Chapter 3 Monster
THREE
MONSTER
Strolling into the clubhouse the next day, Monster was restless. Both he and Ulf were antsy, but he couldn’t tell why. The last time he’d felt anything remotely like that as an adult was when Taylor had been taken. It was as if his skin was itchy and had shrunk, leaving no room to even breathe.
In hindsight, he should’ve let Diamond blow him when he aimlessly wandered back into his office at the brothel after Carys left, and Diamond had made the offer. But after Carys’s lips on his cock, he just hadn’t been up for it.
That should’ve clued him into the fact that something was up, that she meant … something.
Monster knew his tastes weren’t typical. They weren’t twisted either, just not vanilla. Usually, women like Carys would’ve run screaming. The only ones who pretended to like it were either paid well to act the part, or they wanted a patch so bad that they’d do whatever he’d ask.
It wasn’t genuine though, thereby lessening his enjoyment, but Carys was different. She ate that shit up. He could see it in her eyes. When he ordered her not to swallow, it was like she understood what he’d want next. Not to mention she never protested his hands on her throat.
There was something about holding a woman’s delicate neck and feeling her pulse, her swallow reflex, her breaths, that just did something to him.
It was the trust she placed in just one of his hands.
That level of surrender was heady. Monster wanted to be on the receiving end too, but he’d never trusted anyone enough.
But with Carys? He was definitely considering it.
Carys had gotten off on it too. That realization had him asking her out on a date. Like dinner and a movie shit type of date. Something he hadn’t done since high school when he wanted to get into someone’s pants.
He definitely wanted into Carys’s pants, but there was more to it than that, and it confused the fuck out of him.
“Let’s go,” Prowler ordered, and the officers filed into church. Monster hung back. He was just out of sorts, but when Prez called, there was no excuse for ignoring the dog whistle, so to speak.
Once the door was closed, it was all business. The party, the women, the booze—it was all irrelevant as Prowler gaveled the meeting open.
“First order of business is finances. What are we looking at for the month?”
Boogeyman piped up, as this was his area of expertise. Not that many didn’t already have a finger on the pulse of the individual businesses, but Prez was asking for the accounting as a whole.
“Up sixteen percent overall from last month. The new properties account for some of that, and the rest is just good business practices. One business was down seven percent. It’s the check place.”
That was to be expected. It was little more than a way for their income from the casino to get squeaky clean.
There was the occasional poor sap who wandered in off the street for an advance on his paycheck by taking out a payday loan.
However, down seven meant that the book money was going to get backed up if they didn’t clear up the logjam.
“What can we do about that?” Bulldog asked the room at large for suggestions.
“We could have them sponsor our Christmas charity ride. Meet the donations mile for mile. Could even tap the bar to match that amount too.”
Prowler agreed.
“Do that and give our regulars the unadvertised Christmas penny special. Checks cashed for a penny through the new year and extended payment terms with penny-interest loans for regulars. That should clean some extra green.”
“That’ll clear a lot. Especially during the holidays.”
Their normal rate was staggering. Reporting that but only charging the customers a penny left a lot of room to wash.
“Done,” Boogeyman said. “Also, what do you think about renting one of the open slots to the Kings Toy Drive? Not that we don’t have space already, but, you know, squeaky green.”
Yeah, they knew. The more spots in the strip mall they ‘rented’, the more income they could account for. As it was, four storefronts sat empty in reality but were ‘rented’ by businesses who never missed a payment.
“Great,” Prowler agreed. “Monster, all set for the ride?”
“Yeah, Prez. It’s a go. Chef and I have it in hand.” Prowler nodded.
“I heard there’s a situation with a dicer?” Prez turned to Ghoul.
“Yeah. Not typical. Cliff Lewis, you know the guy who loves craps but dresses like he’s hiding from the paparazzi and smells like his cologne is made of cat urine and hot garbage?”
“He’s been with us for what, a year now?” Prowler asked.
“Yeah. For eight months, like clockwork, he took ten k and always settled within two weeks. Then rinse and repeat. A few months back, he upped his betting to fifty large, and everything was smooth, so we allowed it and allowed another increase. Again, he paid on time. Then he started slipping. Just a little at first. Nothing a quick visit couldn’t fix, but last time he copped an attitude and Golden and I handled it, but now he’s slipped even more. ”
“Interesting. I assume he’s already off the approved list until he’s paid?”
“Of course, which he isn’t happy about.”
“Family? Contacts?” Bulldog asked practically.
Not that they were into hurting families, but Cliff didn’t know that.
“He passed all our checks to even sit down at a table, but digging deeper, his ID is too clean. Not even a traffic ticket, and the name is only a few years old. Can’t find any family to speak of, not for a Cliff Lewis.”
That wasn’t good. A fresh ID was a red flag for sure. One they couldn’t ignore.
“Moving forward, let’s tighten up our initial vetting process. Between my ol’ lady’s brother last year, and now Cliff with a new ID, I think we’re courting disaster.”
Everyone agreed. They loved their way of life and would do what was necessary to protect it.
“I think a more, uh, impactful visit is in order for Cliff,” Kansas added.
“Monster, why don’t you join Ghoul and Bulldog. A new face might be the thing to get him straight. If he comes flush, we vet him again, give him a two-week ban, and then he can come back, but at ten thousand until he earns more privilege.”
A temporary ban and drop in funds was the last chance before someone got banned permanently.
“Next item of business is our incarcerated brothers.” Prowler seemed to age ten years between talking about Cliff and mentioning Hunter and Sleeper.
“Hunter’s in a bad way. The latest ink has all but decimated his wolf, and he—” Prowler got choked up.
They were locked up for the club and that weighs heavily on their Prez.
Sleeper was doing his bid in stride. Being human, it was just time for him.
But Hunter, Hunter was dying. There was no way to sugarcoat it.
A shifter can’t live without his wolf, and a wolf can’t live in a cell.
Guilt washed over Monster. That’s essentially what he was doing to Ulf, just a hell of a lot slower.
Monster could take the cuff off occasionally and give Ulf a break, but Hunter could not let his wolf out in prison.
The world of shifters would be exposed, and they’d be hunted to death or end up in a government lab—or worse.
I’m sorry, Ulf. Are you sure there’s no other way?
After his parents died and Monster tossed all the silver, it was Ulf who convinced him to put it back on.
Mate. Mate will help. Find her. Free me. Free you.
Prez cleared his throat. “He’s been moved to isolation because of recent attempts to harm himself.
Sleeper called right before church. He thinks we should let him go.
With his wolf either weak or dead, it’s just a slow, painful end at best for him.
If, on the chance his wolf isn’t gone, isolation is the best place to ensure the secret stays in that room.
Sleeper can get the means to him, and his fate can be in his own hands, on his terms.”
There was a heaviness that settled in their sanctuary. The shifters in the room knew it was for the best, but that didn’t make losing a brother—even if he wanted it too—any easier.
“All in favor,” Prowler asked somberly.
The ayes were whispered one by one.
After a few moments of silence, Prez spoke again. “Any other business to present?”
Everyone shook their heads, except Kansas.
“Whatcha got?”
Kansas was their go-to guy for shifter information, so whenever he was uncomfortable, they all were.
“Been sorting through the files the vamps gave us and as of now, I can’t find any members of the Domino pack. Everyone who was there, except for Ben, was killed and accounted for. If they’re out there, they got out beforehand.” Kansas’s face fell.
Ben had gone dark a few months before their civil war, and Kansas couldn’t reach him.
Hector’s vamps, who the pack allied with to free themselves from Samual’s rule, found him in the lab completely out of touch with reality and not smelling of wolf.
Apparently, they experimented on him until they killed his wolf, and the result was a complete mental breakdown.
The club put him in a facility to live out his remaining days.
It was a good thing that the evil pack was gone, however, Monster knew Kansas would take it hard. They were his friends, his pack. His own family was decimated by them way back when, and he fled. When he did, others had to take his place, so there was a lot of bad blood there too.
“Keep digging through those files and enlist the prospect to help.”
Kansas nodded.
“Well, if there’s nothing else … go to it.”
Prez gaveled the meeting closed, and they filed out of their sanctuary.
Monster joined Ghoul at the bar to come up with a game plan.
“I say we show up in the wee hours of the morning, catch him when his pants are down. He’ll be more pliable, and we’ll have fewer prying eyes since he lives in a subdivision.”