Chapter 2 #2
I shook my head and forced myself to step back, releasing her wrist as I gave her space. “It won’t work. Trust me.”
She bit her lip, looking up at me. Emotions flitted across her expression—sadness, annoyance, frustration.
Disappointment.
“Get some sleep. Drink some water. You’ll feel better in the morning. I promise.”
“Fine,” she grumbled, stepping away before slamming the door in my face.
The bitter heat of my morning coffee bit my tongue as I waited near the clubhouse bar. The others would be dragging ass after the party, but I’d crashed early after taking Kenna home.
Thane’s text before dawn calling an urgent meeting at eight had been a gut punch. No details. That never meant anything good.
Hatchet strolled in first, his legs unsteady and his veins probably filled with more liquor than blood. “Mornin’.”
I nodded at him and then leaned in a bit closer as I peered at the red mark streaking his neck. Typical Hatchet. “You might want to scrub that lipstick off before you start the day.”
Hatchet smirked, saying nothing as he circled the bar for a napkin and some water.
I’d seen him flirt his way out of trouble, into trouble, and through trouble so many times.
But that was Hatchet: all charm and no strings.
He could be texting his next date while still tangled in the sheets with the first with not a single word from his conscience—if he even had one.
The man lived for the chase. He never thought beyond the moment, unless he was planning his next conquest. He wasn’t the type to get attached, and anyone who thought otherwise was setting themselves up for heartbreak.
Maybe that’s why watching him turn his easy charm on Kenna the night before had made my jaw clench. She deserved better than him.
She deserved better than any of the Mavericks.
Reaper’s boots scuffed the floor as he walked in. “How was Kenna when you got her home?”
I stared into my coffee. “Drunk and sad.”
“Eva’s worried. Kenna didn’t answer any of her calls or texts last night.”
I sighed. “She needed space. She probably passed out as soon as she hit her bed. She could barely stand.”
“Thanks for making sure she got home. And for talking to her. I know it’s not something you like to rehash.”
I shrugged stiffly. I never spoke of Rose. I’d buried part of me with her.
But Kenna’s pain mirrored my own. Despite her warm smile and laughter, she had scars and sharp edges like me, and hollow spaces that nothing could fill.
Some wounds just didn’t heal.
Linc approached, his tablet in hand, with Thane trailing closely. Reaper and I exchanged glances, gut instinct telling us shit was about to hit the fan.
Thane moved behind the bar, adding whiskey to his coffee mug before he sat. He sipped the spiked brew as his gaze moved around the table. “There’s no good way to say this. We have a rat.”
I stiffened. “The fuck you mean?”
Linc spun his tablet to face us. “A while ago, I breached a few law enforcement systems. I need to be careful snooping around in there, so I’ve built scripts that flag keywords related to the club. It runs through their databases and emails, plus some third-party vendors.”
“Local or federal?” Reaper asked.
“Both now,” Linc said with pride. “Federal took me a lot longer. I only just got the scripts set up this week. Details were scarce, but it looks like the feds are working on an investigation to nail a Texas club on firearms trafficking.”
“There are a lot of clubs in Texas. What’s the chance it’s us?” I asked.
Linc tapped the screen. “One report mentioned meeting a confidential informant in Conroe. Could be a coincidence.” He shrugged.
I shook my head. “I don’t believe in coincidences. One of our brothers is talking to the feds. Un-fucking-real. A rat.” I spat out the last word with disgust.
Thane’s eyes narrowed. “I want this information to stay between the four of you. I don’t want to believe one of our other officers could be a CI, but it’s happened before. Merrick, I want you to investigate. Quietly. Loose lips sink ships.”
Reaper contemplated for a moment before speaking up. “I’m pausing the deal with the Riot. If the feds are watching, we can’t risk going near the warehouse. And we sure as fuck can’t transport a load of weapons to New Mexico.”
Thane nodded. “Everything we do needs to be squeaky fucking clean for the foreseeable future. Above board, legit business only. Shut down the rest.”
I rubbed my temples. “What about Dixon? He accepted a contract earlier this week. The kill is in New York. With the distance, the risk should be minimal.”
Reaper shrugged. “We already got the wire. Have Dixon finish the job. Just remind him to not fuck it up.”
Thane rolled his eyes. “Fucking mercenary. Pain in my ass. But that payout should be enough to float us for a while.”
Linc typed away on his tablet and then glanced up. “It wouldn’t hurt to let him know we’re facing some heat right now. He needs to be more careful than usual.”
“He needs to be careful, period,” I growled. “Fucker acts like he’s invincible. Like the goddamn patch is an invisibility cloak.”
Reaper took a long sip from his coffee thermos. “Tell him to drive and wear a disguise. We don’t need a flight manifest tying him to New York. It’s a high-profile contract. It’ll make national headlines.”
I nodded. “I’ll talk to him. He was planning to head out on Monday.”
Thane stood and strolled back to the bar, this time pouring Jack Daniel’s into his now-empty coffee cup. “Find the rat and fucking end him.”
I nodded once his way as the rest of the men stood to leave. “Hold up,” I said to Hatchet. “Let’s make a plan.”
Hatchet grumbled. “Too early for this shit. Let’s just shake everyone down and see who sweats.”
I pressed my fingers to my temples to ground myself.
Sometimes I wondered why I put up with him—except I knew precisely why.
I trusted Hatchet with my life, even if he drove me up the goddamn wall with his antics and lack of self-control.
“No. We keep this quiet. We don’t need the rat getting spooked.
Linc will pull the security footage. Phone logs, too.
If they’re smart, they’re using a burner.
But only a fucking idiot would be a rat in our club.
We need to look over the evidence before we bring anyone in. ”
Hatchet rolled his eyes. “While you’re busy playing detective, someone is leaking our business to the feds. Your way is too slow.”
“And your way is too risky. If we spook the rat, he could go underground. Right now, he thinks he’s safe. We keep it that way. We can’t show our hand before we’re ready.”
Hatchet’s eyes hardened. “You always want to play it safe. Risk this, risk that. It’s always about risk with you.”
“Minimizing risk. It’s not just about the rat. The last thing we need is for our brothers to lose faith in each other. Mistrust is a cancer. We do this my way. Quiet and methodical. That’s a fucking order.”
Hatchet scoffed and stood. “Fine. But when your way fails, I’m not holding back.”
He stalked out, and I sat in silence, the weight of the club and the night before heavy on my shoulders.