenna’s turn to shrug. “My guess is, he stands to profit from it financially. Or politically. Bob Jenkins has been a big campaign donor for my dad, and they’ve been friends for a long time. You scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours, you know?” Brenna leaned forward and met Gonzo’s eyes. “If the police look into the club, are they gonna find anything to use against you?”
Gonzo snorted and looked away. “If they want to find something, Brenna, they’ll find it whether it’s there or not.”
“But is there something there?”
“What do you think?” he smirked, cocking his head at her. “Of course there is. We’re not choir boys. Some of what we do is legit – the bar, for example. Some of it’s not. The deal with the P.D.’s always been, we keep the trouble out of Crystal Spring – away from the citizens – and they look the other way.” He looked away from her, his eyes scanning the valley below.
“And Rube’s okay with that?” Brenna asked.
“Rube’s a realist,” he said flatly. “He knows peaceful coexistence is better for everyone.” He frowned. “Looks like that may not be the case anymore.”
“It doesn’t sound like this is going to be very peaceful for the club,” Brenna ventured.
“Yeah…” Gonzo sighed and turned to her ruefully. “Look, I gotta go. Gotta go talk to someone for Chig, and then we got church tonight.”
“Church?” Brenna asked. “What…”
“Sorry,” he grinned. “Club meeting. That’s what we call it. I’ll take you home first.”
“Take me with you,” Brenna pleaded, wrapping her arms around Gonzo’s neck.
Gonzo groaned and chuckled. “Can’t, babe. Sorry.” He stood up and held out a hand to her. She took it, and he pulled her up to stand beside him. “Listen,” he said, his brow furrowing, “see what you can do to find out more about what your dad has planned about this land thing and trying to frame the club. Don’t put yourself at any risk, but see if you can learn any more details. If you do, come find me. Just be discreet about it.” He kissed her and took her hand, leading her up the hill to his bike.
They rode back to Brenna’s car without speaking, her arms wrapped tight around him for warmth. When they arrived, she hopped off the bike and he stared at her wordlessly, cupping a hand to her chin. “You take care of yourself,” he murmured, and brushed his lips against hers.
“You, too,” Brenna said as she watched him drive away.
Chapter Eleven
Chig banged the gavel and called the meeting to order. The first item of discussion involved whether to accept a new prospect. Jesse Porter had been hanging around the club for a few months now, and had shown himself eager to learn and not too stupid to train. “He knows how to shut up and take an order,” Jimmy growled. “He could be a good addition, if he makes it through.”
“Let’s put it to a vote,”Chig said, closing discussion. “All in favor of the new prospect: Yea.” A chorus of ‘yeas’ echoed him. There were no ‘nays’.
“Okay,” said Chig, slamming down the gavel. “The next order of business concerns our shipment to the Vipers. We got a lot riding on this right now, so we need to make sure it goes off without a hitch. We got the shipment in last night from the Six. It’s in four crates in the back of the bar. Jimmy,” he said, glancing at his VP, “you take three men with you to the exchange: two in the van, two escorts on bikes.”
Jimmy nodded. “Bullet, you and me on bikes. Spider and Gonz, you’ll drive the van. Take the new prospect along, let him see his first run.”
“What time’s the dropoff?” Bullet asked.
“Thursday night. Ten o’clock, at the old warehouse on Shepherd Road.”
“What’s in the boxes?” Spider asked.
Chig opened his mouth in a toothy, feral grin. “Everything the assault weapons ban just made illegal, brother. You can thank the U.S. Congress for opening up a new revenue stream for the Fugitives. Mostly AKs, some AR-15s. Large capacity magazines, and enough rounds of ammo to keep them happy for a while.”
A couple of men chuckled around the table. Larry looked dubious. “You think we’re smart, selling weapons to an MC we’ve had trouble with in the past?” he asked. “It’d be kind of a pisser if they ended up shooting us with our own weapons.”
“Vipers are gonna get guns, one way or another,” Chig said mildly. “This way, we’re the ones turning the profit. And we’re establishing a good business relationship with them. Best way to avoid trouble, in my opinion.”
“Chig’s right,” Bullet agreed. “Besides, we already voted this.”
“Yeah, I know,” Larry admitted. “Just don’t trust the Vipers, that’s all.”
“We don’t gotta trust them, we just gotta take their money,” Chig grinned. He leaned back in his chair. “Any other discussion?”
“I got something,” Gonzo spoke up. “I already talked to Chig about this a couple days ago, but I’ve heard that the Crystal Spring P.D. may be watching the club trying to catch us doin
g something they can nail us for. We might wanna be extra careful about this gun run.”
“Where’d you hear this from?” Larry asked.
Chig gave Gonzo a stern glare, but Gonzo didn’t notice as he went on. “I, uh…” he began, reddening a bit as he spoke. “I heard this from the mayor’s daughter.”
“That hot piece of ass that was in here the other night?” Bullet chortled. “You bonin’ Bear Connor’s daughter, Gonz?”
Gonzo didn’t reply. “She heard her dad talking to Rube Rubensen, telling him to find evidence of criminal activity on us. From what she could gather, the mayor’s in cahoots with that land developer who was here a month or two ago, trying to get the club to sell the land the bar’s on.”
“Why the fuck would she tell you something like that?” Bullet said skeptically. “Your dick ain’t that big, Gonz.”
Chig spoke up, his booming voice cutting off Gonzo’s reply. “She’s tellin’ him this because she’s a plant from her dad. To intimidate us into selling.”
Gonzo looked at Chig, his eyes widening. “It’s not like that. She’s telling the truth.”
“Don’t trust pussy.” Chig’s eyes bored a warning into Gonzo’s. “Especially mayor’s daughter pussy.”
Gonzo stared at Chig for a moment in silence. A muscle pulsed in his jaw. Finally, he looked down at the table, a troubled scowl on his face.
“What do you think it means that the mayor’s trying to rattle us, Chig?” A large, bald biker named Doc asked.
“Who knows?” Chig replied, holding out his hands. “I’ll sniff around, though. Find out what’s goin’ on. For now, don’t worry about it too much.”
After the meeting, Spider waited for the others to file out, and then went up to his father. “How come you didn’t tell the rest of them about what our contact at the P.D. said? About Rube pulling all our past arrest files? Seems like that jibes with what Gonzo told us. At least, that’s what it looks like.”
“This mayor’s daughter thing is a set-up,” Chig retorted, his chin jutting in anger. “Gonzo’s gettin’ his dick sucked by high class pussy, and it’s clouding his brain with jizz.”
Spider looked conflicted. “Yeah, maybe you’re right,” he conceded. I’ve never seen Gonz bother with a chick more than to fuck her. He looks at this one differently.”
“Rube may have pulled our files, but this ain’t what it seems. Gonzo’s gettin’ his chain yanked. I’ll get to the bottom of this,” Chig affirmed to his son. “Meantime, you keep what you heard under wraps, you hear? And watch Gonzo. He’s likely to make mistakes if his mind is elsewhere.”
Spider nodded doubtfully at his father. “Yeah, okay,” he said. Frowning, he walked out of the chapel. “Close the door behind you,” Chig muttered. The latch clicked softly as Spider did as he was asked.
Chig sat alone at the large table long after Spider had left him. Maybe they had made a mistake with Gonzo. The kid had been his son’s best friend forever, and Chig knew his heart was in the club. But Gonzo, in spite of his toughness, had come from a world unlike most of the rest of them had grown up in. Gonzo wouldn’t instinctively mistrust chicks like the mayor’s daughter. Hell, in another world, he and that Brenna bitch could have gone to the fucking senior prom together. Gotten married, had babies.
Chig knew from everything Spider had told him that Gonzo had a lot of grief inside over the family he’d left behind to join the club. The mayor’s daughter was a fine piece of ass, and she might be just the type to turn the head of someone like Gonz, if he had regrets about the path he’d chosen. The awful thought dawned on Chig that she might be working on doing more than just plant false information with Gonzo so he’d tell the club. She just might be trying to worm intel out of him about their activities. Shit, he swore silently: Gonz had just walked out of here with info about their gun run.
Goddamnit. He had to get those guns out of the clubhouse, before the cops came in and searched the place. Chig stood up and paced the room for a moment in agitation, then opened the door and walked out into the clubhouse. He wandered through to the bar area, checking to see who was there. When he had done a once-through, he casually wandered over to Bullet. “You seen Gonzo?” he asked casually.
“He took off a few minutes ago,” Bullet said. “Not sure where. You want me to find him?”
“Nah, nah,” Chig shook his head. “Listen, Bull. I wanna get these guns outta here. You grab a couple of guys and load ‘em into the van. Take ‘em to our storage facility outside. Don’t tell anyone where you took them for now. You got it?”
“Sure,” Bullet nodded. One good thing about Bullet: he rarely asked questions.
“And have the prospects scour this place clean. I want anything that a cop could use as evidence outta here.”
“Got it.”
With the guns gone, Chig said to himself, the clubhouse and bar were clean. No worries about the police finding anything if they showed up. But if they did come sniffing around, that would be a pretty good indicator that Gonzo had let something slip to the girl. Chig hoped that wouldn’t be the case, but he couldn’t afford to take any chances right now.
Satisfied that he had made the right choice, Chig sauntered over to the bar and asked Hump to pour him a couple fingers of Jack.
Chapter Twelve
The next day, Gonzo and Spider were sitting outside the Iron Horse on their bikes when four police cars drove into the parking lot. “Shit!” Gonzo swore. “The guns!” He ran inside and flew down the hall to the back office. “Chig, Jesus Christ, the cops are here!” he shouted.
Chig looked so unconcerned that Gonzo’s eyes went wide. “Chig, the guns! What if they find them!”
“No worries, brother,” Chig said smoothly. “I got it handled.” He stood and sauntered out of his office, Gonzo following. Out in the bar, Rube was standing in the middle of the room holding a piece of paper while the cops filed through to the clubhouse.
“Here’s the warrant, if you want to see it,” Rube said, waving the paper.
“Nah, it’s all good. The Fugitives got nothing to hide,” Chig drawled. Other bikers were coming out of the clubhouse now, looking pissed. “What the fuck is this?” yelled Jimmy.
“We got a tip you fellas might be doin’ other things than just sittin’ around polishing your chrome in your free time,” Rube replied.
“It’s okay, brothers,” Chig nodded. “Just let these pricks do their jobs.” Rube shot Chig a sharp look, but said nothing.
The police overturned practically every object in the clubhouse. But apart from finding a few joints, they turned up nothing that could implicate the Fugitives in any crimes. Grumbling, they eventually gave up and left. Chig grinned and waved at them as they filed past. “Bye, boys. Stop by later when you’re off duty for a drink on the house.”
Rube was the last to go. “Chig, you given any more thought to selling this place?”
Chig snorted. “Not gonna happen, chief.”
“You know this is only step one, right?” Rube asked. “Step two is, we assign a cop to each one of you guys. Follow you around wherever you go.”
“You ain’t got enough guys to do that,” Chig smiled evenly. “Besides, your jurisdiction only extends as far as the city limits.”
“It’s only a matter of time, Chig,” Rube said, looking him straight in the eyes. “The game’s over, and you’ve already lost. The sooner you figure that out, the better – for you, and the club.”
Chig cocked his head at the police chief and looked at him with the eyes of one who already knew the answer to the question he was about to ask. “Whose dirty work are you doin’, Rube? We’ve always had a peaceful relationship with the Crystal Spring P.D. before now. What’s with the sudden interest in our club activities?”
Rube’s eyes flicked away from Chig’s for a moment. When the chief met his eyes again, they were studied, reserved. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Chig. The P.D.’s just making sure all the establishments in the area are on the
up and up, that’s all.”
“Yeah,” Chig sneered. “Especially the one that bumps up against Bob Jenkins’ new development.”
Rube’s gaze held steady this time, but his face turned one shade redder. Finally, he spoke: “You and your club might want to give some serious thought to accepting his offer, Chig. This heat ain’t gonna go away.” He looked around the bar at the overturned chairs and debris that was scattered around on the floor, then back at Chig with a pointed expression. “You have yourself a good day now, you hear?”
Impassively, Chig watched Rube walk out of the bar. When the chief was gone, Chig hurled the glass he had in his hand against the wall, where it shattered. With a scowl, he motioned to Gonzo to come over.
“Yeah, Chig?” Gonzo asked when he was facing the president.
“You go tell your girlfriend to give her daddy a message: We still ain’t sellin’,” Chig snarled.
“She ain’t the reason this happened,” Gonzo said through gritted teeth.
“That girl must give amazing head,” Chig replied hotly, “to cloud your brain like this.”
“Chig, she doesn’t know anything,” Gonzo insisted. “She ain’t working for her dad on this. She’s the one who told us the cops were fishing around, remember?”
“Yeah, I remember,” Chig scoffed. “But I don’t remember anybody telling me what reason a little cheerleader like that would have to rat on her daddy.”
“Are my loyalties in question?” Gonzo asked, his tone strained
Chig leaned against a high-top table and sighed. “No,” he said finally, but his voice said otherwise.
“Good,” Gonzo nodded. His eyes were steely. “Because I took an oath, brother. An oath to this club. And loyalty goes both ways.”
Gonzo turned on his heel and walked away. Chig reached into the pocket of his cut for a cigarette, then watched Gonzo go in silence as he lit it.
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