Eighteen
EIGHTEEN
CHAOS
My phone pings with a notification, and a banner slides down from the top with a new message. Circus sent you an image. I flick my gaze to the house before me and grind my teeth. Fuck it. The phone’s unlocked within a second, the picture enlarged on my screen the next. There’s my girl.
Vanessa looks straight at my road captain, her full lips slightly parted, brow dipped in confusion. I pinch and spread my fingers on the screen, enlarging her outfit. A hooded sweatshirt that’s way too big for her, shitkicker boots, and sheer tights over her inked legs. I zoom in further. Thank fuck. It appeared as though she had no goddamn pants on, but it was just that her black denim shorts barely made it below the hem of the enormous sweatshirt.
Girl saved herself a punishment. Not that the shorts and tights combo is any better. Woman has no idea how fucking sexy it is when she teases at what I know lies beneath.
I smash out a message in reply.
Know where she’s going?
The dots dance without hesitation.
They went to the airport.
I rise from where I’d been leaning against the bike, fingers stabbing hard enough to turn white on the screen.
What do you mean they?
She’s with Marianna.
The absolute fuck? As tempting as hurling my phone down feels, it doesn’t help me keep tabs on the situation if I destroy it.
Why?
Fucked if I’d know. They just picked up some dark-haired woman who was crying on the ground.
Shit keeps getting weirder. I scan the front of Matthias’s house and sigh out my nose. Fucking jaw won’t unlock.
Stay on them and keep me updated.
What are you up to, my little enigma? I move to pocket the phone, yet another chime has me tug it free again.
Circus sends another picture. My breath leaves my lungs long and slow as I pinch and zoom again. Her fingertips rest against her temple, Vanessa’s chin tucked down as she rides shotgun in Marianna’s car. I zoom as far as the fucking phone will allow. Fuck’s sake. I want to see her eyes. To read the echoes of her heart through the fucking windows to her soul. Is she frustrated? Sad? Worried?
“Fuck!” I jam the useless fucking thing into my pocket and march toward the goddamn two-story home before me.
What am I supposed to do now? What does she need? I have to know what she needs; otherwise, I’ll go mad trying to figure it out.
The sooner there’s a camera on the woman, the better.
“Good of you to finally join us.” Matthias drawls from where he stands before his front door.
Crow leans against the porch rail opposite the man, arms folded over his chest. “Sorted your shit out?”
“Yeah,” I bark. “Have you assholes?”
There’s a goddamn F250 parked in our yard that’s currently under investigation by the fire department. If I move it, I draw attention to why. If I leave it there, I risk some nosy fucker discovering the scale of our operations. I mean, sure, one truck ain’t shit in the grand scheme of things. But when I tout the fucking story to the local authorities that we just grow a little green to help the brothers with stress, and then they discover eighty pounds of the shit shoved in a delivery truck… yeah. Do the math.
Weed isn’t illegal anymore, but tax evasion sure is.
“We came to an understanding while we waited,” Crow mumbles. Don’t think I’ve ever heard the fucker use the full strength of his voice. “Need you to okay it.” His gaze slices sideways towards me. The man’s up to something.
Sure. Guess I’ll play along.
“What’d you offer him?” I turn to Matthias, eyebrow raised.
He lifts his chin to fucking square up. “A shift in interests going forward.”
The fuck? “What’s wrong with what we got going on?” The club’s been selling Mary-Jane to his goddamn family for decades. His father was our original drug runner interstate, special hold areas welded into the panels of his eighteen-wheeler.
“Shit ain’t been the same since the stuff went legal,” Matthias states, folding his arms and leaning on the door jam. “You know that.”
“Not stupid. Nope.” As soon as marijuana was placed on the list of legal therapy drugs, growers popped up left, right, and fucking center. Supply flooded the market, and even worse, most newcomers were better set up for legitimate supply deals.
People feel better buying their weed from a well-dressed hipster in an artisan warehouse than a bunch of outlaw bikers in a freight yard.
Go figure.
“A lot of the guys I used to sell to approach these new sellers directly,” Matthias continues. “They get better deals by cutting out the middle man: me.”
“This is my problem, how?” I lift my upper lip in an aggressive sneer and pick at my pointy eye-tooth.
Psychological tricks. They’ll get you places.
Matthias shifts his weight, brow twitching. “It’s your problem because if I can’t afford your shit, who will?”
“Plenty of states where it’s still illegal.” I let my eyelids droop a fraction. Enough he believes I honestly don’t give a shit.
I give a shit. I give a lot of shits.
Fucking weed went legal, and our business got whacked off at the knees damn near overnight. Hence, our potential alliances with the Fallen Aces and Reapers.
“Still ain’t heard you say what you propose to fill the gap with,” I state, raising the volume of my voice as well as my chin.
Matthias wets his lips. He’s a short fucker, stocky, and with thick hands that never fail to fascinate me when he manages to make those sausage fingers roll a joint. “I can get you the names of the guys who torched the loading dock.”
My eyebrows shoot up, and I study the guy for a second before throwing my head back and laughing.
“What’s so fuckin’ funny?” he asks.
Crow grins before explaining. “Man. You stiffed us eighty Gs, and you think a couple’a names will do the job?”
I huff, calming my shit enough to add, “Way I see it, those assholes are your grief anyway.” All humor slides from my face as I step into his goddamn space to growl, “You owe us . It was your fuckin’ beef with the Devil’s Breed that brought their wolves to our door. So it’s your fuckin’ job to sort it out.” I stab my finger into his chest, shoving him back half a step. “You still owe me eighty grand.”
He scrambles for a fucking answer as I turn for the steps, Crow hot on my heels.
“I didn’t get anything for it!”
“Neither did I,” I holler, spinning on the fuck as soon as my feet touch the ground. “We know where you live.” I toss my arms wide, indicating his house. “Know where your wife works, where your kids attend gym class, and where your fucking momma does her grocery shopping.” Last resort—all of them. “Don’t fuck with things you don’t understand.”
My brain picks the least opportune time to flick back to the last time I goddamn said that—Vanessa.
I blink several times, snapping my head to clear the cache.
“You come after me,” Matthias roars, marching his bulky ass toward us, “and I take you down with me.”
“Like to see you try,” Crow murmurs. He lifts his hands, lacing them behind his neck to pop his muscled arms wide.
Again—psychology. Who’s the bigger predator and all that shit.
“You forgetting how much I know about your club?” the short prick taunts, opting to stay on the porch so he’s taller than us. Smart. “You’ll get your money,” he hisses. “When your fucking life insurance pays out.”
“Yeah?” I chuckle, turning to Crow. “You hear that? He thinks I have life insurance.”
Crow crinkles his nose. “Nah. You were too much of a liability for that. Sorry.”
“You’re both real funny,” Matthias drawls.
“Fuckin’ yeah, we are.” I launch myself toward him, scaling the steps in two large bounds to lean right in the asshole’s face. “As funny as you’ll look when I leave you bound naked to a goddamn chair while your house burns down around you.” I tip my head to one side, eyes mad when I throw in a wicked grin for good measure.
He knows I’d do it. I’ve done it before.
Matthias takes a careful step backward. “You want to throw away decades of friendship over this?”
“Oh, no, no, no. Think you’re a bit confused there, buddy. You ain’t no friend.” I shake my head, straightening up. “I don’t do business with friends.”
“Yeah?” Lips in a firm line, he nods in short, jerky movements. “Good to know where I stand, I guess. Imagine what your father would have said hearing you say that.”
“It’s all I can do,” I sass. “Imagine. Since he’s six-foot under.” I flat-palm Matthias’s shoulder, shoving him out of the way. “If you want to discuss opinions, how about you tell me what your wife thinks about this bullshit. Amy’s home, right?” I march toward his front door.
Matthias scrambles after me, attempting to get between me and the entrance.
I block him with a raised forearm and twist the handle, shunting the flat wood panel open. “Honey! We’re home.”
“Get the fuck out of my house.” Matthias’s grubby little hands get purchase on my shoulders from behind, jerking me off balance.
He’s torn away by Crow and shoved against the entrance wall.
“You welcomed your shit into my home,” I growl, taking a step toward where he stands pinned like a bug. “And you think I’d fuckin’ respect the boundaries of yours?” I spin toward the back of the house. “You here, Amy?”
“You touch her?—“
“You think that low of me?” I glance over my shoulder, noting the feral look in my treasurer’s eyes as he runs a finger between Matthias’s eyes and down his nose.
“Get your fuckin’ hands off me.” Our ex-business partner thrashes against the giant’s hold.
I leave them to play and start searching the rooms. “Where you at, girl?”
“What the hell’s going on?” Amy emerges from the laundry, washing basket clutched against her hip. Her gaze slices to her husband, restrained against their wall. A sigh makes her shoulders droop. “What’s he done?”
“He not keeping you up to speed on business?” I lean a shoulder against the doorframe opposite and fold my arms.
“I know he’s been taking calls all fucking hours,” she snaps. “So I assumed things were a little dicey.”
I love Amy. She’s a hard woman. Small and built like a titan, she spends half her time at the local CrossFit gym practicing lifting her husband’s dead weight should the time come. If the asshole hadn’t got her pregnant, she’d probably be an old lady by now; I know more than a few brothers who appreciate a headstrong woman.
“What’s going on with the Devil’s Breed?” I ask, narrowing my gaze. “Thought you guys sorted that shit out?”
She steps back and slaps the laundry basket on the counter before returning to the hallway and glaring at her husband. “You said you’d worked things through with Manic.”
A.K.A James. Her brother.
The reason why she kept away from the Kings. Didn’t want to start beef by aligning herself with a rival club to her brother’s.
“I did,” Matthias gripes. “He said he’d let me pay him back in installments, but then the fucker turned up demanding interest as well. So I told him to get fucked, and he came after the goddamn business.” His pitch rises. “How the fuck am I supposed to pay him back if he takes away my income?”
“How the fuck should I know?” Amy yells. “Perhaps you could have tried not betting more than you had!”
“This is all because you fucking gambled with the asshole?” I call out.
Matthias shrugs. “I thought I was on a streak. It should have paid off.”
“You fucking moron.” Everyone knows you don’t play poker with the Devil’s Breed.
Twenty thousand to enter, and nobody ever walks out a winner. Nobody wants to.
You win—you owe them.
“The fuck, man?” We’ve got no hope in hell of getting our money. “Thanks for clearing that up. Ames.”
She nods. “Appreciate you coming when the kids were at school.”
“Always.” I raise my fist.
She knocks knuckles. “How much does he owe you?”
“Eighty G for a wasted shipment.”
She sighs out her nose.
“What does he owe Manic?”
“One hundred.” She lifts a hand to her brow. “We’ve only got ninety in the house. I can work for the extra ten to clear Manic, but it’ll take me a hell of a lot longer to get yours.”
“It ain’t your issue.” I cross to the entrance and pull Matthias from Crow’s hold. He struggles against me but fails to get my fist out of his shirt. “Tell her you’re sorry.” I shove him toward his wife.
“What for?”
“For being a piece of shit,” I snap. “For disrespecting a good woman and failing your children.”
She lifts an eyebrow, watching her husband for his reaction.
His eyes harden, lips firm.
“Now!”
The asshole jerks, ducking slightly before he turns toward her. “Sorry.”
“Louder.”
“Sorry!”
“For...?”
“Being a fucking failure.” He tosses his hands in the air. “Happy?”
“Nope. What you gonna do about it?” I ask. “Tell her how you’ll make it right.”
“I don’t know!” He drags a hand over his face. “I’ve got both you assholes on me about debts, promising to fucking kill me if I don’t pay, and I’ve got no product to pedal. What the fuck am I supposed to do?”
“Get a job,” Amy answers. “Same as I’ve always done when shit’s got tight.”
“Where?” He scoffs. “Nobody will hire me. Everyone around here knows what I do, and they don’t want anything to do with that.”
“So, drive interstate,” I say. “I don’t care what you do to earn a buck, Matthias, but if you think I’ll clear a debt just ‘cause I feel sorry for your family, you got to be kidding yourself.” I step closer, crowding the fuck against the wall. “We’ve all had to do hard things to survive. At least do it with honor by setting right your wrongs.”
“Honor.” He rolls his lips, nodding. “Rich concept coming from you.”
“You want me to sort him out?” Crow utters.
As tempting as that’d be… “Naw. Amy will do a good job of that.” I turn for the door. “Two weeks, Matthias. You’ve got two weeks to get me five grand goodwill and evidence of a job.”
“Fuck you.”
“Great seeing you as always.”
“Get the fuck out of my house.”
“Ain’t gonna be yours much longer,” I taunt as I cross the threshold. “But sure. Whatever makes you feel like a man, buddy.”
I’ve got much better things to spend my time on anyway.