Narrowing his eyes, he smirks.
“You mean to say, you don’t wish to supply us anymore? Surely your club can continue to do business with us at least. We have been a long-standing customer, Jackson. It’s bad business to sever ties such as ours.”
It’s not hard to tell he’s goading me. It’s a tactic to see how committed I am to going legit. One I would have use if I were in his position so I won’t hold it against him.
“Sorry, Oscar. I appreciate your business, but it’s time for my MC to step aside and let some of the others have a taste of the good life. Like I said, I’m happy to take the last order, it’ll be ready for transport next week, but this will be the last one.”
Signaling to the man on his right, Oscar speaks in hushed tones before accepting the briefcase the other man is holding. Placing it on the table between us, Oscar says,
“I believe you will find your regular fee, and an incentive to deliver the goods three days early to the new location inside.”
“What new location,” I growl. “Marcus didn’t say shit about a new drop point, or you needing the shipment early.”
This is what I’m talking about. People are getting more demanding, trying to change the rules, and break agreements regularly these days. The reason, Vengeance hasn’t had a brother do a long stretch in prison is because we play it safe. We might deal with the underbelly of society, but we do it smart. Planned runs, pre-approved drop points, schedules cast in stone. We don’t make changes at the last minute, and we don’t deliver early. Marcus, one of, Oscar’s higher ranking soldiers, the man we usually deal with is lucky he’s not here today, because if he were he’d be answering to my size thirteen boot.
Folding his hands in his lap, Oscar smiles widely, showing off a set of discolored yellow teeth.
“I will speak with, Marcus about his failure to communicate this with you. I can assure you, he will be dealt with appropriately for his mistake.”
“Yeah, that’s great, but it doesn’t change that you’re expecting delivery in seven days and to a location we haven’t had a chance to secure yet, does it?”
“No, it doesn’t. We will be awaiting your men in one week, at that location,” he adds, gesturing to the briefcase. “Or we will see it as an insult to our decades-long business relationship.”
I’m sure he will, I groan internally. The thing with these cartels is; they see every-fucking-thing as an insult. Oscar knew, coming in here, that I wouldn’t go for it. No biker, even if he’s only had his patch for a day, would see this deal for anything other than what it is; bullshit. He’s got me backed into a corner, though. I’d already agree to fill the order before he changed the rules, so I can’t back out now.
Deals like this don’t work the same way as their counterparts in the legitimate business world. There is no code of honor, no contracts, and no backing out if someone doesn’t stick to what’s been agreed upon. No, in my world you’ve got assholes like this who think they make the rules and can change them whenever the hell they like, which means you’ve always got to be one step ahead of them.
“If what’s in that case isn’t double our usual, we’re gonna have a problem, Oscar,” I hedge knowing it won’t be.
Glaring at me, Oscar tips his hand one card too early. Rule number two; always keep an ace up your sleeve.
“I think you mistake me for someone I am not, Jackson. I am not a fool, but I fear for you that this is what you think. We have been more than generous with our compensation. If the amount enclosed displeases you, I am afraid we will have what you call a; problem.”
I was prepared to take the deal before he issued his idle threat, I’d just wanted to see how far he was willing to go to have his demands met. Like I said; know your enemy. Good old Oscar apparently must really want those guns, or he wouldn’t be willing to risk going to war with us to get them. Because frankly, he knows that what he’ll get threatening an MC President.
Tipping my head toward the case lets, Fury know we’re done here. Sliding it over, Fury flicks it open, nodding his head twice to signal the money’s all there. I take that as my opportunity to put an end to our meeting, standing up and offering my hand to the man to shake.
“Good doing business with you, Oscar. Sorry, we won’t be able to do anymore.” I say unconvincingly.
“Should you reconsider, do not hesitate to contact us. Your fee may not be the same as it is now. However, we trust your club so I’m sure we could come to an agreement that would benefit us both.” Yeah, fuck you too buddy. Not going to happen.
Gripping his hand tighter than is considered friendly, I reply,
“If we do, I’ll get word to you.” There’s no need to tell him he’ll never get that call because he already knows that. So without another word, Fury, Sly, and I turn and walk out of the warehouse.
Straddling our bikes, we watch the six gorilla’s box in their boss, walking him to one of the two SUV’s parked in the empty lot like he’s royalty. Fury waits for them to leave, nothing but tire tracks in the gravel and a cloud dust to prove they were ever here before asking,
“What the fuck was that all about? They’ve never done a last minute switch up before. Never threatened us either.”
“Yeah, well, the word must have gotten around we’re not gonna be in the game for much longer. That was, Oscar playing the only hand he had, Brother. They want to go out on top, and by changing the rules, he believes he’s doing that. Let him have what he thinks is his victory, we’re so close to done it won’t hurt any.”
“What about this drop, though, Boss? Jump’s still on the road for a few more days, so we can’t use him to case this one. Gage’s good, but he’s no, Jump. And Diesel, he’s fucked up over that bitch who left him last month so I don’t know if he’ll be up to it,” Sly states.
He’s not wrong either. Jump, my Road Captain, isn’t due back for close to a week, and my VP, Diesel, hasn’t been himself since the woman he’d been seeing broke it off with him, leaving us short on all fronts.
“Looks like you drew the short straw then, Brother,” I nod at my Intelligence Officer. “You can read a map and ride a bike, you’ll do fine.”
I wouldn’t usually risk a run like this by using a brother who isn’t experienced in the way they work, but Sly’s smart, intuitive, and he can smell a setup from a mile away. I’ve got faith that he’ll get the job done just as well as, Jump would have.
“He’s right, Brother. If there’s anyone I’d trust to do it in, Jump’s absence it’s you. Keep shit on a tight schedule, check the terrain, exits, entry’s, make sure you assign enough brothers to ride 2-2-2-1 formation, and you’re golden,” Fury encourages.
Strapping his helmet on, Sly snorts,
“Thanks, I’ll get on it when I get back to the clubhouse. You riding with us, Boss.”
There’s nothing I’d love more than to be heading home right now, but I’ve still got another stop to make.
“Not me. You and Fury head back, I’ve got to go see a man in, Denver about one of our legit deals. Bring bail if I’m not back in a few hours because this guy is a pain in my ass.”
“Need me with you on this one, Prez?”
“No, Fury, you’re all good, Brother. I’m only half joking about this asshole. I’m only paying him a visit because I’ve had enough of the bullshit stall tactics he’s using. Should be a quick in and out if I’m lucky.” At least, I hope it is, I muse turning over the ignition of my bike.
As my lady roars to life, the power of the 1500cc engine vibrating between my legs, I flick my wrist out signaling they’re free to go. Giving me a two-fingered salute, they accelerate, pipes roaring and take a left on I-95 home. Watching them until they disappear around a wide bend, I suck in a deep breath and then another, preparing myself for the pain in the ass my next meeting is going to be.
The last few weeks I’ve been hauling ass between, Denver and, Furnace, a two-hour ride each way. Usually, I don’t mind riding out, putting some miles beneath my tires, but
the reason for my frequent trips out of town lately are what had me seeing red. Lewis Adams, the club's lawyer, located in, Denver, and on call 24/7 for a fuckload of cake, was helping to broker a contract on another garage just on the outskirts of, Boulder. Something I’d been working on getting up and running for months with disappointing results.
Expanding was going to be the only way the club could extricate themselves from drugs and guns entirely. Something I knew, and wanted more than my next breath. We wouldn’t be as cashed up as we are right now, it would take a few years, but we certainly wouldn’t be hurting for green either. Shit, patched members, cut of business was already in the high five figures each month. When we were completely legal, before opening the Boulder expansion, my brothers take would work out to be around thirteen thousand a month.
If the assholes complained when they were making that kind of numbers, I’d actually consider punching them in the fucking throat. Hell, most of his brothers live in the clubhouse, the single ones anyway. They drink the booze and eat the food I send the prospects to get, club whores do their cleaning, cooking, and laundry, and on top of that I pay them a fuck load of cake. What the more could they want? Hell if I know.
But the logistics of the deal on the MC’s end wasn’t the issue. The seller of the property we were buying in, Boulder was. He was dragging ass, so I’d made a personal appearance at today’s meeting in hopes that it would hurry this shit along. Jesus, the look on the guy’s face was priceless when I sat down opposite the table from him. I’m aware I come across as intimidating, but what do people expect? I’m a fucking MC President for Christ’s sake.
Standing at six-foot-four and weighing two hundred and fifty pounds of solid muscle, the only man who rivals me in height and build is, Diesel. Most of the brothers come close, within forty pounds or so, but lack the bulk I do
“Lewis,” I address our lawyer.
“Jackson, good to see you. I trust your ride here was good?” He doesn’t give a shit either way, so his attempt at making small-talk falls flat.
“I wish I hadn’t needed to make the trip at all, but I’m here now. Let’s see what we can do about moving this shit along, though, I want to get home before I’m too old to ride.”
The fifty-something man with thinning hair across from me scratches the back of his neck, leaning over, he mumbles incoherently to the guy who he’s brought along. I’m assuming it's his lawyer, but I don’t care enough to ask.
“Yes, let’s shall we,” Lewis agrees facing off with the two other men in the room. “Mr. Kirksey, I have been informed that you have revised the purchase price of your property since Mr. Carr put his offer in on the property. Is this correct?”
“My client only recently learned the true value of his property and is well within his rights to increase the price as he sees fit, Mr. Adams,” the ruddy-faced suit replies.
Clearing his throat, Lewis pulls a file out of his briefcase that’s sitting on the floor between our chairs.
“It was also brought to my attention that your client has, coincidentally around the same time, acquired a background check on my client. Including his current credit score and limited financial records. Would this too be correct?”
Waving his hand dismissively, assholes lawyer snaps,
“I’m not sure I like where you’re going with your line of questioning counselor. Again, my client is perfectly within the bounds of the law to obtain the necessary documents to support the successful sale of his property. And I can assure you, the documents you have mentioned were all necessary.”
“You’re fucking joking, aren’t you?” I growl darkly. This guy has got to be kidding, right? I know I didn’t just hear him infer that because he’s since found out I’m loaded; he wants to jack up the price accordingly. He couldn’t be that stupid, could he?
“Give me a moment to deal with this please, Jackson.”
“You’ve got two minutes before I take matters into my own hand, Lewis,” my depth of warning evident in the tone I use. Deep, and laced with fury.
“What I’m failing to see, Mr. Kirksey, is where the documents pertaining to the new valuation of the property are.”
“I believe we should stick to the matter at hand, Mr. Adams,” he retorts. “We are here to discuss the sale of my clients building, not who has what paperwork. If you are ready to proceed at the new price, then we have something to discuss. If not, I have another engagement I need to get to.”
“Look, buddy, I don’t know who the fuck you or your client think you are, but I’m not a man you want to fuck with,” I spit viciously, gritting my teeth. “You want to sell and I want to buy, it’s as simple as that. I’m willing to sign on the dotted line right here, right now, but not at your bullshit over inflated price.”
“There’s no need for the profanity, sir,” he chastises. “I speak for my client when I say, we are content with walking away today if you aren’t prepared to negotiate.”
I’ll just bet he is, I fume. The fact remains; I’m not walking out of here without that piece of property.
“Listen up, asshole.”
“Jackson, I’ll handle this.” Lewis tugs on my arm urgently, but I’m on a roll.
Shrugging him off, I go on.
“You’ve gotta be fucking stupid or just plain ballsy to fuck me over on this, asshole. I suggest you get the papers and your fancy pen out and sign the damn contract. The first one, not this bullshit,” I spit, gesturing to the sheaf of papers in front of me. “Make the smart choice here and I won’t have to pay you a fucking visit for trying to fuck me over.”
Half an hour later, the property is mine and hopefully, this will be the last visit I need to make out here until the renovations on the building are done. Occasionally, I might need to check to see if they’re on schedule, but that’ll be about it.
CHAPTER FOUR
~ Bethany ‘Beth’ Miller ~
“A change is as good as a holiday. Unless that holiday is on a sinking ship and you’ll more than likely drown at sea.”
- Text from Bec to Beth
Is it wrong to be questioning my sanity at the age of thirty-four? I haven’t before, but there’s a first time for everything. After moving so far away from the place I’ve called home for years and all of my friends, I honestly believe I might be a little unstable. Because who does that? Who just ups and leaves everything behind? Me, obviously.
And yes, I’m aware that talking to myself is one of the first signs of insanity and I embrace it. In my position, you would too. Initially, I believed this would be the perfect solution to my problem, but now? I think I might just have bitten off more than I can chew. I’m not sure where to start or how to explain my current set of circumstances, but I’ll give it my best shot. Bear with me, this will take a minute…
I met Jonas, or Jay to his friends, (I can’t bring myself to call him that, it makes him sound like a fifteen-year-old, surfer bum when he’s anything but), at a tattoo convention three years ago in, Los Angeles. We hit it off instantly, having plenty to talk about since we both specialize in black and gray work and photo-realism. The convention was huge and the first one I’d attended, but regardless of how intimidated I was being surrounded by so many immensely talented artists, I felt strangely at ease with Jonas. I’d spotted him long before were introduced. My eyes had been drawn to him inside the crowded exhibition hall due to his sheer size and his magnetic presence.
I couldn’t help being in awe of him the second my gaze had connected with his powerful frame. Tall, broad shouldered, with muscles upon muscles, I’d never seen a man as big as him before. What was even more shocking, regardless of his significant bulk, was that Jonas managed the impossible, moving with the fluidity of a jungle cat. As I watched him weaving through the crowd with ease, I noted it looked almost as if he glided across the floor. He wasn’t walking or lumbering like most men his size would. No, not Jonas. He prowled with feline grace.
Slipping into the free seat beside me at the bar, Jonas didn’
t look in my direction. I didn’t think he even knew I was there until he asked,
“First timer?”
I let my eyes a moment to appreciate him, but before he could call me out for staring at him too long, I turned my attention back to my drink and nodded my ascent.
“Yes. Honestly, I’m not sure why I’m here. I haven’t been tattooing for half as long as a lot of the artists here, but the shop I work at had a booth and no one to work it, so here I am,” I reply rambling. I do that when I’m nervous.
Laughing, a deep, rich, guttural sound, Jonas takes a long swallow of his beer and gifts me with a stunning smile.
“I’ve got nothing going on for the next half hour until my next client arrives. How about you show me your portfolio and let me decide for myself how talented you are?”
I can’t tell you why I agreed to his request, but the rest, as they say, is; history…
Vengeance MC Box Set - Volume 1: Call Me...Vengeance ~ Fury ~ Jonas Page 4