Chapter 3
Bull
Just one day, I want to be able to sleep late.
I tell myself that every morning, but the universe always seems to have other plans. Today is no different.
Christ, what the hell are those two up to? I think as I listen to Glenn’s grandsons yelling at each other. They take turns coming over to deal with my livestock, so I have no idea why they’re here at the same time.
Rolling over, I see the message that Rage sent me late last night and grin to myself.
Found the missing kittens.
This could be good or bad. But I already know Rage wouldn’t have messaged me if Alli, the other Kitty Kats, and our package wasn’t located.
“For fuck’s sake,” I bellow when I hear what has to be the two imbeciles outside coming to blows.
Rolling out of bed, I don’t give a shit that I’m bare-assed naked as I stride toward my backdoor. Yanking it open, I let out a whistle loud enough that New York City taxi drivers can probably hear the echo of it and the two teenagers look over at me.
One of them is sitting on the other, mid-punch as the icy wind curls around my body, infuriating me even more than I was a moment ago.
“Not another fucking sound.”
“But…”
I fist my hands and without any intention of doing so, a growl explodes from my chest. Almost comically, both of their jaws drop open knowing that I’ll unleash hell if I need to step outside in this fucking weather.
Slamming the door, I stalk back to my shower. It’s colder than a witch’s tit out so the warm spray of water helps to unshrivel my cock a little, then the thought of Margo wakes him the rest of the way up.
If I didn’t have a full day’s work here, I’d be heading back into town to track her ass down.
My best guess is that Rage clocked her as ‘a girl next door’ type due to her lack of make-up.
Her dark hair made her flawless skin look like buttermilk, which in turn made the blue of her eyes shine even brighter.
I’ve been with beautiful women before, but something about her threw me off center enough that I didn’t think to mention the mailbox situation.
The fact that she didn’t hesitate to admit she didn’t know how to use the tow ropes was a welcome change from all the YouTube experts in the world today.
Until I get her in my bed, I honestly can’t think of any other woman I’d even want as a placeholder. Not even my hand, right now. I want to fuck her lips, pussy, then her ass. After that, I’ll get on with my life.
Grabbing a towel, I hear the incessant buzz of my cell phone and reach for that.
“This better be good news.”
Rage knows me well enough not to snort at my greeting.
“Everything’s rosy. They’re hunkered down until we decide what to do.”
“I’ll be there in a couple of hours, and we’ll discuss next steps,” I inform him, reading between the lines.
We got lucky this time, but this shit cannot happen again. Getting dressed to go outside to evaluate what I need to repair my storage shed, I mentally start making a list. Alli and the others will need to be dealt with.
Considering Frost has probably got the girls locked down somewhere, being smart enough not to be caught with a truck load of hostages, I know I could just let him deal with all of them. Quick and easy.
Except, I’ve got a few prospects that have yet to participate in the darker end of our business and I think it’s time that at least two of them get their hands dirty. We’re getting close to a vote on them, so timewise this actually works out well.
Upon closer inspection, the damage to my storage shed isn’t as bad as it looks. One of the horizontal beams will need to be replaced, and to be on the safe side, I’ll replace one of the posts supporting it, but I won’t need to scrap the whole thing.
The tarp will hold for the most part, so I take a moment to look around at anything that can’t survive the elements.
And that comes down to some boxes my dad had stuffed in here eons ago. Stacking two of them, I get them into the house before returning for the next two. My phone rings and I see that Glenn’s calling and all I can think is that man needs a hobby that doesn't include me.
But I like the old guy and can’t imagine a better neighbor, so I pick up the call.
“I have time to help you with your mailbox if you’re done puttering around your shed,” he says without preamble.
“Glenn, man, you’ve got to point your scope anywhere else except my fucking property,” I reply, knowing he’ll no more listen to me now than the other fifty times I asked him.
“I found some cinderblocks and had the boys load ‘em up. I’ll be there in a few and you can use them to prop up the mailbox until the ground thaws.”
With that he disconnects the call and I head out to grab the other two boxes from the shed. Not sure of what’s in there, I don’t want the elements to eat away at their contents. Then, pulling on my work gloves, I go to meet Glenn at the end of my driveway.
Glenn’s plan isn’t perfect, but it’s better than my approach of bitching about the fucking wreck I have now. I make short work of stacking the blocks around the broken post, then spend twenty minutes shooting the shit with a man I practically consider to be my uncle.
The painful sound of the mail truck laboring its way up the rise has us turning our heads. Glenn throws a hand up in greeting, happy to see Leavers when he comes to a stop beside us.
“Yeah, yeah. Glad you’re getting this fixed,” Leavers says by way of greeting. “We’re due to have a clear few days then it’s looking bad after that.”
Leaning in, he flips through the bundles beside him before handing me a single envelope and then giving Glenn a bundle.
I frown, looking at the envelope that doesn’t have a stamp on it. The flap isn’t sealed so I easily open it and pull the paper out.
“The fuck?” I mutter, seeing a bill for a hundred and fifty bucks. Unfolding the paper, I read the rest of the invoice. “Are you fucking kidding me? What the fuck is this shit?”
The men beside me share a look, before I can verbalize what I’m looking at.
“I’m getting billed for being towed out of a ditch yesterday!”
Glenn and Leavers start asking questions about what happened and how lucky I was to get pulled out without having to call anyone as I stand there sputtering with rage.
“I did everything. She didn’t know what to do,” I growl. For the second time today, I want to track Margo down.
Now it’s for a completely different reason.
All I can think about is that fucking document she had me sign and I’m suddenly turning on my heel. I don’t know who I’m more pissed off at—me for signing something without reading it or her for making it sound like a disclaimer.
“Hey! What about …” Glenn calls after me.
“Not now, Glenn,” I yell over my shoulder before grumbling to myself. “Not fucking now.”
I notice that the roads are carefully plowed as I’m heading down into town. I snort, flipping through scenarios of how to deal with Margo.
When my cell rings, I growl when I see Frost calling my personal phone instead of coordinating through Rage. “I’ve got a plan I want to run by you.”
“I’m heading to town now. I’ll call you back from there,” I reassure him, steamed I’ll have to handle that first.
Hanging up, I text Rage, Look up George Tucker’s address for me.
He’s not getting married again, is he?
The amount of people, mostly wives, that Tucker has had to bury isn’t funny, so I ignore Rage’s question and focus on how to best handle club business.
Walking into the clubhouse, I don’t waste any time relaying my orders. The longer my brothers have to sit on the girls, the worse things will get.
Digging out my newest burner, I call Frost and listen to what he has to say. From what he’s ferreted out, Alli was, indeed, the instigator so her fate is sealed. It’s the thought of killing the other girls that is bothering Frost.
“They’re just dumb kids, really,” he finishes his explanation. “I think if we split them up and get the other Kats going on buses in different directions, Edge could wipe their phones, cloud history, whatever it is, and they’ll just think Alli’s got a bus to somewhere else.”
“Bus stations mean exposure for whoever drops them off. Will they play along and not cause a scene?”
“Blanca and Addie, definitely. Sally’s the only wildcard.”
I pause for a beat, considering my options. “Remind me, does Sally like candy?”
“She does,” he instantly replies.
“Give her candy before you put her on the bus. Just enough so she’s feeling fine, not enough to get her sick.”
“I’m not exactly a pharmacist but I’ll do my best,” he answers, sounding relieved that the body count is staying at one. “I’ll take care of Alli.”
“No, I’m going to send Bronco and Rage down to you with Gaven and Dean. Let them handle the problem, then they get patched,” I tell Frost, knowing the risk we’re all taking with this.
“What about Carson? He’s been a prospect longer than Dean.” Even though he’s older than me, I’m surprised that Frost questions me on this, especially considering that he’s not fond of Carson either.
“There’s something off about him. Let’s cut him loose.” I finally make the decision that I should have months ago.
He’s not complaining, but we both know that some of the others will. Carson’s father was a member, even took a bullet for my old man one time. Maybe it would have turned out differently if he had lived to raise his son, but cancer got him not long after Carson learned to walk.
“I’ll have Rage deal with their car afterwards,” he starts before I cut in.
“Have Bronco handle it. Rage has an errand of his own to run after he gets the shipment to Thunder.”
We iron out a few more details, probably making them more convoluted than we need to but better safe than sorry. Just as I’m about to track down Rage, he walks into my office.
“No chance I can head directly to Kent?” he asks after I lay out what’s expected.
“You still haven’t heard from him? Who’s running the county?” I ask, but he throws his hands up.
“That’s part of the problem; it’s like the entire department left or became mute overnight. No one’s talking to me, not even Joanie and I went to her wedding last year, for fuck’s sake.”
There’s no in-between with Rage. If he likes you, he considers you family. If he doesn’t, you can bet he’s already planned your death and he’s merely waiting for a signal from me to carry it out.
I’m sure he’s been on edge, waiting for our business to be settled before sorting out whatever it is that’s caused Kent to go dark, but he knows club business comes first.
“You want some company?” I already know the answer, but my words are significantly less patronizing than telling him to call if he needs help.
“Here’s that address you asked for,” he says, tapping a piece of paper on the desk and I notice the laughter in his eyes before his next words. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
Considering it’s Rage who said that, I’m grinning when I peer down at it. I can picture exactly where the Tucker house is located and after shooting the shit with the guys for a bit, I head out there.