Copper (Hell's Handlers MC Book 4)

by Lilly Atlas

  He stroked his hand up and down the silky skin of her back. “Just this, babe. This is more than enough.”

  She rested her head back down and gave him a squeeze. “Remember what I said, Copper. Anything.”

  And he’d give her anything in return. As soon as the club shit was sorted, he’d be sorting Shell’s shit. Because whatever ghost from her past making her hesitate, needed to be destroyed.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “YOU HEADING OUT now, Prez?” Zach asked as Copper exited his office.

  “Yeah, brother. Feel up for a ride?” A two-hour ride into questionably friendly territory without his enforcer was just plain stupid.

  “Fuck yeah,” Zach answered. “Always. Been hoping you’d ask.” Zach deposited a full crate of liquor on the bar and made his way toward Copper.

  “Anything you gotta take care of before we roll?” Copper asked.

  “Nah, I’m good. Told Toni I’d probably be riding out with you today. She won’t expect me till later. Let’s handle this,” Zach said as he held his closed fist out.

  Copper bumped his fist against Zach’s. A president couldn’t ask for a better enforcer. Zach anticipated what was required of him before Copper even floated an idea. A sit-down with Joe was set for midafternoon. Ragnar would have been preferred as he was at the top of the food chain, but the fucker wouldn’t come down off his kingpin throne in Maryland to make a trip to Tennessee. Joe was Ragnar’s eyes and ears in the area and apparently his mouth as well. Unfortunately, the agreed upon location was a good few hours outside of town. Since the Handlers requested the meet, Joe wouldn’t go out of his way and drive to Townsend.

  Copper was no fool. Joe couldn’t be trusted and wasn’t an ally. He’d be remiss not to take backup along, but he didn’t want to appear as though he was rolling up with the whole MC in tow. There was a difference between protection and an outright show of force. Joe needed to understand Copper took this shit seriously and wouldn’t be fucked with, but he wasn’t interested in sparking a war with Ragnar either. The man’s reach was too far and too wide.

  “Thanks, Z. Rusty is riding too. I just talked to him. He should pull in any minute.”

  Zach opened his mouth then shook his head and sat at a table to wait.

  “Something on your mind, brother?” Copper asked.

  Waving a hand, Zach said, “Ain’t a thing. Forget it.”

  “Don’t give me that shit.” Since when did he hold back? “You leave your balls in Toni’s purse? Speak your mind.”

  Zach cocked his head then shrugged. “Just surprised you’re bringing Rusty is all.”

  Copper frowned. “Why are you surprised?”

  “Look, Prez, he’s your family, so sometimes the guys don’t wanna say shit about him, but he ain’t exactly snuggling back into the fold if you know what I mean.”

  “You’re all my fucking family.” Seriously? Zach was going to play word games with him. “No, I don’t fucking know what you mean. Man the fuck up and give it to me straight.”

  Zach ran a hand through his hair as he grumbled, “Fine, Prez, but remember I’m just the damn messenger.” Of course, when he was done abusing the blond strands, they fell back into place exactly as they’d been.

  “Z,” Copper growled.

  Raising his hands by his ears, Zach said, “He’s pissed off just about every brother he’s run across since getting free. He’s mouthing off, hitting on women who aren’t available to him, and he’s overly aggressive.”

  Fuck. Copper had suspected the transition wasn’t going well. Sucked to have his doubts confirmed. Half his head had been on the clusterfuck of missing money and meth running through his town. The other half was consumed by Shell. Meant he wasn’t giving enough brain power to his brother who was obviously struggling. “Aggressive?”

  Zach nodded. “Drove away a few of my members at the gym. Lost his shit over nonsense. Screaming at them, getting up in their face, tossing them off equipment. He doesn’t quite understand the customer’s always right mantra. Hell, he doesn’t think the customer is ever right.” He scratched at his cheek where an unusual amount of stubble had been allowed to sprout. Zach was usually the cleanest shaven of the MC.

  “Gets worse. Last week, LJ took him on a debt collection. Good customer. Borrows a shit-ton from the club, never once late on a repayment. Fucking ideal situation. That morning, the dude’s wife was in a minor car wreck. It made him late getting his hands on the cash. He asked LJ to come back in two hours. Rusty went apeshit. Pulled a fucking gun on the guy. Took LJ all afternoon to get my guy to agree to keep borrowing from us.”

  “Goddammit,” Copper spat. This was shit he didn’t need. Between the stolen money and increased meth in town, he had enough garbage on his plate. Last thing he needed was to start babysitting his grown-ass brother. “All right. I’ll get on his ass. Anything else?”

  Zach looked uncomfortable. “Sucker punched Maverick a few nights ago.”

  “The fuck? That’s how Mav got that black eye? The jerkoff told me it was some kinda acrobatic sex injury.”

  They stared at each other and for a moment then the tension dissolved as they chuckled. Leave it to Mav to turn his injury into some kind of kinky sexcapade.

  “Nah, nothing so glamorous, Prez. You know a bunch of the guys went to see Jig’s fight three nights ago. Well, Steph tagged along cuz she loves that shit. And I think she and Mav have some kinda thing going where they try to fuck at each of the fights.” He swiped his hand as though dismissing his own statement. “Anyway, Rust drank enough to float a fucking barge and got a little handsy with Steph. Grabbed her ass and tried to shove his tongue down her throat. She gave him a good knee-to-nuts shot, but Mav got up in his face anyway. Nothing major, just warning him to back the fuck off his ol’ lady. Rust clocked him.”

  “Jesus. I’ll talk to him. Maybe he’s just gotten too used to the way shit’s done in prison.”

  “Fuck that.” Zach’s face grew stormy. “We’ve both known plenty of men, brothers even who came back from the joint. They didn’t act like fucking douche bags at every turn.”

  Zach had a point. “I know he’s always been a little tough to take, but when it comes down to it, he’s as committed to the club as any of us.” Tough to take was a nice way of saying Rusty could be a shit. He’d been that way since he was a child. Copper had bailed his ass out of trouble more times than he could count. But he was blood and had been handed a shit deal most of his life. Guy deserved to be cut a little slack. “Let’s see how this shit goes today, then I’ll find out where his head’s at.”

  Just as Zach began to agree, the clubhouse door burst open, and Rusty made his entrance. He swaggered over to the bar and grabbed a bottle of whiskey. After a long swallow, he made his way to Copper and Zach. “Morning, ladies,” he said.

  Copper frowned. “We got a two-hour ride, brother.”

  “Know it, Dad.” Rusty sucked back another swig of whiskey then let out a resounding belch. “Just a little hair of the dog.”

  “Shit, man, ever think about brushing your teeth?” Zach said, waving his hand in front of his nose. “You look like fucking roadkill. Smell worse.”

  He did. Yesterday’s gray Henley was rumpled, his eyes were bloodshot, and a scraggly beard covered the once smooth skin of his face. Rusty looked like he’d been living on the streets rather than staying at the clubhouse the past few weeks.

  “Had me an epic night, boys. Just rolled outta some chick’s bed about,” he looked at his watch, “’bout ten minutes ago.” He winked. “She had two roommates. Mmm, mmm, mmm,” he said kissing his fingertips like an Italian grandmother appreciating her slow-simmered sauce. “Good fucking night. Not that you boys would understand seeing as how you’re fucking the same old stale pussy—when you can actually talk your ol’ ladies into spreading their hairy legs.”

  Neither Copper nor Zach laughed, but Rusty didn’t notice or didn’t care that his crass humor at their ol’ ladies expense wasn’t appreciated.
<
br />   “Although,” he said, whacking Zach on the back. “I hear your ol’ lady used to get up to some pretty freaky shit back in the day. Way to go, brother. You bagged a wild one. You ever need a hand with her—”

  “All right,” Copper broke in before Zach had a chance to commit homicide. He slung his arm across Rusty’s shoulders. What the fuck was his brother thinking with that below-the-belt-comment? Zach’s fists curled as his mouth flattened with displeasure. The club’s enforcer knew how to control himself, but taunts about Toni’s past were the one thing that could send him off the rails. Years ago, she’d been involved with a motherfucker who took advantage of her and messed her head up. The banger ended up being an enemy of the club and nearly killed Toni not even a year ago.

  In Rusty’s defense, he hadn’t been around to see the devastation Toni went through with Shark. But Zach’s memories were too fresh for Rusty’s taunts. If Copper hadn’t stepped in, shit would have gotten ugly real fast. “Hey, Z, we’ll meet you outside in five.”

  After nodding, Zach trudged outside without so much as a glance in Rusty’s direction.

  “Something I said?” asked Rusty on a laugh.

  Staring at the ceiling, Copper rubbed his beard. “Listen, Rust, you gotta put a lid on that shit. Hear me?”

  “Oh, come on, that fucking pussy can’t take a joke?” He lifted the bottle, but Copper grabbed it before he could drink again. He was seriously considering making Rusty stay behind. They did not need the cops on their asses because his bike was swerving all over the goddamn highway.

  “I’m serious, Rust. Hear you been pissing a lot of the guys off. You gotta tone it down. Shit’s different than it was before you left. Lotta guys got ol’ ladies now. They’re protective as fuck and won’t tolerate your hands-on ways or insults to their women.”

  Rusty’s eyes narrowed, and he seemed to grow a few inches as his stance stiffened.

  Jesus, was he gearing up for a fight?

  “Giving me orders, Cop? This little lecture coming from my brother or my President?”

  An ache formed behind Copper’s eyes. He didn’t have time for this shit. Getting Shell out from under Joe’s thumb was the problem of the day. Rusty’s behavior would have to wait. “Does it matter? Just want you happy and back with your family. Come on, let’s table this for now. We gotta move out if we’re gonna get there in time, and I’m sure as hell not walking in late.”

  The ride took a little under two hours. Thankfully Rusty managed to keep his bike pointed in the right direction the entire trip. They made sure Rusty rode between him and Zach just to be sure.

  Copper had no problem meeting on Joe’s turf mainly because he didn’t want the asshole in Townsend or anywhere he’d risk running into Shell.

  The initial plan had been to put pressure on Joe. Get him to return the money collected from Shell. After some debate, a new idea came to light. Ragnar wouldn’t let the debt slide and wouldn’t return Shell’s money without a fight. A fight the Handlers didn’t need. Not with Lefty crawling out from whatever rock he’d been hiding under and getting back in business. The club could use Joe’s help. Pissing him off wouldn’t get that help. So, they’d have to give the man what he wanted to get what they needed. The enemy of my enemy is my friend and such shit.

  Last night, the club voted almost unanimously to cover the debt Shell’s father incurred and reimburse the money she’d already forfeited to Joe. Rusty had been the only one to shoot down the vote. Said they shouldn’t be cleaning up bitches’ messes. Even after reminding him the debt wasn’t actually Shell’s, but the club’s prior president’s, he stuck to his guns.

  Whatever the fuck was going on with him, it was bleeding into club business and had the potential to fuck with Copper’s personal life as well. Not that he’d let it. Blood brother or not, Shell would be protected at all costs. And getting her to accept money from the club was a battle for another day. He smiled to himself. There were plenty of ways to get her to take the money. Very pleasurable ways.

  After dropping their kickstands, they strode through the dimly lit bar to a back-corner booth as directed by a meathead bouncer. Zach slipped into the booth followed by Copper, while Rusty stood guard near the bar, arms folded across his chest. Normally Zach’s role, but he didn’t trust Rust to keep his yap shut. Fucking up this meet was not an option.

  Even though they were ten minutes early, Joe was already seated and had his own muscle lingering much in the same stance as Rusty. “Copper,” he said with a grin. The smaller man had grown a goatee since he’d last been in Townsend. Darker than the graying hair on his head, it looked dyed, fake. “Can’t say I was surprised to hear from you after running into you at our girl’s house.”

  Our girl.

  Fuck that.

  Copper’s fists curled, but he managed to avoid busting Joe’s teeth. The goal here was to get the fucker off Shell’s back. Not leave with a target on his own. While going home with some of Joe’s pearly whites littering the floor of the bar might feel satisfying, it wouldn’t accomplish the goal.

  “Here.” He tossed a thick envelope on the table in front of Joe.

  One of the man’s eyebrows rose into a triangular point. “What’s this?”

  “Payment. In full. Every cent Shell owes you plus interest as though you continued to collect from her monthly.”

  The other eyebrow met its counterpart. “Bitch must have a mouth like a Hoover for you to go to all this trouble.”

  Across the room, Rusty laughed. Funny how Copper could let Joe’s taunt roll off his back, but when Rusty laughed, he wanted to rip his brother’s throat out. Zach’s foot landed on his. A subtle don’t fucking do it. Copper rolled his shoulders. “We square?”

  With a shrug, Joe said, “Looks like it.” A sly smile curved his lips. “Hell, had I known you’d fork over the cash this easily I’d have come to the club in the first place.”

  That was a pile of bullshit if he’d ever heard one. Joe was far from stupid. Had he darkened the Handlers’ door, he’d have been sent packing with a few motorcycle boots up his ass. He’d played the game well. Gone after what he considered a weak link. Probably figured it was only a matter of time before Shell went crying to the club for help. Then they’d be forced to pay. The end result was the same, but Joe underestimated Shell. Had Copper not discovered her secret, she’d have surrendered every penny from her meager paycheck to clear the debt on her own.

  “Got some other business,” Zach said, speaking up for the first time.

  “Oh yeah? What’s that?” Joe clutched the envelope as though afraid Copper or Zach would snatch it back and make a run for it.

  “Seem to have an uptick in meth sales on our turf over the last few weeks. Got any idea what that’s about?” Zach practically snarled the words.

  “Nope. Can’t say that I do. Ain’t us, boys.” Joe smirked.

  Zach’s snort filled the booth. “Right.”

  Copper held up a hand. “Let’s cut the shit. We ain’t looking to start shit with you guys. You got a guy on payroll called Lefty.” When Joe opened his mouth, Copper slapped his palm on the table. “Don’t fucking deny it. He’s selling in my town. Now, I want two things. I want your shit out of my territory, and I want Lefty.”

  The silence that followed was thick with tension. “Fuck it,” Joe muttered. “Look, I know there ain’t much love between us, but Ragnar has no desire to get on the Handlers’ shit list. We ain’t selling in your town. I make sure of that.”

  “Fuck this,” Zach said. His hands hit the table, and he rose, looming over Joe. “Waste of our time, Cop.”

  “Calm your dog down, Copper. I ain’t finished.” Funny he cared because Joe filled the exact same roll Zach did. Enforcer. The muscle. The beat-down guy.

  “Cool it, Z,” Copper said. Beside him, Zach sat, but his body still held the rigidly of anger.

  “Lefty is one of ours. But he’s under strict orders to stay out of your territory. Like I said, we ain’t looking to start shi
t with your club. Anything he’s doing is on his own. You got my word, I’ll get him to back off.”

  “Your word,” Zach spat as though the concept was hilarious.

  Copper put a hand on Zach’s shoulder, silencing his enforcer. This was why he was president. This was why his men trusted him to lead them. He didn’t lose his temper. He kept a calm head and thought through his actions and words. Not like many of his guys who flew off the handle all too easily.

  “Not good enough,” Copper said. “I want Lefty. Has nothing to do with you or your boss. But I need Lefty delivered to me.”

  Joe tilted his head, an evil grin curling his mouth. “I can get him off your turf free of charge, but anything else is gonna cost ya.”

  With a nod, Copper said, “We’re prepared to work with that.”

  Laughter was Joe’s reply. “You prepared to unload a shipment of meth for us?”

  Copper didn’t find the exchange nearly as amusing as Joe did. “Hoping it won’t come to that. Hoping we can be of service in another way.”

  “Fucking Boy Scouts,” Joe mumbled. Growing quiet, he tossed back the rest of his drink and waved to the bartender for another. “Got a few low-level dealers in your area.” He held up his hand when Zach scoffed. “Not in your town. I fucking told you, that’s Lefty stepping outside his box. These jokers are behind on getting me my cut of what they sold. Was planning on heading down there and busting some heads next week. You boys save my knuckles a few cracks—”

  “We’ll do it,” Zach said before Copper even had a chance to run the potential outcomes through his head. He’d be speaking with his enforcer about that later. He got it, though. Every man in the club wanted Lefty, and most were willing to do whatever the fuck it took to get him. Even push a haul of meth. Copper didn’t plan to let it get that far.

  “How many we talking ‘bout?”

  “Five guys,” Joe said. “Each owes upwards of twenty.”

  Zach whistled. “Not chump change.”