Chapter 18 - Dash
CHAPTER 18 - DASH
“Got some business to attend to. Can I swing by the club?” I stuck to the protocol. Never share club details on the phone unless in code, jargon I was still wrapping my head around.
Cops tried to take our Bathurst brothers down over the last year, and Castor taught us to be vague in case authorities wiretapped us, giving them no evidence to use against us. He updated the code every two months to prevent the cops from figuring out the meanings and collecting data on us.
“Sure.” Castor sounded pleased that I picked up the practice fast. “Anything I can do beforehand?”
I squeezed my bottle. “Need your brand of skills. Keep the rash off my bacon.” Code for deflecting the cops if they tailed us.
“See you when you get here.” The smile in Castor’s voice accompanied the dead line ending the call. The temporary VP was always up for a challenge and accepted any chance to fuck over the cops.
On our way to Bathurst, a police vehicle slowed, did a U-turn and followed us for a solid twenty seconds before veering off the next road. Castor’s doing, no doubt. Thank fuck, because I nearly shit my pants from worry they were on their way to arrest us for leaving a crime scene, an offense under Australian law. I slowed my heart rate and reassured myself we didn’t have to kiss goodbye to the club.
Before dropping into the Jackals’ Bathurst clubhouse, we made a quick stop at Gable’s magick shop to purchase a cheaper concealment spell to ward off anyone searching for Liv using magical means. Vials tucked in my pocket, I went back to my bike, got on it and started the motor, riding to our destination and parking in the spaces designated for guests.
After a few quick greetings and brief conversations with our Jackals brothers, I left Steele to keep them busy and snuck away to visit Castor in his office. My best friend came to the party with more than his usual one-word answers and grunts.
I rapped my fist on the VP’s door, entering when given permission. Castor was buried in financial ledgers and printouts from the club’s legitimate businesses. Bars, a tattoo parlor, a construction company, a restaurant, among others Slade mentioned. Trades I wished to establish for our club long-term. Step by step, though. Short-term, our goal was to get out of debt.
“What can I do for you?” Castor got up from his seat, enclosing his palm in mine, shaking with a firm grip. He stepped up to the VP role after some shit with Zethan went down. Normally he enforced the club like Beau did for me.
Spicy aftershave tingled my nose, and I restrained the urge to sneeze. My new brother was the kind of guy to take pride in his looks. Clothes with expensive logos and a belt screaming fucking Gucci. Latest season boots and jeans, ripped at his knees and thighs. Face cream for his glowing, golden complexion that I’d wager one hundred dollars he used. Hair clay for his shiny dark locks hanging in loose curls. I wasn’t ashamed to admit he was a good-looking guy. I got my fair share of females checking me out, but this guy belonged in the pages of fashion magazines.
He linked his hands behind his head, elbows raised, doing twists of his torso.
What the fuck? I didn’t come for a yoga lesson with my brother.
“Don’t mind me.” Castor chuckled darkly. “Gotta stretch. My woman gets on my case about bunched muscles. Personally, I prefer the massages and bubble baths, but she can always tell when I don’t stretch.”
Fuck. Mate business. Future arguments to negotiate once I dealt with the major problem overshadowing our pack. Father ruled our house with strict rules and even stricter regime, steering clear of that shit in my household. If Liv and I ever came together as Lunar mates—big if after I threw her in the cell like a damn traitor—our union was going to be one based on mutual decision making and trust. We were nowhere near that. Not by a longshot.
Motorcycle club rules mimicked military style chain of command and order. Structure I was used to, and I didn’t mind it since it revolved around bikes, parties, friends, booze, and wild times. A far call from push-ups and five-mile jogs in the morning or being dropped in the middle of nowhere for combat mission scenarios to train the pack, my brother and me for war.
“Bubble baths?” I quirked a mocking brow. “Pussy.”
“Don’t knock it until you try it. Your woman wet, slick, hot. Your back not the only thing that gets massaged.” His suggestive eyebrows poured molten lava into my dick thinking about Liv naked in the bath with me.
Fuck. What did I come here for? I willed blood to recede from my cock and remember my motivation for the visit. A favor.
I got on with it so I didn’t have to stick around long to watch Castor thrust and stretch his hips. “I need you to work your magick for me and get an enemy charged and kept in prison.”
“Why?” Castor cocked a brow as he dropped into some stupid pose, arms and legs spread wide.
I wasn’t going to get any further without divulging more details to the avatar of Knowledge. “He’s been causing trouble. Harassed two females of a bordering pack this morning, and I intervened and stopped him.”
Castor’s features hardened as if he knew what came next.
“The cops were called.” I raised two palms to assure him. “Don’t worry. We skipped town before they arrived.”
A trail of cold sweat trickled down my collar anticipating his next words, whether he would raise this with the Jackals’ president. “You’re gallant for defending the damsels. But you can’t let it get in the way of club business.”
I liked that Castor was a reasonable guy who assessed all the facts before coming to a conclusion. Thank fuck I went to him with this and not the volatile Slade, who would deck me—or get Zethan to—for this recklessness.
Fuck. On signing the contract for this gig, I promised Slade we would keep our noses clean. Lay low and avoid drawing unwarranted attention to the new start-up since the cops watched our Bathurst brothers’ every move. Impress the new boss and brothers-in-arms. Doing a swell fucking job so far. We had a lot riding on this, and I couldn’t afford to fuck it up for my pack.
“Let me check it out.” Gold shaded Castor’s eyes as he connected to the information his god’s powers granted him access to. I grew up around witches and warlocks, but gods... Demigods... avatars... whatever… took a bit of getting used to.
My body locked on high alert at what else the police report said. I hoped it didn’t report a word about Liv or Heather. It better not mention Steele or me, or our business with the Jackals might be over. More sweat sluiced down my back.
“Nasty guys.” Castor’s voice sounded distant and full of raw, ancient power as if his god spoke through him. “Domestic violence, rape, assault, bribery, theft. Typical gang thugs.”
“That’s them,” I corroborated.
Castor’s eyes snapped back to their amber-brown. “How long do you want them kept behind bars?”
I took a punt. “Indefinitely.”
“Got a bit of history?” Castor smirked. The VP sure liked to dig. A Bloodhound on the trail of a hare. I sure as fuck didn’t want him going through my business any deeper.
Alaric, the Jackals’ road captain, said Castor used to work as a solicitor and convicted gang and triad members and other criminals the government wanted convicted. I guess he assigned the Malices his guilty verdict.
“They’re from a rival pack. They give us trouble from time to time.” Fuck, my collar was soaked.
The VP winced at the stance testing his stiff muscles. “We don’t need any trouble with the club.”
Slade mentioned the same thing. A rival club stole a batch of their drug, sold it and got them into debt. Then the cops stuck their noses in the Jackals’ business this last year. The reason we went to such lengths to train our men to deliver the Jackal’s product and avoid police interference or disruption.
Castor finished his stretch and moved into another. “I’ve deleted the assailant’s statements that mention you or the females.”
Thank the goddess. The baker came through for us as promised.
Castor’s jaw stiffened. “The hiccup is that the police can only hold them for a maximum of forty-eight hours unless they arrest them. I’ve falsified a little arrest warrant in Lithgow that will keep the Bathurst Police busy for a bit.”
Every bit helped. A lot could be achieved within two days. I sent up a prayer to the Lunar goddess to grant us more time.
“Appreciate it.” I offered my best smile, even though my body rattled with nerves. “Happy to repay the favor.”
Castor scrubbed his jaw. “There is one thing I need.”
Favors always came with a price. “Name it.”
“There’s a flower that I need that only grows up on the Newnes Plateau.” Not another fucking one that wanted a rare flower. At least this wasn’t a sacred one from The Grove. It was in our territory, which we could get easily.
I stuffed my hands in my jeans. “What does it look like?” I didn’t make it a habit to collect plants. That was a witch or healer’s job, not mine.
My phone beeped in my cut.
“Sent you a picture.” I had to laugh at Castor’s cool ability. What I wouldn’t give to have magick like the Jackals. Shifters weren’t so lucky in that department. The Egyptian avatars were the only ones I knew of that were shifters gifted with magick.
I swung back to the conversation, needing to get out of here and back to Liv. No doubt she was royally pissed with me. I owed her a long apology once this mess was all over. Flowers. Chocolate. Perfume. Jewelry. A fucking overseas trip to Paris to grovel my ass off.
I scanned my phone screen at the small, burnt orange flower. “It’s not poisonous to wolves, is it?”
Castor smirked. “Only if ingested. It’s located on difficult terrain I can’t get to. Thought you could help a brother out.”
“When do you need it?”
“No rush. Next time you’re in town.”
Good. I had enough shit on my plate to cost me the next month sorting out. “Consider it done.”
Castor walked me to the door. “Let me know if those assholes cause you any more trouble.”
Conflict with the Malices was certain. When, was a matter of time. This small window I bought myself wouldn’t last forever, and I had to be prepared.