41. EPILOGUE
“Prez?”
“Where the fuck have you been?”
“Sorry, man, been stuck in solitary for three weeks.”
I grunted, pissed even though it wasn’t Quin’s fault for being stuck in solitary—well, aside from whatever shit he’d done to get punished, that is. “Wondered why you were off grid. Wasn’t sure if you’d been moved.”
“No. I’d have made sure the message got back to you if I had.”
“Speaking of making sure…your sister got that birthday gift I promised,” I hedged, changing the subject.
It was never easy speaking to Sinners who were locked up, but the second a man was patched in as a brother, we all learned the basics for when the shit hit the fan.
Gifts were payments.
We all knew that, when we were inside, sometimes we could do work for the club, even if we were behind bars. It was code for us paying their family the imprisoned brother’s cut for a job or a run.
“Really?” Quin asked, his voice deepening with his interest. “How big was it?”
“Very. I had to put it on ice.”
“Ice? Huh.”
“Yeah. Your sister will be around with some pictures of it in the next few days, I think she said.”
“Yeah,” Quin drawled slowly. “I think she’s due for a visit. Can’t wait to hear all the gossip.”
“Have fun.”
“Yeah, I will.”
“Speak later once you’ve had a chance to see the gift?” I asked.
“Thanks, man. I’ll be in touch.”
“More than welcome. My pleasure.” I cut the call, shot my council a look, and nodded. “Fieri’ll be dead by the end of the week.”