Chapter One #2
The blonde shifted her gaze, locking eyes with Cleo.
They were roughly around the same age. The girl gave a short wave, but her smile didn’t reach her eyes.
Cleo awkwardly waved and watched them pull out of the lot and head down the road, following her directions.
They’d probably be set up before the sun went down.
The camper was small, so a few would have to sleep in tents.
She cocked her head watching their bumper disappear from sight.
They’d probably be gathered around the fire in lawn chairs enjoying the quiet in a few short hours. It sounds nice.
Her phone pinging knocked her out of her envious haze, and she reached into her pocket.
Wraith: Where are you?
The corner of her mouth curled, and she quickly responded.
Cleo: Hi Wraith! I’m at Burke’s picking up some snacks, but I’m leaving now.
She hit send and immediately texted him again.
Cleo: Oh, one more thing. Tell Joker I grabbed the ice so he doesn’t make an extra trip. See you soon!
She tucked the phone back in her pocket and loaded the last few bags in her trunk. She slammed it closed, and for some reason glanced down the empty road where the campers were headed.
I bet they’ll have a great time.
****
What the fuck?
Wraith clenched his teeth, grasping tightly to his phone.
Why the hell was Cleo doing the prospect’s job?
He eyed Joker behind the bar, clearing glasses from the night before.
The man was slow moving after partying too hard last night, with bloodshot eyes and a pale face.
Not her problem, asshole! He’d have a word or two with him after the meeting.
Until then, Wraith needed to focus on the deal happening in front of him.
This pairing between two clubs wasn’t something either of the Killcreek Drifters or Satan’s Hex had seen coming.
They’d always had decent ties stemming from a common respect between Slater, the president of Satan’s, and his own president, Ace.
They’d done some sales and transports together without any issue. However, this was different.
A year ago, Slater and his VP, Axel, had been arrested and were awaiting trial on a weapons charge.
There’d been enough evidence to lock them up until then.
In most cases, the higher-ranking officers in the club would band together, step in, and follow the lead of the imprisoned President.
As far as Wraith knew, that was how it had been handled.
In the beginning. Then six months ago, Griggs, the Sergeant at Arms, had taken an active role in leadership, making moves and decisions that went against how Slater and Axel ran their club.
And like fucking sheep, their members fell in line.
The Killcreek Drifters MC was a different breed of club.
Loyal to the end. In his time with the Drifters, he, along with most of his brothers, had been locked up at one time or another, including Ace, and Cross, their VP.
There hadn’t been even a whisper of a takeover from any member.
They worked like a well-oiled machine following their orders.
Wraith hardened his glare at Griggs. No fucking honor in this asshole.
He’d appointed himself to the position and wanted to make big, risky moves.
The deal in question had Killcreek providing three times the amount of product.
It was a risk that would cost them. Though Griggs, to his credit, was still trying to negotiate.
Stale-fucking-mate.
This deal was being threatened by greed and entitlement.
“By increasing our order, that gives you over fifty percent more than we’re paying now.” Griggs grabbed his beer, chugging half of it before slamming the glass down on the table. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve, narrowing his gaze. “Was expecting a fair negotiation on this deal, Ace.”
Cross scoffed. “Where the fuck do you think you are? Does this look like a swap meet where you can haggle the price?”
Griggs squared his jaw, sharing a look with another member, Spinner, who seemed to be playing a VP stand-in and had the smarts not to say anything. None of the Satan’s Hex members looked comfortable. And none of you pussies are saying shit. Fucking weak.
Griggs sighed. “You’re asking for more than ten percent of our profit.”
Ace took a drag from his cigarette. “I’m not asking for anything. I’m telling you what the price is. You don’t like it, don’t take the deal.”
Spinner rested his elbows on the table. “Could you at least take our offer to Inez?”
This! That statement alone proved none of these men were equipped to handle negotiations or take on a deal of this magnitude. Go to Inez? What the fuck are you thinking? Wraith didn’t even care to hear the asinine response. He was shutting this bullshit down.
“No,” Wraith snapped, which had a few members stepping away from the table.
The club would oversee the transports and manage the dealers, selling throughout the state, taking a generous cut.
Inez was the biggest manufacturer and distributor in their area.
Killcreek served as the middleman. No one got to Inez without going through Killcreek.
Many tried, but no one had been successful.
Ace laughed, shaking his head. “I take this to her, she’s gonna raise it by fifteen percent. Her cut goes up, so does ours. You think we’re gonna lose money for you?”
Griggs groaned, grabbing the arms of the chair, scowling. “It’ll be hard for us to move the product at that price, Ace.”
The room was silent, and Wraith shifted his gaze between the mouthpieces of the club, Griggs and Spinner.
They shared a look. They were already devising a plan B scenario.
Most people did. Everyone was working in their best interests.
It was about making money. Wraith could respect that.
But the club was in it for the same reason, and unfortunately for them, Killcreek had the upper hand.
“Not my problem,” Ace said.
“What if we handled our own transport?” Griggs countered.
How are these assholes part of a well-known club who’d been in this business for years, and still this fucking stupid?
Satan’s Hex may share the same state, but they had no ownership of territory.
There were three separate groups who ran the state.
The north was covered by Killcreek and Inez.
The central part was run by the Underground, and a faction of the area was Ghosttown East’s territory.
The smallest section in the south was the sole property of the Ghosttown Riders.
Transporting through any part of the state would need permission.
Satan’s Hex would never get it from any of the above.
“You’re welcome to, but that adds another five hours if you’re not cutting through the state.” Ace narrowed his gaze, sending a clear reminder. “Which we both know will never fucking happen.”
Spinner nervously shifted his eyes to the boss and parted his lips. Wraith knew what was coming. They all knew, and Ace wasn’t about to let him finish his sentence.
“We transport through this state. Only us. And you get the same warning as everyone else.” He paused. “If you cross through our state, we’ll find you, take the product, and then we’ll fucking kill you.”
“Ace, just hear me out. From Blacksburg, it’s a straight shot down…”
Griggs didn’t get a chance to finish. He didn’t need to. They all knew the lay of the land and in turn, his desired course for transport. Blacksburg is a straight shot down through Ghosttown.
Ace held up his hand, silencing Griggs. “If I even hear of a fucking whisper that your club was in Ghosttown eating a burger at that shitty little fucking diner? We’re gonna pay you an unexpected visit, locking the doors on your clubhouse with every one of you assholes inside.
” Ace hardened his stare. “And burn it to the fucking ground.”
Yes, we fucking will.
“It’s our specialty.” Gent’s taunting tone only amplified the tension in the room. The only person unbothered was Gent himself.
Griggs, along with the other members, didn’t say a word. Killcreek had a reputation, and they’d lived up to it in every sense. Taking this deal would be a monumental risk with no room for error.
Griggs stood and straightened. “We’ll be in touch.”
Fucking idiot.
Ace took a drag of his cigarette, the smoke circling his face. “Slater and Axel know about this deal?”
Griggs smirked. “They’re not here. We gotta do what we gotta do to keep the club strong.”
“And you think tripling the order is gonna do that?” Wraith asked.
Griggs shifted his gaze to Wraith and shrugged. He’d lost some of the confidence he’d walked in with. “It’ll make us a lot of money.”
And there it was. Griggs, Spinner, and every member of Satan’s Hex standing in their clubhouse had lost sight of what Slater and Axel spent years building.
Cross scoffed, shaking his head. “Then I guess we’re done here.”
The members of Satan’s Hex started toward the door.
This wasn’t even close to done. Without a formidable deal in place, it left them to venture to other avenues.
It wasn’t unheard of for the club to break ties with previous transports.
It didn’t happen often, but occasionally partners parted ways.
However, this was different. They weren’t getting out of the transport business, which meant they’d possibly find another way to move more product.
They weren’t the smartest of men, and if he had to guess, Griggs might call their bluff. That will be a mistake, asshole.
Wraith shared a look with Ace, who gave a subtle nod. When Cross stood, following the men out of the clubhouse, Wraith fell in line beside him. They needed a reminder.
Cross and Wraith walked out the front door and down the stairs.
“Do you need directions on getting outta here?” Cross asked, gaining their attention.
Spinner snorted. “You got one street off the highway. I think we can find our way.”