Chapter 27 #2
Reaper squeezed her shoulder, dipped his head, and said something only she could hear. A second later, she nodded and they both headed toward the back door of the building.
Damn. He’d never known Vi to be agreeable with any fucking man other than her father. And most of the time she ignored the big man, too.
Only, now was not the time to break that shit down.
“Let’s go,” he ordered Zane, Rage, and Chaos. Hopefully, Wheels and Cruz were already inside waiting.
On his way to the meeting room that sat to the right of the club’s private bar, he couldn’t find Kyra and Ledger. Since Phoenix was the closest to him, Zeke asked where they were.
Nix responded with, “She took him into the kitchen to get some real food in his gut. The kid was hoppin’ ‘round like a bunny on crack.”
Good. That would keep them occupied while he discussed the shit that went down with the rest of the officers.
Wheels and Cruz already sat in their spots at the long table when the rest of them filed through the door.
“Someone grab two more chairs,” he ordered.
Chaos immediately turned around and headed back out. He returned a minute later and placed the extra chairs at the end nearest the door.
Zeke settled at the opposite end of the table as everyone else took a seat.
Where to fucking start?
He had gone over everything Russo had said over and over in his mind on that long ride back to Shadow Valley, but he hadn’t come up with any answers.
This was the Mafia they were going to have to deal with, not the fucking Cub Scouts.
For a few seconds, he regretted being the goddamn president.
Everything fell on his shoulders and at the moment, the weight of it all was about to take him to his knees.
Now he wasn’t only responsible for this club.
Having his woman back in his life, in addition to his son, made him more vulnerable.
He wasn’t liking any of this shit one fucking bit.
But this really hammered home the reason his father built the DAMC compound. It was meant to help keep the women and kids safe.
Unless they could expand the club’s retirement village—and that would cost a fucking fortune—his generation might have to create something similar by using the Dougherty farm.
Plus, he knew most of his generation didn’t want to live in the established compound. While the majority grew up in it, unlike the OGs, none planned on living in it until they fucking died.
Down and dirty ’til dead was never supposed to mean living a comfortable middle class life in a gated community while driving around on fucking scooters and in golf carts.
Fuck that shit.
Their motto meant they were supposed to live hard, party hard, and take care of “business” using whatever means necessary. Whether that method was legal or not.
But Zeke’s instinct to protect his family had kicked in and he now understood why his father had done what he did.
His gaze slid down to Vi and Reaper at the other end of the table. He explained, “Didn’t wanna repeat this shit twice.” Once would be enough to infuriate him all over again.
“Totally understandable, cuz,” Vi responded. “I’m glad you’re pulling us in on this so we’re prepared.”
While Reaper said nothing, his stony expression said everything.
And right then and there, Zeke realized that fucker wasn’t afraid of shit. If someone needed to be put six feet under, the man would dig the damn hole and not think twice about it.
If the guy proved himself to be an asset to the club, Zeke would seriously consider patching him in without being a prospect first.
“Whose warehouse was that?” Vi asked. “Who took Ledger?”
“Remember those Sicilian fucks that ‘run’ Pittsburgh?”
Next to him, Rage’s spine snapped straight.
“Holy fuck,” Wheels whispered. “Are you talkin’ about those Mafia motherfuckers? La Caca somethin’?”
“La Cosa Nostra.” Disbelief filled Vi’s face, though she tried to hide it, then her expression quickly changed to one that clearly agreed with Zeke that they were fucked.
“Yeah, them,” Wheels confirmed.
Zeke nodded. “One and the same. Remember when they were usin’ the Demons to traffic their shit from Mexico to Pittsburgh?”
A few curses circled the table.
“Now that the heat from the feds is long gone, they want us to do it instead?” The disapproval in Zane’s voice couldn’t be more clear.
“They would if we wanted to get involved,” Zeke told everyone.
Chaos shook his head. “Fuck that shit. We ain’t gettin’ in bed with La Cosa Nostra. You saw how they dealt with the Demons when they were double-crossed.”
“No fuckin’ shit. Told them they could pound sand.”
To his right, Zane asked, “That’s why they took Ledger? The Russos wanted to make that bullshit deal with us?”
“Took my kid because they knew if they didn’t, I woulda told them to fuck off and not meet with them at all.
But they didn’t take him so I’d negotiate, they took him as a warnin’.
They might notta hurt Ledger this time, but them takin’ him was meant to show me what they could do if we don’t cooperate. ”
“Cooperate with what?” Chaos asked.
“What the fuck does that mean?” Rage growled. “This gotta do with the Souls, don’t it?”
The air went electric as everyone waited for Zeke’s explanation.
“Yeah. The Souls are gonna do for them what the Demons did. And the warnin’ was that we need to look the other fuckin’ way when they’re runnin’ drugs through our territory.”
“Motherfucker! That’s some goddamn bullshit.” Rage dropped his shaved, tattooed head, but his shoulders rose and fell with each pump of his chest.
Like Zeke, Ashton’s personality was the opposite of his father’s. That was why a more level-headed Hawk had made a perfect VP and his son made a better enforcer.
If someone needed a hard lesson, Rage wouldn’t hesitate to teach it.
“What the fuck would we get outta allowin’ that shit?” Wheels was pissed, too.
Zeke shook his head, keeping track of Rage out of the corner of his eye. “Not a goddamn thing. The only way we would is if we became their mules instead of the Souls.”
Silence hit the table.
When Rage’s head popped up, a muscle jumped in his cheek.
“Told them to fuck off, right? For any and all of that bullshit. The fuck if we’re runnin’ goddamn drugs for those motherfuckers.
The fuck if we’re lettin’ an outlaw MC use our goddamn territory as a pipeline for that shit.
” Rage slammed his hand on the table, making a few of them jump.
“This has been our goddamn territory since 1974. Nobody’s gonna tell us how to fuckin’ run it. ”
Zeke didn’t disagree. “Didn’t tell them shit.
Just let them assume we weren’t gonna interfere with their operations.
That’s why I wanted to have this meetin’.
Just ‘cause they think we’re gonna allow that shit, don’t mean we’re gonna allow that shit.
But we need to come up with a fuckin’ solid plan, not a half-cocked one. ”
“For fuck’s sake,” Chaos growled. “We go against them, we’re gonna be goin’ against the Souls and the fuckin’ Mafia. That sounds like fuckin’ suicide.”
“At first glance, sure. But there are plenty of ways to weaken them slowly. Ways that aren’t obvious.”
All eyes turned to Reaper.
But when he had spoken this time, Zeke picked up what might be a slight Southern accent. It wasn’t strong, but it was there, reminding him of Boone and Ghost’s father, Ryder. That former Shadow had always tried to minimize his accent for some reason.
He wondered if Reaper was trying to hide his. And if so, why?
Even so, compared to the rest of them, the former Marine was calm as fuck. That could have to do with not having any personal investment in the DAMC. The only tie he had to the Angels was through the woman sitting next to him. His boss.
Zeke considered that. Grim, Ghost and T-Bone were the other Shadows also wearing DAMC cuts, but they had both grown up around the club since their fathers had been a part of Diesel’s crew.
Like Zeke grew up to fill Zak’s boots. Chance Ryder, Leo Delgado and Ty Walker had also stepped into their fathers’.
“Okay, so we need a plan to deal with this shit,” Zane said next to him.
Zeke turned to his younger brother. “Got any ideas?”
Zane pulled in a breath, stared at the DAMC carving in the center of the table, then shook his head.
“No fuckin’ clue, but comin’ up with a plan in less than five minutes might do us more fuckin’ harm than good.
Like Reaper said, we might have to chisel away at the Souls. One disappears here. Another there...”
“Slowly reducing their numbers might help,” Cruz agreed.
“That’s how the Warriors were handled,” Vi said. “The Shadows took them out one by one when they least expected it. It did get to a point where they knew they were being hunted. That might eventually happen with the Souls, too.”
How they dealt with the Warriors was something they normally didn’t discuss. Especially since offing people didn’t have a statute of limitations. Vi probably wasn’t worried since they were in a closed-door meeting and nobody in that room gave a fuck that those nomads had been decimated.
“Even if we do that, those Sicilian fucks will just get another MC to take their goddamn place. Like those fuckin’ Demons, the Souls will be disposable to them.
The Russos ain’t gonna cry a fuckin’ tear when the Souls’ numbers start dwindlin’.
” Rage was practically vibrating with anger next to Zeke.
“They might care if it slows down their operation,” Zane said.
“Yeah, they might not give a fuck about the loss of some bikers, but the loss of money on the other hand…” Reaper added.
So goddamn true. If the Demons had been disposable, the Souls would be in the same boat, but that meant his own brothers would be, too.
“For fuck’s sake,” Zeke grumbled, scraping fingers through his hair. He didn’t know the answer to their dilemma, and he could see that he wasn’t going to find it today.
“Good thing is our club ain’t in any immediate danger, right?” Wheels asked. “So, even if the Souls start movin’ product tomorrow, we don’t need to act immediately. We can get our shit tight first.”
“How about we make those fuckers pay a toll to run through our area? This way we make some scratch but don’t gotta get caught in a shit storm,” Cruz suggested.
That might be a good fucking idea. They’d earn some scratch without getting their hands dirty. Only, there was a hitch. “Really don’t want the feds, or any kind of pigs, focusin’ on this area.”
“That federal task force didn’t focus on us when they went after the Demons,” Zane mentioned.
“That’s because your father cooperated with them,” Vi reminded everyone at the table.
“Even if he didn’t, doubt they woulda fucked with us,” Zane said. “Our club wasn’t the one involved with movin’ meth.”
“But if the feds didn’t get involved when they did, he woulda hadta do somethin’ ‘bout the Demons.”
What Wheels said was true. Zeke sat back and pursed his lips.
Now that he thought about it, Cruz’s suggestion had another obstacle, and it was a big one. “While it could make us some scratch, thinkin’ if we make the Souls pay us a toll, that ties our club to their drug runnin’. The feds could burn us with RICO charges, too.”
“Didn’t fucking think of that,” Cruz grumbled. “But then, that’s why we have a fucking executive committee.”
“Wheels is right. I don’t think you need to solve this shit tonight,” Vi met Zeke’s eyes across the length of the table. “At least now you know what you’ll be dealing with. I can run this by the rest of the Shadows and see what they think.”
Rage spoke up next. “Forgettin’ somethin’ important.”
Zeke glanced over at him.
“Those motherfuckers touched DAMC property. They took our prez’s woman and kid. Just ‘cause they didn’t hurt them don’t mean they shouldn’t pay for that bullshit.”
“Do you want to send them a message? Or just exact revenge on the down low?” One side of Reaper’s mouth hiked up enough for Zeke to catch it.
Vi shot Zeke a “See? I told you he’d be an asset to the club,” look.
He ignored her smug ass and answered the Shadow. “Would prefer to go with door number one, but that’s gonna put a target on our backs. So, guess we’ll go with door number two.”
Reaper’s lips suddenly curved up in a full-blown smile. “Copy that.”
“All in favor?”
No surprise, that vote was unanimous.