Chapter 17
Seventeen
Dime
Devil, Lee, and I are sitting on the outskirts of Laurel Springs, waiting for Ethan, the leader of the Rebels to meet us.
It wasn't as hard as we thought it would be to get in touch with them.
"You think they'll be on time?" Devil asks, as we all sit on our bikes.
"I'm gonna be real fucking surprised if they even show up," I admit, looking around at our surroundings.
Right when I say that, we hear motorcycles in the distance.
The sound grows louder, and I exchange a look with Devil. Lee's hand twitches toward his cut, and I can see the tension in his shoulders. Kid's nervous, and he has every right to be. This meeting could go sideways in about a hundred different ways.
Three bikes come into view, and I recognize Ethan immediately.
He's in his early thirties, with gray already streaking through his beard and hard eyes that have seen too much.
The two guys with him are younger, both wearing the Rebels patch on their backs.
I don't know their names, and that's probably intentional on Ethan's part.
They pull up about twenty feet away, killing their engines but not getting off their bikes. Smart. Keeps them mobile if this turns into something they need to run from.
"Devil," Ethan calls out, his voice carrying across the distance. "Didn't expect to hear from you."
"Yeah, well, times change." Devil stays seated on his bike, playing it cool. "Thought maybe it was time we had a conversation."
"About what?" Ethan's eyes scan over me and Lee, assessing. "You looking to start a war? Because we can arrange that."
"Not looking to start anything. Looking to make some money, actually."
That gets Ethan's attention. His eyebrows raise slightly. "That so?"
"That's so." Devil leans forward on his handlebars. "Word is you've got product moving through town. Good product. We've got buyers who are interested."
Ethan laughs, but there's no humor in it. "You're full of shit, Devil. You expect me to believe you want to work with us after all the territory disputes we've had?"
"I expect you to be a businessman," Devil counters. "And a good businessman knows that sometimes competitors can be more profitable as partners."
"Partners." Ethan spits on the ground. "That's a fancy word for what you're suggesting."
"Call it what you want. We're interested in making a buy. A real buy, not some small-time shit. And if it goes well, maybe we can talk about a more permanent arrangement."
I watch the two guys with Ethan shift on their bikes. They don't like this conversation, and I don't blame them. The Rebels have been operating independently, and the last thing they want is Saint's Outlaws muscling in on their territory.
"Why now?" Ethan asks, his eyes narrowing. "Why are you suddenly interested in our product? It doesn't have anything to do with that raid on our warehouse does it?"
"Because our buyers are asking for it," I say, speaking up for the first time. Conveniently talking around the warehouse. "And we're not in the business of turning down money."
Ethan's gaze shifts to me, and I can feel him sizing me up. "Dime, right? Heard about you. Quiet guy. Does good work."
"I do alright."
"So what's your angle here? You the muscle if this goes bad?"
"I'm whatever I need to be." I keep my voice level. "But like Devil said, we're not looking for trouble. We're looking for business."
One of the guys with Ethan leans over and whispers something to him. Ethan nods, then looks back at us.
"You're asking me to trust you. That's a big ask, considering our history."
"We're more powerful together than we are apart," Devil says. "You know it, I know it. The cops have been sniffing around both our operations. Wouldn't it be smarter to work together, pool our resources, make it harder for them to take us down?"
It's a good play. Devil's using the truth about the police pressure to make the lie more believable. And from the way Ethan's expression shifts, I can tell he's considering it.
"I don't know," Ethan says slowly. "Seems risky bringing you anywhere near our operation."
"Then don't bring us near it. Just sell us the product. We'll distribute it to our buyers, you get your money, everyone's happy."
Ethan is quiet for a long moment, and I can practically see the gears turning in his head. He's weighing the risks against the potential profit, trying to figure out if this is legit or a setup.
"How much you looking to buy?" he finally asks.
"For starters? Enough to test the market. See what our buyers think of the quality." Devil shrugs. "If it's as good as we've heard, we'll come back for more."
"And if it's not?"
"Then we go our separate ways. No harm, no foul."
Ethan looks at the two guys with him, and some unspoken communication passes between them. Then he turns back to us.
"I'm not willing to bring Saint's Outlaws near our operation," he says firmly. "Not yet. Maybe not ever. Too much risk."
"Fair enough," Devil says. "Then how about a sample? Something small, just to prove you've got what you say you've got. We test it, make sure it's quality, and then we talk numbers."
"A sample." Ethan's jaw tightens. "You want me to just hand over my product for free?"
"Not for free. Consider it an investment. You give us a sample, we confirm it's quality, and then we come back with cash for a real buy. That's how business works."
I can see Ethan struggling with this. On one hand, giving away product for free goes against every instinct he has. On the other hand, if he wants to expand his market, he needs to prove what he's selling is worth buying.
"This is a one-time thing," Ethan says finally. "You ask for a sample again, and we're done. Understand?"
"Understood," Devil says.
Ethan reaches into his cut and pulls out a small baggie. Even from here, I can see the green inside it. The fentanyl-laced weed that's been poisoning kids all over Laurel Springs.
My hands tighten on my handlebars, but I keep my expression neutral. Can't show any emotion. Can't let them see how much I want to tackle Ethan off his bike and beat the shit out of him for what he's been selling.
Ethan tosses the baggie to Devil, who catches it one-handed. "That's premium product. Top quality. Your buyers are going to love it."
"I'm sure they will." Devil tucks the baggie into his own cut. "We'll be in touch about that buy."
"You do that. But Devil?" Ethan's voice hardens. "Don't ever ask me for free shit again. Next time you want product, you come with cash. Real cash, not promises."
"Won't be a problem."
Ethan nods, then kicks his bike back to life. The two guys with him do the same, and within seconds they're riding away, the sound of their engines fading into the distance.
Lee follows them up the road.
We wait until they're completely gone before any of us move. Then Devil pulls out the baggie and holds it up to the light.
"We got it," he says, and I can hear the satisfaction in his voice. "We've got the fucking evidence."
Lee lets out a breath he's been holding. "Holy shit. I can't believe that actually worked."
"Ethan's greedy," I say. "And greed makes people stupid. He wants to expand his operation so bad he's willing to take risks he shouldn't."
"Which works in our favor." Devil tucks the baggie carefully back into his cut. "We get this to Harrison, he can test it, confirm it's the same stuff that's been showing up all over town. Then we've got probable cause to go after the Rebels hard."
"And the Clarks," I add. "Because there's no way the Rebels are operating without their backing."
"One step at a time." Devil starts his bike. "First we get this tested. Then we figure out our next move."
We ride back toward town in formation, Lee bringing up the rear, after we meet back up with him. My mind is already racing ahead to what comes next. The test results will take a day or two, and then Harrison can start building his case. Warrants, arrests, the whole nine yards.
This is it. This is what I've been working toward for almost four years. Taking down a drug operation, getting poison off the streets, making sure kids like Logan don't have to suffer.
Making sure my mom's story doesn't happen to anyone else.
When we pull into the garage, Storm is waiting. He takes one look at our faces and knows something went down.
"It go okay?" he asks.
"Better than okay," Devil says. "We got what we needed."
Storm nods, not asking for details. That's the thing about the club. People know when to ask questions and when to just trust that shit's being handled.
I pull out my phone and send a quick text to Chief Harrison.
D: Got the sample. Ready when you are.
His response comes almost immediately.
Chief Harrison: Bring it by this afternoon. Back entrance.
I show the text to Devil, and he nods. "You want to take it, or should I?"
"I'll do it," I say. "You've done enough today."
"Alright. But be careful. If the Rebels are watching…"
"They're not. Ethan thinks he just made a new business partner. He's not going to waste resources tailing us."
At least, I hope he's not. But I've been doing this long enough to know that hope isn't a strategy. I'll be careful, make sure I'm not followed, take every precaution.
Because we're so close now. So close to ending this. And I'm not going to fuck it up when we're this close to the finish line.
I spend the rest of the afternoon working at the garage, keeping my hands busy while my mind races. When evening comes, I tell everyone I'm heading out to pick up Allison from school, which is true. But first, I make a detour.
The back entrance to the police station is in an alley that's mostly hidden from view. Harrison's car is already there when I pull up, and he gets out when he sees me.
"You got it?" he asks without preamble.
I pull the baggie from my cut and hand it over. "Fresh from Ethan himself."
Harrison holds it up to the light, examining it. "This is good. Real good. We can test this, confirm it's laced, and then we've got probable cause to go after the Rebels directly."
"How long for the test?"
"Forty-eight hours, maybe less if I can rush it." He looks at me. "You did good work today, Grant. Really good work."
Hearing my real name still feels strange, but less strange than it did a few days ago. "Just doing my job."
"Yeah, well, your job might have just saved a lot of lives." He tucks the baggie into an evidence bag. "I'll be in touch as soon as we have results."
I nod and get back in my truck, heading toward the school. When I pull into the parking lot, Allison's already waiting, and the smile on her face when she sees me makes everything else fade away.
This. This is what I'm fighting for. Her smile, her safety, her future.
And I'm not going to stop until I know she's safe from the poison that's been infecting this town.
Not until every last bit of it is gone.