Bear (Exiled Reapers MC #1)

Chapter 1 BEAR

BEAR

“And just how much money did the bar lose last month?”

Maverick ran a hand through his dark faux hawk as he glared at my club brothers.

He might have been my best friend, but at this moment, he carried the weight of being the Exiled Reapers vice president.

I pinched the bridge of my nose and thanked fuck I was the enforcer and not the treasurer.

In our world, the messenger always ran the risk of getting shot.

A collective groan filled the wood-paneled room where we held church.

A sacred space to be sure, but a far cry from the church my parents took me to as a kid.

This was where we conducted business for our motorcycle club.

Today was just officers, which meant the meeting would be faster, but there were less of us to share in Mav’s wrath.

He slammed his fist on the twenty-foot-long table, and the vibration ran from my elbow to my fingertips. With Mav at the helm, it was a wonder the table was still in one piece.

“Is someone taking money from the register? Is that the problem?”

I perked up in my seat. Stealing? From the Exiled Reapers? That was my domain, and I’d happily ferret out the thief. I cracked my knuckles and looked around the room. I hated to believe any of them would steal from family. I hoped Mav was wrong. But if he wasn’t…

“Maybe one of the bunnies?” Tracker, our road captain, suggested.

Mav scoffed, his brown eyes rolling, and he shook his head. “You think one of them could pull this off? There’s only one thing they’re good at, and it sure as hell doesn’t involve the brain cells needed to steal from under our noses.”

Tracker shrugged. “Seems more likely than one of us. That’s all I’m saying.”

Blade cleared his throat. “No one is stealing. Truth is, there’s rarely any money in the register to steal. We don’t have enough customers.”

I shook my head. “How is that possible? There’s always someone drinking from the time we open to the time we close.”

Blade nodded. “Exactly. Brothers are always drinking. Not paying customers. We drink free. The bunnies drink free. We’ve got plenty going out and nothing coming in.”

Oh. He was probably right about that. One of the perks of joining the MC was free drinks at the bar.

Blade continued. “We’ve also got a menu that’s ten pages long and a walk-in refrigerator full of stock that goes to waste when no one orders.”

Mav scowled. “So, what are you saying? We need to pay for drinks?”

Blade shook his head. “God, no. Nothing that drastic. What we need is a bar manager. Someone who can simplify the menu to a few things and keep an eye on the bunnies while they work. And maybe they would also have some ideas to bring in new customers.”

Mav nodded. “The bar hasn’t made a profit since we opened it, but it’s never been this bad. We can’t shut it down, but we also need it to be marginally successful to look legit.”

He had a point. We needed the bar to funnel money from our other, less than legal pursuits.

I flipped the pocketknife in my hand and scanned the men at the table. “Anybody feel like they could run a bar or restaurant? We need somebody we can trust and won’t ask any questions.”

No one raised a hand, which wasn’t surprising. We had a few business owners—Mav owned the gun shop and range where I worked, and Blade ran a home security business. Unfortunately, it looked like the only experience any of us had with bars was drinking in them.

“What about a sibling?” I looked around the room. It would be my responsibility to vet the new employee, and if it couldn’t be a club brother, the next best thing was blood.

Again, no answer.

I sighed. “Old lady?”

Tracker snorted. “You mean Poison? Stitch’s old lady? She just opened her new salon. No way she’d have time for this.”

I turned to Mav and shrugged.

“All right.” He sighed. “We’ll table that for now, but keep your eyes and ears open for a candidate.

If we can’t find someone tied to the club, maybe someone desperate?

So desperate for a job that they’d keep quiet about everything else.

But not so desperate that they would steal or sell our secrets.

Fuck. If you come up with somebody, send them to Bear. Anything else, Blade?”

“Our other businesses are running well. The latest shipment arrived on time and intact, no hiccups. Payment was wired and accounts are healthy. New supplier is working out. Buyers are happy.”

He was vague, but we all understood. In addition to Mav’s backdoor weapons sales, our MC provided shipment protection to a few organizations.

We stood as a neutral party during transport and delivery.

The money was easy, especially with Tracker’s ability to find the quickest and safest routes.

Occasionally there were issues, but we’d earned a reputation for being able to handle issues.

Mav turned to me. “Bear, what news do you have?”

I cleared my throat. “As you know, there’s been an increase in overdoses in Atlantic Shores.

Word from my informant in the police department said there’s a new dealer in town with dirty product.

Considering this is Exiled Reaper territory and no one has come to us for permission to deal, I’ve been looking into it.

Baller and I visited a few clubs, and he was able to get something off one of the waitresses. ”

“Hold on,” Mav interrupted with a grin. “Did you say he was able to get off one of the waitresses?”

I rolled my eyes. Honestly, the guy’s road name should’ve been Playboy, not Baller, but he was the best guy for the particular mission I’d been on. He’d been homecoming king and quarterback of the local high school football team before he blew his knee out in the state championship.

I pulled out the baggie with the pill inside and slid it to Maverick. “This is the ecstasy he got from the waitress.”

He grabbed the bag and his eyes furrowed.

“What the hell? That’s the Diablos MC logo.” He passed the bag to Tracker, and it went around the room, each man cursing before passing it to the next.

I nodded. “Exactly. It’s bad enough someone would come into our territory and start selling drugs. But another MC? They know better. Stamping it with their logo is a bold move. Makes me think this is about more than dealing.”

Mav closed his eyes and nodded. “Like they want to taunt us? Want to tell us they aren’t afraid?”

I rolled my neck, hearing a pop as the tension eased.

“Something like that. The Diablos’ national chapter is out of Kentucky.

They haven’t responded to calls, so we may need to take a road trip to get answers.

I haven’t seen any of their guys in town.

If they’re here, there’s no sign of a clubhouse.

But they’ve got to come out sometime to deal.

I’ve put some brothers on rotation at the clubs and on the streets.

If we can catch one of their crew dealing, we’ll bring him back here for a conversation. ”

“Nice.” Mav smiled. “It’s been a while since I had a good conversation.

” He drummed his fingers on the table and looked at the paper in front of him.

“The last item on our agenda is this weekend’s cookout.

This one is open, so invite your potential recruits.

Our two prospects are almost at the end of their probation year, so we need to get a few more in the pipeline.

We’ll keep things family friendly until the sun goes down, but at that point you’ll want to make sure any innocent eyes are on their way—”

He was interrupted by the ring of a cell phone.

I closed my eyes and lowered my head. I recognized that chime.

It was mine. From the cell phone currently sitting in the back pocket of my jeans.

Which was supposed to be in the bowl outside the doors of church.

We had a strict no cell phone policy. As enforcer, I knew better.

And I was going to have to accept my punishment for breaking the rule.

A maniacal grin spread across Mav’s face.

“Oh, was that you, Bear? Did our head enforcer break one of the cardinal rules of church?” He rubbed his hands together.

“Whatever shall we do to punish you? A good old-fashioned beat down?” He glanced fondly at the bat that hung over the doorway.

“Or maybe something more punitive, like cleaning the toilets for the next month.”

I groaned, unable to say anything in my defense. He was right. I’d fucked up.

“Oh, I know.” He clapped his hands together in mock surprise, as if he hadn’t had this planned all along. “You’re in charge of this weekend’s cookout.”

“I’m… what?” I shook my head. He couldn’t be serious. The club bunnies handled that shit. That’s what they were here for. Besides fucking the brothers, of course.

“Yes, this is perfect.” Mav’s grin grew.

“As Blade said, the bunnies have been doing a shit job running the bar. And you remember the last cookout. All we had were burgers, dogs, and buns. They forgot the sides. The condiments. Even the damn plates.” He shook his head.

“With you in charge, I’m sure we’ll have everything we need, right?

” His smile disappeared and he pierced me with a glare so menacing I’d promise to bake a beef wellington if he wanted.

“Right.” I nodded, sufficiently chastised.

“And don’t forget,” he added, his playful grin back, “Stitch’s old lady is vegetarian, so you’ll need to include veggie burgers and tofu pups.”

I slapped my hand across my forehead. Fuck my life.