Chapter Twenty-Two Gambit
Chapter Twenty-Two
Gambit
Amanda climbs off the back of the bike. I walk it back into a parking spot. “Wh- what are you going to do with me?” Her voice shakes.
“That depends on you. Cooperate, and things will go much more smoothly. You’ve already lost control of this situation. I suggest making yourself useful.”
Gasping, she jerks her head up.
“You want me to be some fuck doll?”
I curl my lip in disgust as I climb off. “We need information, not pussy. You know more than you’ve admitted. How long until those people whose secrets you insist on keeping seek your permanent silence?”
Fresh fear blossoms in her gaze.
“You’re safer inside the club than you’d be on the street.”
She purses her lips. “You’re trying to scare me.”
“Just telling you what I’d do. The more we know. The better off you are.”
She bites the inside of her cheek, and I know I’ve got her thinking.
“Let’s get inside.” I place a hand on her shoulder firmly and march her toward the front door. Scanning the crowd, I seek any strange responses to her presence. Most of the looks are filled with curiosity and confusion. All are within a normal range. The door opens, and Knuckles frowns.
“Did you get the message from Stone? You already have one woman here. I get she came in to tend to wounds, but this is a brother’s old lady.” He sneers.
“Check with Stone. This is above your pay grade.”
He steps back, holding the door open. Resentment drifts off him like body odor, sour and gross.
“Believe me, the two of us will be talking.”
“Good, it’s your job after all.”
He balls his hands into fists. I frog march Amanda past him, weaving through the crowded space.
The clubhouse here is smaller than the new one and starting to show its age.
An old, remodeled church they picked up at a song, it’s a mid-sized building with converted spaces where pews once sat, dorms used for worship and meditation by religious figures, and even a stained-glass piece in the room we’d partitioned off with walls to become the church.
We reach the room I’d been given temporarily, and I rap my knuckles on the heavy wooden door.
“Hello?”
“It’s me.”
Locks slide, and the door cracks open. I see the business end of the nine-millimeter I gave her.
“Good girl.” I approve of her precautions.
“What’s going on?” Unlatching the locks, she opens the door and takes in Amanda with a scowl.
“I brought you company.” Nudging Amanda forward, I point to the small desk across the room. “Go sit your ass down and think on our conversation.”
Ro’s eyebrows lift. The woman glances from me to the tall bronze goddess before following my orders. “What the actual, fuck, Gambit?” Ro whispers.
“I need you to watch her like a hawk. She so much as pees, and you need to be in the doorway. Don’t let her get her hands on a phone or computer. Hell, even a window is more than I’m comfortable with.”
Ro’s eyes widen. “Who the hell is she?”
“A liability.”
Exhaling, Ro lowers her head and rubs her closed eyelids. “Boy, you are sure pulling me in deeper by the day.”
“In this room is the safest place for you to be. Don’t come out unless I or Charm come and get you personally.”
“Gambit? Be straight with me, should I be worried?”
“Shit’s hitting the fan. I need you to hunker down and keep that 9. Mill on you at all times. If you feel unsafe.” I pause. “Don’t hesitate to protect yourself.”
“You’re scaring me.”
“It’ll keep you alert. We’re locking this place down, and it’s going to get bloody before everything is said and done. “
“Did you know this before we came here?” Her voice shakes.
“No. This is all coming down the pipeline like floodwater. We’re just trying to deal with it as best we can in real time.”
“I’ll stay put. I don’t want to add to your worries.”
“Gambit?”
I turn to the right and find Charm waiting for me a few feet away. “I’m going to keep you safe, I promise. Lock the door behind me.”
I watch her disappear behind the thick wooden door. The locks click into place, and I give Charm my full attention.
“What’s the vibe?” I walk toward him.
“A mixture of anxious and curious. Can’t blame them. Last time this happened, everything went to hell.”
“That means one of two things. They’re smart and aware, or guilty and stealthy.”
Charm hums. “I figured the same thing. It’s hard to tell either way at the moment.”
“Any of the club members missing?”
“We’ll wait to see who doesn’t show up. It’s early yet ‘cause there’s no telling what they were doing when the call came in.”
“Fair enough. Any members run with Wrecker, so I know who to keep a closer eye on?”
“Yeah. Highway, Roulette, and Zero. They’ve always been a tight group since the prospect days.”
“Those kinds of ties tend to run deep.” I run my hand over the stubble on my chin. “Let’s get some beer flowing, play stupid, and keep things light. I don’t want them catching a whiff of what’s about to happen here. Let 'em stew and see if tongues loosen up.”
“They want to hear from you. They think your appearance and this order are too big a coincidence.”
“I’m on it.”
Walking out into the main area, I stand in front of the bar and release a loud, high-pitched whistle. The talking dies down, and I lean back against the wood, striking a casual pose.
“The boss man is headed down and wanted us to rally for a meeting. That’s as much as I know. In the meantime, sit tight, drink light, and enjoy the peace while it lasts.”
Laughter bounces off the insane acoustics overhead.
Shoulders lower, smiles replace grim expressions, and the air fills with the pop of beer cans and bottles.
With Stone coming, they’ll avoid the hard liquor.
At this point, beer is like water. Moving behind the bar, I grab a tall boy and crack the can.
I approach the older members I know best. Skinner and Widower are posted in stools at the end of the bar.
“What’s going on, fellas?”
Skinner looks over at his bald companion and shrugs. “You tell us, young blood.”
I laugh. “I figure it’s about what’s happening up that way.”
Widower nods, pushing his sunglasses up onto his cueball of a head. Freckles cover his round face, and thick, graying brows give personality to his sun-worn face.
“I thought the same. It’s good he’s addressing it.”
“Yeah?”
“People been whispering that maybe he’s slipping.”
“Huh. What do you think?” I study them both.
Skinner takes a long draw of his beer. “The old ways are done. Between social media, cameras on phones, and the weak constitution of most men these days, shit has to be handled differently.”
“Adapt or die,” I add.
“Exactly. We’re in a transitional period. That’s always rough.” Skinner chuckles huskily. “It’s nothing new. When you’ve been around as long as us, you’ve seen the club cycle like this a few times.”
“’Course not everyone thinks like that,” Widower mumbles.
“What do they think?”
“They’re losing faith in his ability to lead,” Skinner admits, looking away.
I whistle. “Damn.”
“When people get scared, they look everywhere but in the damn mirror,” Skinner adds.
“You think they’re to blame?” I lean against the bar.
“Lots of people got soft. They forgot we’re not a social club.
Hands have to get dirty, and sacrifices need to be made.
If we’re always busy trying to avoid that, this is nothing but a ship with holes in it.
” The passion in his words is palpable. He’s an elder passing down wisdom meant to be protected and applied to the present.
“But that’s just the ramblings of an old bastard with one foot in the grave.” Skinner grins, showing off the gap where his two front teeth should be. “Don’t take it too seriously.”
“I think you’ve lived through enough shit to know what you’re talking about. I’d like to make it to be where you are, so I’ll keep what you said close to my chest if you don’t mind.”
Widower laughs. “That’s why you’re the President so young. Discernment is a gift people have or don’t.”
“I take that as a compliment.” Saluting them, I weave my way to another group.
“Is this him turning over the reins, Gambit?” A younger brother asks. His dirty blonde hair is pulled back into a thick braid. I see fear in his hazel-colored gaze. I take in the patch, Speedy.
“Not to me. My hands are full, and this is too far west for me.”
“This is the only home I have. I don’t want to lose it so soon,” Speedy admits.
“Why would a change of the guard do that?”
The dark-haired brother next to him elbows him in the side.
“Want to share with the class, Minion?” I ask coldly. I don’t like bullies.
“We’ve already been through one cluster fuck with Big Mike. Don’t know how this place would handle a second one.”
“You think the Kings are too weak to handle adversity? Is there a lack of confidence in your club?” I challenge.
“It’s not the club I don’t trust. It’s people.”
“You want to expand on that?”
“Not particularly.”
On a good day, bikers are worse than middle school girls. They gossip, talk shit, and speculate. But his words feel like they come from a different place. Either he’s seen too much shit go wrong in his life, or he’s picked up an inside scoop I need to be brought into the loop on.
“Eventually, everyone will let you down.” I raise my beer in salute and find Zero and Highway playing pool with a few others. I make my way over.
“I’ll play the winner.”
“Be careful, the Cajun is a con artist who’ll take your money,” Bankroll teases. The clean-cut brother with light brown hair, a high-and-tight cut, and a large vocabulary is in charge of the funds. An ex-stockbroker who damned near lost his mind working on Wall Street in New York is a unique case.
“Still sore that you lost our last competition, brother?”
Bankroll flips me off, and I laugh.
“You don’t seem worried about the call,” Zero observes. The olive-skinned man with dark hair and eyes has a melancholy about him that makes me think of the old poets of the 1800s. He has the sunken shapes to his eyes that lend to suffering and heartache.
“What good would worry do?” I grab a pool stick and feign interest in the game between Bank and Highway.
“Blind faith isn’t my style,” Zero says.
“You sound worried.”
“Some people think the old man’s washed up. Between the attack that nearly took him out, the crash out of our last President, and the recent arrest, it’s looking dicey.”
“Oh, you think you could do better?”
“Me?” He laughs. “No.”
I chuckle. “Someone else then?”
He glances around and goes quiet after catching Roulette’s glare.
Interesting.
“Everyone needs to give the guy a break. He’s trying to keep up with a rapidly changing environment. Shit’s not how it was. I think he’s doing a decent job personally.” Bankroll sinks the blue solid confidently.
“Look at the other clubs. They’re willing to do what’s necessary,” Roulette says. The crazy eyed brother with pale skin, eerie pale blue eyes, and a case of alopecia stands out.
“How?”
“They’ve joined forces with cartels and some of the other clubs and smaller organized crime. Both have been trying to get a foothold in different cities in California for a while now,” Bankroll explains.
“That’s like selling your soul to the devil and not expecting him to come to collect.”
“Better than living in fear,” another member behind me says.
“Are we all standing around afraid? ‘Cause I didn’t get that memo.”
Bankroll chuckles. “Not me.”
“Those petty criminals have been desperate to gain notoriety for years. This is the opportunity they’ve been waiting for.” Highway sinks a yellow stripe.
So, the crew doesn’t agree.
“Doesn’t mean there isn’t strength in numbers,” another brother adds.
“Seems like numbers are what’s landing clubs on the police radar.” Brothers go back and forth with the pros and cons of the different options. The growl of bikes in the distance brings all the activities to a halt.