Chapter 8 Cash
CASH
“Jesus, Cash, what’d that bag do to you?”
Hawk’s looking at my bandaged knuckles as I pour coffee. I try not to wince when the hot mug presses against the gauze. Four hours of sleep and my hands feel like ground meat.
“Needed to work some shit out,” I mutter.
“That why you destroyed our only heavy bag at three in the morning?” Bones asks from his spot at the bar. Of course he knows. Man probably heard me stumbling around like a drunk raccoon when I went to bed.
I shrug. “Better than breaking a prospect’s jaw for sport.”
Steel pulls his head back and frowns at me. “Dude.”
“Just an expression, Steel,” I say, patting his shoulder. “Your jaw’s safe.”
“For now,” Bones adds with a smirk.
Steel mutters something about ‘crazy officers’ and goes back to wiping down the counter. Kid works harder than anyone I know, even with all the shit we pile on him. But that’s what prospecting is all about.
“You’re going to need to replace it,” Stone says, appearing in the kitchen doorway like a ghost. “And take it down a notch. We need clear heads today.”
“Yeah, I know.” I flex my fingers, feeling the sting beneath the bandages. “I’ll get a new one right away.”
“You’ll have to use your own money,” Duck chimes in, frying bacon like it’s a normal Saturday and not the day everything might go to hell. “Pretty sure as our treasurer, you know damn well we’re barely breaking even after Summit’s latest bullshit.”
“Says the guy who fucked up an entire order of patches and merch,” Axel adds, snagging a piece of bacon from the tray. “Half the club is walking around advertising we’re a ‘motorcyle’ club.”
Duck’s face reddens as he flips another strip of meat with unnecessary force. “I told you, it’s getting fixed as fast as they can. The manufacturer’s backed up with orders. Besides, we’ve got bigger problems than a missing ‘C’ right now.”
“I fixed mine,” Tank announces, puffing out his chest and turning to display his cut. He’s drawn a crude ‘C’ between the stitching with what looks like a black Sharpie. The letter is lopsided and bleeding into the threads, making the patch look even worse than before.
“Jesus Christ,” Stone mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“What?” Tank looks genuinely confused by our collective groan. “It works, doesn’t it? Problem solved.”
“Yeah, if the problem was ‘how do we look even more ridiculous?’“ Bones snorts. “Now we’re a ‘motorcy-thhhbttt-le’ club.”
Before things can descend even further into chaos, Stone’s voice cuts through. “Church! Ten minutes.”
Thank fuck.
The chapel fills up quick. Stone looks tired—more tired than usual—and there’s a tension in the room that says something’s coming.
“Brothers,” Stone starts once everyone’s settled. “We’ve got a problem. Summit’s getting bold again.”
“What now?” Lee asks, already looking pissed. Anything that threatens the MC threatens Devil’s Bar, and that means threatening his old lady, Kya.
“Bones?” Stone nods to our intelligence officer.
Bones straightens. “Been seeing a lot of new faces around town. Cops, but not our locals. These guys are transfers from neighboring jurisdictions. Three in the last two weeks.”
“That’s not normal.” My coffee turns to acid in my stomach. “Are they replacements or a buildup for something bigger?”
“Summit’s in the council now,” Hawk adds grimly, reminding us all that they funded two candidates who gained seats in the last election.
“Exactly. And that’s not all.” Bones’s scarred face is grim. “They’ve been asking questions. About the club, our businesses, who owns what. They’ve shown a special interest in Devil’s Bar and anyone who works there.”
“Seen them hanging around the garage,” Duck states. “Won’t be long before they’re poking around the bar too.”
“I thought we’d dealt with this shit months ago,” Lee spits. “They should know better than to get within five feet of Kya.” His jaw tightens. “When did this start?”
“Apparently Summit have conveniently experienced a localized form of amnesia. They’ve had cops trickling into town over the last month. But it’s only been this past week that they’ve started making themselves known.”
And now Mercy’s getting phone calls. Coincidence?
“Could be Summit trying a new angle,” Axel suggests. “Can’t force us out with fake violations, so they bring in cops they own?”
“That’s the working theory,” Stone agrees. He turns my way. “Cash, Lee. You’re at Devil’s most nights. Seen anything unusual?”
“Not really,” Lee says immediately, but I choose my words carefully.
“Mercy’s started getting calls that scare her. Won’t talk about it, but she’s jumpy.”
“You think someone’s targeting her?” Lee’s voice has gone deadly quiet.
“I think something’s got her spooked bad.”
Stone nods. “Keep an eye on her. If someone’s targeting people who work for us—”
“They’ll regret it,” Hawk finishes, and there’s a rumble of agreement.
“Anything else?” Stone asks.
“Bennett Construction’s on track,” Axel reports, referring to his in-laws’ business. “No more mysterious delays.”
“Good. Duck?”
“Shop’s fine. Business is actually up,” Duck continues, adjusting his cut. “Guys in our sister charters sending bikes our way to keep us afloat while Summit’s squeezing other businesses.”
“Brotherhood in action,” Stone nods approvingly.
“Good. Mack?”
“Nothing unusual at the gym. But I’ve seen a couple of those new cops coming in for workouts. Keeping an eye on them.”
“All right.” Stone leans forward, palms flat on the table. “Until we know what Summit’s planning, we stay alert. No one rides alone, no one talks to these new cops. Any contact, you report back immediately.”
As everyone files out, Bones catches my arm. “Need to talk to you.”
We wait until the room clears.
“Found something,” he says quietly. “Mercedes Rogers, reported missing from Ailington thirteen months ago by her husband. Divorce papers filed two days before she supposedly disappeared.”
My chest tightens. “Husband? So they are still married.”
“Seems it. Gabriel Rogers. Cop. Fifteen years on the force.” Bones’s expression is dark. “He’s a fucking cop, Cash.”
My blood freezes in my veins. “A cop. Of course he’s a fucking cop.”
Like most of us in the MC, cops were never the good guys in my story.
They were the ones who looked at a bruised kid and asked what I did to deserve it.
Who found me kicking cans in the alley and picked me up for truancy, telling me I was ‘making a big deal of nothing’ when I tried to tell them what my mother’s dealer did.
They were nothing but a bunch of corrupt fucks who were only out for themselves. And now Mercy’s running from one.
“That makes her a cop’s wife, brother.”
My eyes snap to his. “What are you saying? That you think she’s a plant?” It’s like he stabbed me with a broken bottle. “Fuck you, Bones.” I lower my voice, aware Stone might hear us even from the next room. “You think she’s a fucking rat?”
Bones lifts his hands, palms out. “Not what I’m saying.
If she was a plant, she wouldn’t be this messy.
She’d have a script, a cover story, and she’d stick to it.
This...” He shakes his head, the movement quick and sharp, like he’s trying to expel a bad thought.
“This is real. Whatever broke her, it wasn’t for show. ”
My fists unclench. “So what are you saying?”
He digs into the stack of papers he brought to church, slides over a printout from a manila folder.
“Gabriel Rogers put in his transfer to Stoneheart PD three months ago. It was approved last week and he’s somehow already starting this Monday.
Got a squad car assigned to him and everything.
” He slides another page toward me. “Read.”
It’s an internal memo. Gabriel Rogers, decorated officer from Ailington PD, effective transfer date next Monday, special assignment to Summit’s ‘community safety’ task force in Stoneheart.
Right beneath, in the signature scrawl of the new city manager, is the phrase: ‘Summit Holdings priority assignment.’
I stare at the printout. Gabriel fucking Rogers, right there in black and white. His badge number, his new Stoneheart address, his start date. My hands shake. Monday. That’s less than forty-eight hours from now.
“Three months ago,” I say, my brain blanking on anything but the ugly logistics. “Three months is—”
“How old little Rose is.” Bones nods, clearly establishing the same connection I am. “Same night you and Mercy...” He doesn’t need to say more.
The night I had her on that table. The night I was seconds from making her mine. That’s when he started the transfer process. Like he was waiting for me to make a move. Like I’m the fucking trigger.
I scrub a hand over my face. “He’s been watching her. This whole fucking time.” My voice sounds scraped raw, like it belongs to someone else. “He’s been watching us, for months. How the fuck has he been watching us?”
And the worst part? How the fuck did I miss it?
I know exactly how it feels to be watched by predators.
To know someone’s tracking you, waiting for the right moment to strike.
I spent years looking over my shoulder. And now Mercy’s been doing the same thing.
Running from a cop with a badge and connections. No wonder she’s terrified.
Bones pulls out another piece of paper. “Man took a leave of absence a little after he reported his wife missing. As far as I can tell, he’s been holed up in Halli.
It’s the next town over, so it’d be easy for him to move in and out of Stoneheart unnoticed.
Looks like he’s been watching her the entire time she’s been here. ”
“Fuck me,” I mutter, putting the puzzle together. “He’s been close, just… lurking. Waiting for his shot.”
Bones’s gaze is hard. “This guy isn’t just hunting her, Cash. He’s hunting you, too. And, by extension, us.”
A cold, electric wash rolls down my spine. “And now he’s linking up with Summit. He’s going to use the uniform as cover.”
“Wouldn’t you?”
We lock eyes over the table. “You tell Stone yet?”