Chapter Seven
THE TINKLE OF the diner’s bells was as familiar to Saint as his phone’s ringtone.
Not a week went by, hell, not more than two days passed before he was grabbing food or a coffee at Toni’s Diner.
Once a biker-free establishment owned by Zach’s in-laws, who hated the MC, his ol’ lady opened the place to all when she took over, and it was practically a second clubhouse.
“Hey, Saint,” Lindsay called out as she restocked juice glasses behind the counter.
“The other guys are here, usual table.” A few years ago, Lindsey took over as manager of the diner, letting her adoptive mother, Toni, step back from day-to-day operations in her role as owner.
“Mel will be over with coffee and to take your order in a second.”
“Thanks, hon,” he said as he strode straight to the farthest booth against the window. The same table the club’s leadership sat at, as far back as he could recall. Sure enough, Copper, Maverick, and Rocket sat sipping coffee and talking.
Rocket took over as VP of the club almost fifteen years ago when Viper had been killed. Saint never met Viper, but the club had mourned his loss for years. As far as he was concerned, Rocket made a great VP. The guy was steady, thought before he acted, and had a mind for planning and organizing.
“Hey, Saint, thanks for meeting with us on short notice.”
“No problem.” As though he could refuse a call to sit down with the club’s top officers. “How’s Beth settling in?” The cushioned bench whooshed beneath him as he sat next to Zach and across from Rocket and Copper.
The president’s expression darkened. “She’s… okay. Not our usual spitfire. Why? Anything you want to tell me?”
Shit, why the hell had he brought her up?
Because you can’t stop thinking about her and how you left her fucking ex alive when he deserved a pine box six feet under.
He’d dropped her at the clubhouse five days ago with every intention of finding some mindless relief. Instead, he’d ridden straight home, downed half a bottle of Jack, and passed out for fourteen hours.
So much for getting her out of his system.
“Cop, leave him alone,” Maverick said, rolling his eyes. “He did his job and brought her home. She’ll talk when she’s ready.”
Did that mean they suspected something more brewed beneath the surface of Beth’s excuses? Maybe, but they probably weren’t thinking her boyfriend fucking beat her. No way would Copper sit there calm and not murder someone if he did.
Saint shifted as though he could wriggle away from the discomfort while clearing his throat. “Pretty sure she’d cut my balls off if I tried to speak for her.”
That had Copper cracking a grin. “True. My daughter knows how to take men down a few pegs. If there’s one thing I taught her, it’s not to put up with bullshit from assholes.”
Christ, he was going to flip his shit when he found out the truth.
“Right.” Saint ran a hand through his hair.
“Hey there, Saint, these handsome devils said you were coming. What can I get going for you?”
Saved by the waitress. Thank God.
“Hey, Mel. Cinnamon roll waffles for me,” he said to their beaming waitress. She, like the other staff at the diner, wore a light blue T-shirt with the diner’s logo and a denim skirt. Her long, curly hair was tied back at the nape of her neck.
“You got it, sweetie. I’ll put a rush on it, so your meal comes out with the rest.” She placed her hand on his shoulder, letting it linger as she focused on the rest of the table. “Anyone need a coffee refill?”
“We’re good, Mel. Thanks,” Copper said with a nod.
Melody took it for the dismissal that Copper meant it to be. “Sounds good. I’ll be back with your food in a few minutes.”
As she turned away, she let her fingertips trail down Saint’s arm.
“Someone’s hungry,” Maverick said, eyes gleaming.
“Of course I’m fucking hungry. It’s ten, and I haven’t eaten.”
Rocket snorted. “Not what he meant.”
Grinning like the idiot he was, Maverick laughed. “Yeah, I’m talking about Mel. That girl is starving, and I don’t mean for fucking waffles. She’s more interested in the sausage.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Your sausage, to be specific.”
“Your sense of humor froze when you turned fourteen,” Rocket muttered.
Mav shrugged, completely unrepentant. To know and love Maverick was to accept his constant innuendo and out-there personality. God knew how his ol’ lady, Stephanie, put up with him for so many years.
“You hit that?” Mav asked.
“Nah, not my type.”
“What?” Mav glanced over his shoulder at the counter. “She’s fucking cute. Got a great ass, good tits, and clearly wants you. Plus, she’s always so sweet. What the fuck’s not to like?”
“It’s the sweet thing,” Rocket said as he sipped his coffee. “Saint doesn’t do sweet. He’s too fucked up for sweet.”
“What the hell?” He lifted his hands and scoffed. “Fuck’s sake, I’m sitting right here, and I can speak for my fucking self, thank you.”
“Okay, why are you passing up on readily available pussy?”
Well, shit. Melody hit on him every damn time he came into the diner during her shift. She frequently showed up at club parties as well, dressed like a snack, and gave clear signs of her interest. And he’d never gone for it for one particular reason.
“She’s too fucking sweet,” he mumbled, making two of the three men at the table laugh.
“Told ya.” Rocket’s expression never changed.
“You don’t gotta keep her. Have some fun and move on.” Rumor had it, before he met his ol’ lady, Mav was the king womanizer of the MC. Saint had never witnessed it since it happened before his time. All he’d ever seen was the man so obsessed with his woman that he barely gave her a moment of peace.
“A sweet girl will give him sweet fun. Maybe he wants nasty fun.”
A slow grin broke curved Mav’s lips. “That true, Saint? You prefer a bad girl who’s gonna let you do all sorts of nasty shit to her?”
Saint groaned and stared up at the fluorescent lights. No way was he admitting Rocket hit the nail on the head.
“You know, sometimes those sweet girls are closet freaks. The freakiest.”
“All right, can we cut the shit?” Copper broke in. “Give the guy a break. He can pick his own women to fuck. “Long as he stays away from Beth, I don’t give a shit who he fucks or how.”
Awesome. Did that mean he shouldn’t mention the dirty thoughts he’d had about Beth in the shower that morning? Or how he’d stroked himself raw imagining her in there with him, moaning and begging for his cock?
Probably not.
“No worries there, Prez,” he said as his stomach turned over. “Pretty sure none of us are stupid enough to go there.”
Copper grunted.
“All right, I’ll get serious,” Mav said as Melody walked back over with a loaded tray giving off scents of cinnamon and maple.
She deposited the food with quick efficiency and no flirtation this time, reading the change of tone at the table. “Enjoy, gentlemen. Flag me down if you need anything else.”
“Thanks, hon.” Mav wasted no time slathering his omelet in hot sauce. “So what’ve you got for us, Cop?” As soon as the question left his lips, he shoveled in an enormous bite of food in his mouth.
Copper shifted to pull his phone from his pocket. After a few swipes and taps, he laid it, screen up, in the center of the table. “Jigsaw took this last night.”
Rocket must have already viewed the photos because he didn’t lean in the way Mav and Saint did.
“Shit,” Mav muttered as he swiped through the photos of a man wearing a biker cut distributing drugs to various buyers behind a dumpster. “Fentanyl?”
“That’s my guess.”
“Fuck. Last thing we need is an active dealer right here in town.”
“Yeah.”
Saint risked a glance at Copper, who wore a fierce scowl. “Where were these taken?”
“Behind that payday loan place on Wilkshire. He spotted the rider on the highway when he was with Izzy in her car. They tailed him until he set up shop. Said he sold to about five people before they had to leave so Iz could get to work on time.”
“Mav, zoom in so I can see their rockers.” Mav separated his fingers, narrowing in on a back view of the biker’s cut. “What’s that say, Devil’s something. Dominion?”
“That’s what it looks like to me too,” Mav added. He’d abandoned his food and frowned at the phone, entirely focused on the task at hand.
“Yeah, that’s what I came up with. I did a cursory search on them. Not much info. Think they’re based out of Memphis.”
“Hmm.” Mav stroked his chin, one of the few places on his body not covered in ink. “I’ll head to the office and do a deeper dive when we leave.” He owned a security company that specialized in PI work, camera installation, and the like. If information on these guys existed, Maverick would find it.
“I might know someone who could clue us in to who these guys are.”
Copper raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”
Nodding, Saint sat back against the booth and picked up his knife and fork.
If he didn’t start eating, his food would go cold, and nothing sucked more than a piping hot breakfast gone cold.
“Yeah, you all know how I was when Mak and I first escaped the cult. I was an angry fucking kid. I fell in with a shit crowd for a while. Thunder and Mak basically slapped me upside my head, set me right, and helped me get legit work too. Started me repossessing cars, which turned out to be a perfect fit for someone who didn’t mind confrontation and knew how to disappear fast. But I still know a few people from back then.
I’m thinking of one guy in particular who probably shouldn’t be alive right now.
No way would a new supplier fly under his radar. ”
“Think you can get in touch with him today?”
“Probably. As long as he’s not face down in a ditch somewhere.”
“All right. Good. Mav, you get on the computer. Saint, you get with your friend. Hopefully, we can dig up enough dirt to have something to use as leverage to drive them out of town before shit turns violent or people start dropping dead from Fent ODs.”
“Yeah, we don’t need that shit. Next thing we know, we’ll have Feds coming out of our asses. I do not want DEA agents crawling all over our mountains.”
“Ugh.” Mav rested his head back on the bench, staring up. “That always starts a chain reaction. DEA, then ATF, and fucking FBI. Christ, do I hate the fucking FBI.” He scrubbed a hand down his face as he sighed.
Once upon a time, Stephanie worked for the FBI.
After a series of screwed-up events, including Stephanie and Maverick being taken hostage together, the FBI sent her in to infiltrate the MC.
Instead, she fell in love with Mav and almost ended up in a cell alongside the rest of the club.
The FBI hung her out to dry, and she walked away without looking back.
To say Mav carried a bitter grudge would be the understatement of the century.
“Let’s not jump the gun.” Rocket set his fork down as he looked at Mav. “For all we know, these guys are low-level dealers who’ll leave town without a problem. Wait to freak out until we have to.”
“Yeah.” Mav sighed. “You’re right.” He rolled his shoulders, then went back to his food. “That shit gets me riled.”
Made sense. Saint couldn’t imagine being married.
He couldn’t even imagine being in a serious relationship.
Most of the time, he assumed he was too intense to commit to someone else.
He’d go off the fucking rails every time someone looked at his partner sideways, let alone threatened them.
There’d be a pile of bodies in his wake, casualties of his possessive and distrustful nature. What woman would put up with that?
Though he came by most of his issues through nurture rather than nature, growing up powerless to shield his siblings from major abuse turned him into a feral animal when it came to the security and happiness of those he loved.
They dug into their food, eating in silence for a few moments.
Melody came by to refill their cups, and Saint made sure to keep his gaze on his plate and avoid engaging with her.
He liked the woman but had no plans to lead her on or indulge her flirting.
She’d ramped it up lately, and sooner or later, he’d have to have a conversation he dreaded.
As he swiped the last bite of his waffles through a puddle of syrup, Copper’s phone rang.
“Sorry, guys, it’s Shell.” In all the time he’d known Copper, Saint had never seen him ignore a call from his ol’ lady. Prez made it clear his wife and daughter came first. Some would consider that a weakness, but Saint admired the hell out of it.
“Hey, baby,” Copper said as he held the phone to his ear. “Hold on. Slow down.” His expression turned to stone, and his shoulders went rigid. He gripped the phone so hard his fingers blanched. “What?”
That one word, said with such cold lethality, had a shiver running down Saint’s spine.
Instantly on full alert, he shoved his plate away and focused on every detail he could ascertain from Copper’s body language and words.
Mav and Rocket also picked up on the change in mood, abandoning their meals and focusing entirely on Copper.
“Baby, breathe,” Copper said. After a short pause, he continued. “I just need to know two things right now. Is she safe, and is she hurt?”
She? Who the fuck were they talking about? One of the ol’ ladies?
Shell spoke for a few seconds, and while Saint understood why Copper wouldn’t put a call like this on speaker phone, his insides screamed for more information.
“We’ll be there in ten minutes. Tell her she did good, baby. God, I fucking love you too.”
As Copper lowered the phone, his dangerous gaze met Saint’s. His enforcer skills would be needed. He could feel that in his bones before Copper even spoke.
“One of these fucks approached Beth.”
Oh fuck. Ice slithered down Saint’s spine.
“Shell’s bringing her to the clubhouse now.”
He shot out of the booth so fast that a rush of wind sent a pile of napkins skittering to the floor, not that he cared. After tossing a twenty on the table for his meal and tip, he beelined to his bike. His brothers could dine on his exhaust before they caught up. He wasn’t waiting.
Every protective instinct he’d ever had screamed at him to get to her. Now.
Someone was going to die today.