Chapter 49
CHAPTER
FORTY-NINE
LOOT
Sitting on my bike in the parking lot a mile from the Russians’ fancy-as-fuck neighborhood, I close my eyes and let out a sigh. I know that if a cop drove by right now, they’d flip around and pull into this parking lot, asking us what the fuck we’re doing here.
We look fucking lost.
Jeans, T-shirts, cuts, and boots as we straddle our bikes.
Wrath and Dare are on their bikes on either side of me. Then there are Hound and Two-Pump. We all kill our engines and sit in silence, staring straight ahead. Pressing my lips together, I wait for Dare to give us whatever the fuck pep talk he wants to give us.
“We have to play this smart,” he begins. “We got people waiting for us back home, and these Russians wouldn’t think twice about wasting us. Just like we wouldn’t think twice if we felt threatened.”
Two-Pump grunts. “I would feel a hell of a lot better if we weren’t going in there begging for scraps.”
Hound climbs off his bike and walks directly in front of Two-Pump’s bike. I watch as he plants his feet wide, crossing his arms over his chest as he dips his chin and focuses on Two-Pump.
“You think we’re begging for any fucking thing?” Hound asks.
The way his voice booms, my spine straightens a bit because he doesn’t just ask.
He’s demanding an answer. I almost answer for Two-Pump.
He’s that forceful. I catch myself and lean back slightly as I watch the interaction between them.
I feel where Two-Pump is coming from, so I want to hear what Hound has to say.
“You know we are,” Two-Pump spits out. “And it makes me fuckin’ sick.”
Hound shakes his head once. “We aren’t begging for shit, Two,” he begins. “We’re making them an offer. We’re going to be the muscle. We’re going to get a big fat cut, and they’re going to get a finder’s fee. It’s the only way we can make the money we want to make, the money we need to make.”
“All because some of the guys got old ladies? Now we need more money? We were doing just fine before,” Two-Pump states.
“No, we weren’t,” I call out. Two-Pump and Hound’s heads snap to the side to face me.
“We were doing okay, but property taxes are higher, shit costs more money, and we aren’t going to be able to make it much longer.
Some of us have mortgages, some of us have child support, which is going to become increasingly more difficult to afford.
We have about two months left before I gotta start decreasing our cuts, and that’s gonna piss off a bunch of brothers. ”
Two-Pump doesn’t say anything, because he knows I’m right. He’d be fucking pissed if I had to cut his monthly money or if I had to let a couple clubwhores go. The Iron Flame MC has been strong and successful for a long time. We’re not going down without a fucking fight.
And this is our fight.
“Can we go to this meeting and see what kind of terms we can all agree on?” Dare asks.
“Yeah,” Two-Pump grinds out.
He may not agree with who we’re making terms with.
I don’t really care. What we need to do is focus on our family, our club, and ourselves.
We can’t do that when we’re drowning. We don’t have to work with the Russians forever, but I sure as fuck am not going to be sitting around with my thumb up my ass when I have a kid to raise.
Hound walks back to his bike, and I watch as he straddles it, but before we start our engines, I turn my attention to my president. My president, who is married to someone carrying a Bratva baby.
“You think they know who your wife is?” I ask, turning to Dare.
He shrugs a shoulder. “Maybe,” he says. “But they won’t care, not anymore.”
“Why?” I ask.
My brows snap together at his words. I can’t even imagine why they wouldn't care, because his wife is pregnant with one of their guy’s kids. Dare only married her as a favor to her father, who is the president of the original chapter in Prescott, Arizona.
So what the fuck?
Dare is going into this with his own agenda, and I know it shouldn’t bother me, because if I were in his shoes, I’d probably do the same. Not just that, I trust my president. I know he’s not going to throw us to the wolves without a damn good reason.
“We’re going to give them what they want.”
Arching a brow, I wait for him to finish explaining his secondary plan, because clearly, this isn’t just for contacts and burning down event centers or mansions. This is bigger than that. And I’m not going any further until I know exactly what the fuck is about to happen.
“We’re going to run drugs for them.”
If we weren’t outside with traffic and noises all around us, you could hear a goddamn pin drop. I can’t believe he’s just said what he has. I open my mouth to ask him about it, but I don’t need to because he continues.
“It will have an end date. It won’t be forever, but it will recoup some of the money we’ve been needing to make shit run. It’s also something they want. And what better way to get what you want than to give them a taste of what they want?”
I don’t know if I quite believe that, but it seems that’s what he’s going with. “What happens when one of our guys takes the fall for their shit?”
Dare doesn’t answer immediately. He’s been looking straight ahead, but then his gaze shifts over to meet mine. “What happens when one of our guys does a job somewhere other than Boulder City and gets caught on an arson charge?” he counters.
That’s a fair question, and the way he asks it makes me think he’s been thinking about this for a while. He’s probably played out a dozen scenarios in his head over and over, knowing that even if this whole thing isn’t ideal, it’s also the only way we can make it work.
“I trust you,” I state. “Let’s do this.”
I mean everything I’m saying. I do trust him. I always have. Known him my whole life. He’s only two years older than me. He’s my brother, my friend, and my president. He’s got a good head on his shoulders, and if anyone is going to lead us, I’m damn glad it’s him.
“Let’s go talk to some Russians,” Wrath growls.
We start our engines and, one by one, ride our bikes out of the parking lot, following one another and heading straight for the fanciest fucking neighborhood I’ve ever set my eyes on.
Mansion after mansion lines the streets. There’s a lake, too, and some of them have fucking lakefront properties with boat ramps and everything. I couldn’t imagine living like this, and it’s at this moment that I wonder if working with them is going to be such a bad deal after all.