Chapter 4
Roman
The numbers swim before my eyes, blurring together after staring at the screen for so long.
I rub my temples, trying to make sense of what I’m seeing.
Something’s wrong with these books; Guzzler’s right.
I can’t put my finger on exactly what, but money’s disappearing somewhere between our legitimate businesses and the club’s accounts.
Not enough to notice at a glance, but too much to be clerical errors.
Guzzler had pulled me aside after church yesterday, his weathered face more serious than usual.
The old man has been with the Devil’s Rejects since my father founded the club, managing our money with an attention to detail that borders on obsessive.
If he says something’s wrong with the numbers, something’s definitely wrong.
“I don‘t like what I’m seeing, Viper,” he’d said in that gravelly voice of his, eyes darting around to make sure we weren’t overheard. “Been tracking this for three months now. Money’s leaking somewhere, but I can’t trace it.”
“Why come to me?” I’d asked. “Why not go straight to Atlas?”
Guzzler had just looked at me, his expression saying everything. “You know why.”
And I did. Atlas had been different these last few months.
More erratic. Less interested in the day-to-day operations of the club.
Everyone knew why. There was a maniac with a grudge trying to get to Naomi, and despite our best efforts, we still hadn’t been able to track him down.
But lately, I’ve had the feeling there was something else eating at him, and whatever it was had him distracted.
Either way, it’s not the best time to come to him with vague suspicions.
“Let me look into it,” I told Guzzler. “If we find something concrete, we’ll take it to him together.”
Now, staring at these numbers, I’m starting to see what Guzzler was talking about.
It’s not just the garage. The strip club we own on the edge of town shows the same pattern: revenue that doesn’t match the reported customer numbers, expenses that seem inflated.
Our gun shop, too. Small discrepancies, spread out over multiple businesses.
Clever. If you weren’t looking for it specifically, you’d probably miss it.
But who would have access to all these books? The list is short. Atlas, obviously. Diesel, as sergeant at arms. Guzzler, who brought this to my attention. And—
A hand lands on my shoulder, and I nearly jump out of my skin. I whip around, ready to strike, only to find Naomi standing there, her red curls wild around her face, a smirk playing on her lips.
“Jumpy tonight, Viper?” she asks, amusement dancing in her eyes.
“Jesus, Tech,” I say as I try to calm my racing heart. “Make some noise next time.”
She laughs, the sound sharp in the quiet room. “Where’s the fun in that?” Her eyes drift to the computer screen. “So what’s got you so distracted?”
I hesitate, not sure how many people I want to share my suspicions with until I have concrete proof of something going on. The last thing I need is rumors spreading.
“Just looking at some of the books for Guzzler,” I say finally, deciding on a version of the truth. “He’s worried there might be some accounting errors.”
“If the numbers aren’t adding up, Guzzler should have taken that straight to my father.” Naomi says, leaning past me to look at my screen.
I can’t decide if she sounds concerned or if I’m just on edge from everything that’s been going on.
“I think he wasn’t sure if there actually was an error or if he was just missing something,” I shrug, watching her carefully. “No sense bothering Atlas if it turns out to be nothing.”
“Well, I‘m sure you’ll figure it out,” she says, dropping into the chair next to mine, her knee brushing against my thigh as she settles in. “You always do.”
I turn back to the screen, uncomfortable with her proximity but not wanting to show it.
Naomi has always been like this: invading personal space, pushing boundaries.
It used to be easier to deal with when she was just Atlas’s kid.
Now that she’s a full member, the dynamics have shifted in ways I’m still adjusting to.
Naomi is quiet for a few minutes, her eyes tracking my movements as I flip through spreadsheets. Then she leans back in her chair, letting her head drop back and closing her eyes.
“You ever think about the future of the club, Viper?” She asks suddenly without looking up. Her voice is casual, as if she were asking me about the weather.
“What do you mean?”
She shrugs, sitting up again. “I mean, do you ever think that the Rejects could be… more?”
I glance at her, uncertain where this is going. “More what?”
“More everything.” Naomi’s eyes are bright now, animated. “More powerful. More respected. More… feared.”
I chuckle, though it feels forced. “Why would we want that?”
“Think about it,” she says, spinning her chair to face me fully. “We’re stuck in this tiny town, running the same businesses we’ve been running for decades. We’ve got what, maybe fifty members? Other clubs have hundreds, even thousands.”
“And ten times the heat,” I counter. “More members means more chances for someone to fuck up, bring the law down on all our heads.”
She waves this away as if it’s nothing. “That’s just poor management.
With the right leadership, the right strategy—“ She cuts herself off, then continues more carefully. “I’m just saying, there could be so much more money in expanding our territory, our operations. And respect. Wouldn’t it be something if the Devil’s Rejects were the club that others feared crossing?
If we were the biggest, baddest club in the state? ”
I lean back, studying her. This isn’t idle talk. She’s been thinking about this, planning it even.
“Sounds like a lot of trouble for not much benefit,” I say finally. “We start expanding our territory too much, we’ll end up bumping into Drago’s Inferno, and only an idiot picks a fight with them.”
The Drago’s Inferno MC out of Billings has a reputation that keeps even the most ambitious clubs in check.
They are large and have connections that run deep in both legitimate circles and the criminal underworld.
Most of their reputation comes from their previous prez, who wouldn’t hesitate to destroy anyone who even looked at him or his club the wrong way.
Their new prez is said to be fairer, but still absolutely merciless when crossed.
“That’s just it,” Naomi leans forward, her voice dropping despite us being alone. “What if we were the club that others feared crossing? Even the Inferno.”
I stare at her, trying to determine if she’s serious. The look in her eyes tells me she is.
“You’re talking about going to war with the biggest MC in the state,” I say slowly. “That’s not ambition, Tech. That’s suicide. We barely survived going up against Demon’s club.”
“Demon,” she scoffs. “He’s not so tough now, is he? We sent him into hiding; we destroyed his club. And we could do it to the Inferno too. We build up our strength first, form the right alliances. We could do it, Viper. You and me. We could take the Rejects to the next level.”
There’s something in the way she says “you and me” that sets off warning bells. I’ve known Naomi since she was a kid; we both grew up in the club together. She’s always had an edge to her, always been hungry for more. But this is different. This is dangerous.
“The Rejects are fine as they are,” I say firmly. “I’ve got my brothers, I’ve got my wife. I don’t need more territory or more power or whatever the hell it is you’re chasing.”
Naomi’s expression flickers for a minute before she smiles again. “Ah, the plant lady.” She says, leaning back in her chair again. “How is she, by the way? I’m feeling a bit grumpy with her; she got me in trouble.”
“Her name is Kayla,” I tell her, my jaw tightening a bit at her tone. “And you got yourself into trouble, Tech. You know you’re supposed to stick close right now.”
Naomi chuckles at that. “You know I hate being told what to do.”
Before I can respond, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out and glance at the screen. It’s a reminder I set for myself. I need to be home in thirty minutes if I want to have time to shower and change before my date with Kayla.
“I’ve gotta go,” I say, closing the laptop and standing. “We can talk about this another time.”
Naomi stays seated, looking up at me with that same unreadable expression. “Sure,” she says, her voice light. “You know I was just talking crazy, Viper. I know it would never work. Just pipe dreams.”
Something about her too easy acceptance makes me nervous. Naomi Wallace doesn’t give up on anything she wants, not without a fight. The fact that she’s backing down so quickly tells me this conversation isn’t really over.
As I head for the door, I can feel her eyes on me. When I glance back, she’s still sitting there, watching me go, a small smile playing on her lips.
I kick my bike to life, the familiar rumble vibrating through me as I pull out of the lot. I need to get home to my wife, try to repair some of the damage I’ve done these past few days. But Naomi’s words keep echoing in my head.
We could do it, Viper. You and me.
I twist the throttle, pushing the bike faster, as if I could outrun the unease I’m feeling. Whatever game Naomi is playing, I want no part of it.