Chapter 29
CHAPTER 29
B EAST
The trick to being a good president is knowing when to shoot someone in the face and when to bite your fucking tongue. Unfortunately, today I have to bite my fucking tongue. I can’t hurt Boney for destroying the Knights fundraiser. I can’t break down the door and make him eat my gun, no matter how much I want to blow his brains out via the back of his head.
Because as president I have to look at the bigger picture and weigh up every move. Our focus is to take down the Psychos fake phantasia trade and I can’t risk any heat from the law while we’re cutting off the head of that snake.
So Boney will have to wait.
Well, not completely.
I might not be able to hurt the guy.
But I can send him a message to let him know retribution is coming.
Thanks to word on the street, I know he’s hosting the annual St. Boniface Mayor’s Luncheon. An exclusive event where rich people talk about themselves and how great they are, while drinking champagne and eating canapes that cost more than a week’s rent to some.
It’s held on the lawn of his multi-million-dollar estate. An ostentatious mansion with immaculately clipped green lawns and a sparkling pool the size of a football field, all paid for by the corruption he hides so carefully from the town.
In less than an hour, guests will roll up in luxury cars. Out of towners. Investors. Strangers. And they will disappear behind the well-secured walls of the estate and enjoy their canapes and cocktail food in the fresh afternoon air.
Well, according to Boney’s plans.
The Knights, on the other hand, have a different plan.
Right on the dot of midday, a landscaping truck carrying two tons of steaming horse manure pulls onto his street, and despite a lot of arm waving and screaming from the security guards at the gate, it reverses onto Boney’s driveway and dumps the giant pile of manure right in the middle of it.
Flies and shit sprawl across the pristine white cement.
The gates open, and a furious Boney comes flying onto the street, eyes bulging, face red, and his white suit glowing in the sunlight. He starts screaming at the driver who looks unfazed. There must have been a mix up at the depot , he explains with complete apathy, something Boney will have to take up with the boss.
And when he does, Boris, the owner of the company will tell him to go fuck himself. He’s a regular at clubhouse parties and thinks the mayor is an asshole.
The truck drives off, and Boney looks horrified as a pungent pile of shit steams beneath the warm midday sun on his driveway.
“Goddamn it,” he screams.
Hands on hips, he looks around, wandering what to do. He’s got a prestigious list of guests arriving within the hour and we just dumped a giant stink bomb on the driveway.
That’s when he sees us. Sitting across the street on our Harleys, enjoying the show.
He storms over to us looking like he’s about to pop. “You sons of bitches. You think you will get away with this?”
“Think of it as a thank you present,” I say, my gaze red hot behind sunglasses.
“I’ll goddamn sue. I’ll fine you. I’ll fucking —"
“You’ll fucking what, try to run us out of town? Hasn’t worked so far, and the way you’re going, you’ll die trying.”
“Is that a threat?”
“Fucking yes, that’s a threat. Right out of the goddamn horse’s mouth.” I lean my forearms against the handlebars of my bike. “You need to get it into that thick skull of yours that if you fuck with us, we’re gonna fuck you back. Except, we’ll fuck you back repeatedly.”
He steps forward, his voice dangerously low as he barely contains his rage. “I haven’t even started to fuck with the Knights. Do you hear me?”
Grinning, I ignore the threat.
“Smell that, Boney?” I sit up straight and suck in a deep breath of manure stink. “That’s the sweet fucking smell of revenge. I’m sure your guests will enjoy it.”
“You’ll pay for this,” he seethes.
I scoff and start my bike. “Enjoy your tea party.”
While Boney loses his cool on the sidewalk, we roar off into the afternoon, leaving him and his pile of steaming shit behind us.
Obviously, this wasn’t the revenge I was chasing. It’s an inconvenience at the most. But it will have to do while we deal with the bigger fish in the pond. We can’t afford any more heat on us while the situation with the Psychos plays out, and while we hunt down the elusive Mr. Big.
But Boney’s retribution is coming.
Something far more painful.
And there will be nothing but ash left when we’re done.
“It wasn’t as satisfying as blowing his face off but getting under his skin sure as hell feels good,” Lars says as we walk up the ramp from the underground parking garage and into the clubhouse.
“He’ll keep,” I say.
Music drifts down from the bar, and when we pass Bear and Axe on the staircase, I stop them. “What’s going on in the bar?”
“Your girl has discovered a love for Wildfire,” Axe says with a grin.
“Right now they’re doing karaoke,” Bear adds.
“We don’t have a karaoke machine,” Lars says.
Bear grins. “Trust me, they don’t need it.”
Just as he says it, the sound of two drunk women singing out of key floats down the stairs.
Axe pats my shoulder. “She’s gorgeous, Prez. But she sounds like a howling cat when she sings.”
I should take offense to what he says, but he’s not wrong.
Leaving Bear and Axe, we head to the bar, where I find Belle and Annika doing shots and singing along to the jukebox. Seems their date into town was more successful than I anticipated, and they’re up to their eyeballs in Wildfire.
Which tells me something isn’t right.
Belle doesn’t usually drink. She admitted it herself.
So why is she hammered at one o’clock in the afternoon?
The moment she sees me, she throws her arms around me, and her tiny body slumps against mine, soft and supple.
She cranes her head to look up at me. Her eyes glazed. One of them half closed.
Yep, she’s toasted.
I notice the empty shot glasses on the bar behind Belle.
Five of them.
Jesus, no wonder she can barely stand.
“Want to tell me what’s got you drinking shots of Wildfire like it’s water?”
“We’re having a boozy brunch, and your girl is a lightweight,” Annika says. She’s not as drunk as Belle, but she’s on her way.
“Wanna tell me what happened in town?”
“Other than being denied entry into The Village Bakery, nothing much.”
“What do you mean you were denied entry?”
“Oh apparently that’s a thing now. A lot of stores have anti-biker stickers stuck to their windows. The bakery was one of them. When we tried to enter we were told to fuck off. Of course, I’m paraphrasing.”
This has Boney written all over it.
And it pisses me off.
But I know his influence over the town won’t last.
Not when I find the evidence I need to show the town how corrupt he really is.
“Is that how you got the bruise on your cheek?” I ask.
Knowing my cousin, she probably got into a fight over it.
“No, I got that when my boot heel got stuck in a cobblestone and I face planted into the sidewalk.” She holds up a broken fingernail. “I got this when I picked up the sign outside the butcher’s and threw it into the drain because he has three of the damn stickers stuck to his window. Blacklisting fuck.”
“Who else has the anti-biker stickers?”
“Thirteen out of the twenty-one stores.” She slides off her stool and it takes her a moment to find her balance. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go make out with my husband.”
“Which is a mental image I didn’t need right now,” I say as she walks past.
She flips me a middle finger as she leaves the bar in search of Ryder.
I bring my attention back to Belle who has passed out, hanging off my neck.
Lifting her into my arms, I carry her up to our room and gently lay her down on the bed.
She wakes up and looks up at me through heavy- lidded eyes. “I’m going to be such a good old lady.”
She looks cute when she’s drunk and trying to be fierce.
“I don’t doubt it,” I say, removing my cut and hanging it over the back of the chair.
“I’m going to serve my old man like a good first lady.”
I can’t help but chuckle. She’ll probably regret these words when she’s sober. But I’m going to have fun reminding her.
“Is that a fact,” I say, amused.
“Yep, I’m going to be a strong queen.” She sighs and stretches out on the bed. She’s floppy and messy and so damn adorable.
Our eyes meet.
“You know, you can kiss me if you want,” she says.
She parts her dewy lips and all I can think about is kissing the fuck out of them.
And then tasting those tight nipples pressing against her T-shirt.
But I don’t. No matter how much I want to. “How about I take a raincheck.”
She sits up, her hair falling wild around her shoulders. “You don’t want to kiss me?”
Her feelings are hurt.
“Little one, I want to kiss you more than I want to breathe right now. But you won’t remember it in the morning, and I’m not the kind of guy to take advantage of that.”
She pouts. “But I want you to. I want you to kiss me and then I want you to fuck me.”
Fuck.
And I mean, fuuuuuck.
I sit on the edge of the bed and turn her face to look at me. “You don’t really want me to fuck you, and I’m not going to. Not when you’re like this. You need to sleep off the Wildfire.”
I brush her hair from her face and she looks up at me with those big blue eyes. “Will you at least stay with me?”
How can I say no when she’s looking at me this way.
“Honey, there ain’t no other place I want to be.”
She lies down, and I slide in behind her, pulling her into my chest.
I don’t know if I believe what Annika said. That the only thing that happened in town was being denied entry into stores.
But for now, her explanation will have to do.
I could ask Bram to pull up CCTV from town but he’s already working around the clock.
Besides, I have to trust that whatever Belle and Annika aren’t telling me is something I don’t need to worry about.