by Jen Davis
“I know you’re the boss.” She startled at Robby’s voice behind her, then she turned to face him. His big brown eyes looked troubled.
She tilted her head, waiting for him to continue.
He furrowed his brow. “I love my job, and I know I’m taking a risk by saying this, but Kane is my friend.” He cleared his throat. “I scheduled him at the other house today because I knew you would be here. It, um, upsets him to see you.”
This guy had some unexpected fortitude. It took some epic balls to have a conversation like this with her. She raised her eyebrow.
His cheeks pinkened. “What I’m trying to say—what I was wondering—are you, could you maybe give me a heads up when you’re coming? Then, I could assign him to something else.” Robby couldn’t be more than twenty-two or twenty-three years old. With his shuffling feet and his bangs falling into his eyes, he could have passed for a teenager.
She should have resented his nerve, but she couldn’t help but be a little impressed. The guy was obviously apprehensive as hell, but Charlie always said, It isn’t courage if you’re not afraid. “What do you think Kane would say if he knew you were talking to me like this?”
Robby blew the hair out of his eyes, giving her an unobstructed view of his defiant glare. No fear now. “I don’t care. He needs somebody to look out for him.”
She smiled despite herself. “Yes, he does.”
Robby blinked rapidly as she patted him on the shoulder. It wasn’t clear whether he noticed she never gave him the promise he asked for. There was no chance for him to object either way.
Jared had arrived. He shook hands with Mike and followed suit with Xander and all the guys in the crew. When she approached, he greeted her with a warm smile. “Miss Griffin, so good to see you.” He gave her hand a firm squeeze. “I have a photographer here to take some PR photos for our website.”
The woman snapped a few shots. Everyone exchanged pleasantries about the partnership, then Jared left as quickly as he’d arrived. The job here today was done.
As she waited for Mike to finish his goodbyes with Xander, she felt a prickle of unease on the back of her neck. Was someone watching her from the copse of trees across the street?
She spun around, trying to catch whoever it was in the act, but she saw nothing. Even after berating herself for her obvious paranoia, she couldn’t stop herself from looking over her shoulder one more time as she got in the car.
Nothing.
Shivering, despite the warmth from her wool peacoat, she cranked the engine and threw the car into gear the moment Mike settled beside her. Paranoid or not, she was ready to get out of here, even if an inquisition from her sister-in-law waited at her next stop.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Kane
The meth operation in the clubhouse had progressed even further since the last time Kane had been here. The pool table now served as a work surface for two of his brothers. With his bald head and towering height, no one could mistake Cue Ball for anyone else, despite the surgical mask covering his face. A blender whirred in front of him, powder swishing around inside. A garbage can overflowed with boxes of cold pills on the floor beside him.
Frank appeared to be mixing some of the powder from a plastic bowl with…was that fertilizer? Three partially filled soda bottles were lined up on the table beside him.
He moved deeper into the house where his mom hunched over the kitchen counter, doing some kind of surgery on Double-A batteries. A few more two-liter bottles bubbled on the table where Scott presided with several containers of Lye.
The room smelled like cat piss.
“We’ve got to get all of this shit out of here.”
Scott looked up but didn’t move from his position.
“I’m serious. Where’s Malcolm?”
His mother answered. “Out in the backyard, I think. Didn’t think it would be safe to smoke in here.”
With a roll of his eyes, he ventured out into the cold. Sure enough, his father stood in the carport, smoking next to a portable heater. The coils burned orange in the small box.
“We’ve got to clean up the mess inside the house.”
“Oh?” his father mocked. “Do we?”
“I’m serious.” He moved closer, so he could speak softly. “Someone is trying to set us up. I’ll bet you anything we’re gonna have a raid here. The idea is to put us out of business, so the Soldiers can get a foothold.”
Malcolm stood up straighter. There were few people in the world he liked less than David Bennett or the club president, Billy Meers. “Where did you hear this?”
He’d been dreading the question. His father had made no secret of his disapproval when Mandy had been part of his life. He’d only met her once, but like Scott, he loved to call her Princess Bitch and said Kane was better off once they split. Any intel from her would be dismissed out of hand. But his father would need some source to take his warning seriously.
So he lied. “My friend Brick. The guy who hired us for the Sucre hit. He, uh, said he heard it from a reliable source. I trust him. If he says it’s going down, it will.”
His father scratched at his beard, considering his words. “Meers is behind this?”
“Bennett. I don’t know if Cue told you, but he gave us some shit out at the park the other day too. Thinks they’re entitled to dealing, part of their white crusade or whatever.”
Malcolm took a deep pull from his cigarette, then blew out a cloud of smoke. “When is this supposed to happen?”
“Within the week.” He dug his hands deep into the pockets of his jacket, his fingerless gloves doing little to provide warmth. “We need to clean up now. Find somewhere to store our product and our cash. The guns too. The cops know who we are, so our regular places are out.”
Gritting his teeth, his father tossed the butt of his cigarette on the ground and smashed it under his boot. “What do you suggest?”
To get out of the drug business.
They should have never gone into it in the first place. The truth would do nothing to help his cause, though. It would only start the same argument over again. “A self-storage place could work. Get one of the prospects or the girls to rent one in their name. Something no one can trace back to us. And we need to do it fast, or we’re going to end up in jail.”
Building an argument around keeping his freedom was a language his father understood. Malcolm served a six-month stint on a gun charge once. He’d said a dozen times since then, he’d never go back. “Fine. Let’s get it done.”
He followed his dad back into the kitchen, where Malcolm barked orders for everyone to start cleaning up. Scott scowled, then shot Kane a look that could melt asphalt. “You responsible for this?” He stomped around the table, vengeance burning in his eyes. “You can’t fucking admit I was right about this. Do you have any idea how much money this could mean for us? And you want to throw it all away on some Boy Scout notion about drugs being bad?”
His brother lunged forward, but Malcolm grabbed him by the back of his shirt. “Cut it out, Scott.”
Scott froze in his father’s grasp.
“We got a tip we’re gonna be the target of a raid. We need to get moving and clear out right now.”
“But—”
Malcolm swatted the back of his head. “But nothing. We’ll find out soon enough if the tip was legit. Either the cops show up here and prove him right, or they don’t.” The part about what it would mean if the cops didn’t come remained unsaid.
Mama V pulled down her mask. “It’ll take two or three hours to finish up with the batches we’ve got working now.”
“Use up anything we can’t transport as is.” Malcolm glanced around. “Where are the rest of the boys?”
“We’ve got the last steps going in the chapel. Pete, Scratch, Randy, and Joe are in there. Cue is working with Frank and one of the prospects up front. Everyone else is at their day job.” Scott’s evil eye still trained on Kane. “Ain’t you supposed to be at yours?”
&nbs
p; Any other day he would be, but he cut out early to warn his family.
His father saved him from any more conversation with Scott. “It’s actually a good thing you’re here. I got a call from Ace McClinton. He wants a meeting.”
Scott tried to run his fingers through his tangled hair, but the knots were too strong. A brush every now and then would go a long way. He let out a frustrated breath, then planted on a serene smile. “I’ll go. Since Kane wants to clean house so bad, he can stay here and pack up.”
Malcolm gave a sharp shake of his head. “He wants to meet with your brother. The man was real clear about it. Besides, Kane is the one with a head for business. He can finally use the shit he learned in night school to help the club instead of just walking around thinking he’s smarter than everyone.”
There might have been a trace of a compliment somewhere in there, deep down. Very deep down.
Scott’s hands fisted, his knuckles turning white. He didn’t argue with Malcolm, though. He swallowed whatever words he wanted to say and stalked off toward the chapel.
Mama V scuttled behind him. “SP, baby, you all right?”
Her clucking would only make it worse.
Malcolm’s gaze followed them out of the room before it swung back to Kane. “What the hell are you still standing around for, boy? Go make us some money.”
***
At least he didn’t have to go back to the damn apartment complex. Kane held no misconceptions he wouldn’t have to return there at some point, but anytime he could avoid the burned-out reminder of his past, he considered it a small victory.
He arrived at the café five minutes before the meet time with Ace. It gave him the chance to brave the line which curved almost all the way to the glass door. Who knew so many people spent their Friday night in a coffee shop?
The middle-aged mom in front of him gave Kane a wide berth. She wrinkled her forehead a little as she propelled her two kids in front of her, almost into the generous backside of the woman ahead. The boys squirmed to carve out a little more room, but their mother hemmed them in with her body.
He didn’t blame her; he probably looked like a nightmare. His ponytail reached the middle of his back these days and he’d wrapped a black bandana around the top of his head. No doubt his eyes were bloodshot since his churning brain refused to give him any peace last night. His beard had grown long and ragged. Top it all off with the scar across his face, and Ms. Middle Class probably saw a demon incarnate standing next to her and her kiddies. At least his long sleeves covered his tattoos.
He was used to reactions like hers. For the first time in a long time, though, it bothered him.
The line moved quickly, despite its length, and one of the kids was brave enough to wave at him as his mother ushered him out of the door. He’d just sat down with two lattes when Ace took the seat across the small table.
The guy had dressed a little more casually for this meeting than their last one, but his slacks and dark cashmere sweater still contrasted sharply with Kane’s flannel shirt and jeans. Ace tilted his head toward the two coffee cups. “Thirsty?”
He pushed one of the large mugs toward the club’s supplier. “I got one for you, but if you don’t like lattes,” he lifted his shoulder, “I won’t let it go to waste.” He plucked two packets of sugar from the black plastic square at the center of the table, tore them open, and dumped the contents into his cup. As he stirred, the rich fragrance of the espresso made his mouth water.
Ace chuckled and lifted a blue packet for himself. “I like lattes fine.” He sweetened his drink, then sighed in appreciation with his first sip. With his face relaxed and a smile playing on his lips, he looked like an everyday guy chilling out with a cup of joe. He could be someone’s neighbor or banker or realtor. Not the guy piping a shit-ton of heroin into the community.
But Kane was the guy the moms shielded their kids from. He swallowed down his indignation with a gulp of his coffee.
Setting his drink on the table, Ace gave him an assessing look. “You are one surprise after another, Mr. Hale. No one has ever asked to meet me at a cafe before.” He glanced around the crowded room, his eyes catching briefly on the dry erase board declaring:
EVERYTHING IS BETTER WITH CHOCOLATE. TRY A MOCHA TODAY.
“It’s a nice change of pace.”
No way did he want to go back to their last meeting place. For sure, he wouldn’t invite this guy anywhere near his own life, which left somewhere public. Someone might have recognized them at a bar or somewhere close to the neighborhood where they sold their product. He used to visit this little café when he was in college. No trace of the club life anywhere for miles.
But Ace didn’t want to meet to talk about any of those things, so he drank his coffee and waited.
When he offered no small talk, the soft look on Ace’s face sharpened. “All business, eh? I wanted to touch base with you on how things are going for the, uh, candy sales for the…church.”
Kane let out a small snort. “The candy sales,” he echoed. “They’re going well. The H—Halloween type stuff isn’t moving as fast as the crack—erjack boxes.” This shit took ridiculous to a new level. “I’d say we’ve probably sold half of what you gave us.”
“Half?” Ace blinked. “Quite impressive. You move faster than I expected.”
“Pretty basic supply and demand. No one’s been filling the void and people are hungry. We’ve changed the pricing system and expanded the distribution from the earlier operation…folded in some of the college bars. College kids love candy, too.” The club’s pretty boy, Frank, now sported a clean-shaven face and had a costume from American Eagle to wear when he hit the college bar circuit. He was bringing in cash, hand over fist.
Ace’s eyes twinkled. “Yes, they do, Mr. Hale. Kudos to you for considering it. I like the way you think outside of the box.”
Whatever. Becoming a successful drug dealer had never been high on his to-do list. “We’re also making some of our own stuff, and it’s moving pretty well. The ingredients are cheap. Not a lot of time in the kitchen, but it’s keeping everyone busy enough.”
“You don’t like it.”
He didn’t bother to lie. “No. It’s profitable, but it’s messy. The whole thing is messy, but cooking brings it to a whole different level. I can see why you don’t fool with it.” He drained the last of his latte. “It’s not up to me, though.”
Ace was silent for a moment, then spoke quietly. “What if it was?”
The man had said, himself, he was a businessman. The old-school variety, it seemed, with his own kind of code of honor. And he clearly saw something in Kane he found intriguing.
Dangerous as he was, something about Ace made him feel like he could speak freely. Maybe that was part of his skillset.
Walk into my parlor said the spider to the fly.
“If it was up to me, we wouldn’t be doing any of this. We’re tempting fate, and it’s going to come back and bite us in the ass. You seem like you let your guys speak their minds. My family isn’t like your crew. Dissent isn’t an option. And even if it were, my father would be the boss, not me.”
Ace spoke slowly. “You could come work for me.”
He barked out a laugh. “No offense, man, but the last thing I want is to fall down deeper in this rabbit hole.”
Thankfully, Ace didn’t seem ruffled by his honesty. He lifted his hand, palm up. “Get out, then. I barely even know you, and I can see you’d rather go straight, so do it. I can always find a new distributor.” He shrugged like it was no big deal. “Take it from someone who knows firsthand. Your life is what you make it. If you don’t like it, make it into something else.”
“It’s not so simple.” Of course, he wanted to get out. Hell, he’d never really wanted in, but after everything went down with Mandy, the club felt like the only safe place. Stupid, but his head and his heart didn’t always see eye to eye. The club had never been and would never be safe, but he did have family there, and they’d held him tog
ether when he thought he would shatter into a thousand tiny pieces.
“It is simple. You’re the one making it complicated.” Maybe the man could have been a motivational speaker in another life. Ace pursed his lips and leaned forward. “I’m not trying to tell you how to live your life, because, hey, I’m not exactly on the PTA, man. But I am a little older and maybe a little bit wiser, so let me say this. It’s not gonna get better. The situation you’re in? It’s not going to change unless you change it. Bottom line, either you modify your organization or you modify your circumstance. You can’t be a passive participant in your own life, Mr. Hale, not if you want it to turn out a particular way. If you simply follow the current, you can’t be surprised if it doesn’t take you where you want to go.”
He was right. Course, he was right. Still, what Ace suggested was no small thing. Either you’re in the club or you’re out, and if he chose to get out, it meant leaving his entire family behind. There would be no welcome for him as an outsider, not even from his mom. He’d be starting over, completely alone, and the idea terrified him.
I wouldn’t have to be completely alone.
Mandy’s face flashed in his mind, then Brick’s and Robby’s. He had people in his life who cared about him.
Ace’s advice gave him a lot to process, and he wouldn’t come up with an answer at a coffee shop, three feet away from one of the biggest drug distributors in the state.
Thankfully, Ace didn’t wait for a response. He stood and paused with his hand on the back of Kane’s chair. “Think about what I said. In the meantime, it sounds like your boys have a solid system in place. You know how to get back in touch when you’re ready for your next box of chocolate.” He lifted his hand in a brief salute. “Thanks for the coffee, son.”
Son.
He almost laughed at the word, but in truth, he didn’t find it funny so much as a little bit sad. Sure, Ace ran a criminal syndicate or whatever, but the guy actually seemed to be looking out for him. In one conversation, the man had given him better advice than his own father probably had in his entire life. Malcolm wasn’t the kind of guy who would ever win father of the year, but it seemed more obvious now than it had for a long time the man was only interested in looking out for Number One. His wife, his sons…hell, even his club…he considered them all tools to advance his own interests.