Chapter 1
JAMESON
Present Day…
I was halfway buried in invoices, the numbers on the pages were starting to blur into one another beneath the low amber light that hung over my desk. I leaned back against the worn leather of my favorite chair, and the wood groaned under my weight.
This office was my sanctuary. I had it designed to my taste years ago.
The dark wood paneling lined the walls, and the scent of leather and aged bourbon clung to the air, grounding me, reminding me exactly who the hell I was every time I stepped inside those doors.
My desk alone cost more than most men made in a month, solid oak with deep grooves carved from years of fists slamming down on it.
It was where I went to keep a cool head and stay away from the chaos this world had branded me into.
Tonight, I was sitting with Tick Tock going over the report my Treasurer, Powertrain, had provided earlier. It was because of him we were stuck here this late.
Tick Tock shifted beside me, his fingertips typing away on a calculator as he added numbers.
"Powertrain has no idea what the fuck hes doing," I said.
"He’s better than you give him credit for, prez."
“Credit! We just lost ten grand in 'administrative fees.' Fix it."
"That’s exactly what I’m trying to, but the math ain’t mathing"
“Then bring him in here. I’m too damn tired for this shit.”
The door to my office slammed open hard enough to rattle the glasses on the bar cart beside me. The sharp sound cut through the quiet, slightly annoying me, and I didn’t have to look up to know who was at my door, his presence always carried through.
Powertrain.
I lifted my eyes, slowly letting the pen rest between my fingers. "Unless the clubhouse is currently a crater or Sadie’s been snatched by the feds, you’re dead," I said.
“What?” he asked, glancing at Tick Tock’s frustrated expression.
“What the fuck are these numbers,” I snapped.
“Yeah, I know. I tried to fix them but they made no sense. And when I called…well, shit, Prez.
Sal Lovino is dead.”
The words hung in the air as Tick Tock looked at me. I straightened in my chair, my gaze locking onto Powertrain.
“You better have more information coming out of that wise-ass mouth of yours.”
“They found him dead in his hotel room in New York City,” he continued, stepping further in, his boots echoing against the hardwood floor. “Pants down, ass out, flat on his back, foaming at the mouth. He suffocated on his own vomit.”
I exhaled through my nose, rolling my shoulders once as I leaned back again. “Didn’t know he was a junkie.” I shrugged, glancing down at the invoice in front of me, though I wasn’t seeing a damn thing on the page anymore. “Shame though. He would have been useful on this next run.”
Sal Lovino wasn’t family, he was just another bookie whom he hired, but he was working with us long enough that every member knew who he was.
A numbers guy with sticky fingers and loose morals, the kind of man who survived by playing both sides until someone finally decided he’d overstayed his welcome.
We paid him well, kept him protected, and in return he fed us names, routes, and weak links in operations that weren’t ours. It was a clean arrangement.
Except Sal had his kinks. And one of them had always rubbed me the wrong way.
“No drugs,” Powertrain said, his tone tighter now, pulling my attention back up to him. “He died in a very particular way.”
That got my attention, and I leaned forward, forearms pressing into the desk. “What exactly does that mean?”
“They found traces of some kind of toxin in his bloodstream,” he said. “Not your average overdose. And when they checked the room, nothing important was missing. His wallet and cash were still intact. Nothing had been moved.
My jaw tightened. “And?” I pushed.
Powertrain reached into his pocket, pulling out a small plastic evidence bag, tossing it onto my desk. Inside sat a black velvet card, smooth, dark, and unmistakable.
“They found that tucked in his wallet.”
My eyes locked on it, something cold settling deep in my chest.
“How’d you get this?”
“The Rotten Apple Chapter had someone on sight. This is what they found.”
I flipped the card around, but all it had was a silver flower imprinted on it. “A woman?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.
Powertrain tilted his head, watching me carefully. “A Violent Delight.”
“Well, fuck!”
My hand came down hard on the desk, the sound cracking through the room as irritation surged under my skin.
“What in the hell is Duchess doing over there?”
Across from me, Tick Tock shifted, the legs of his chair scraping lightly as he leaned back, his dirty boots planted right on my desk without a care in the world. The bastard had a smirk stretched across his face, enjoying this more than he should.
“I told you not to take your eyes off her,” he drawled, his voice lazy but sharp underneath. “She’s a wild card, and so are all her girls.”
I shot him a look of irritation and reached forward, shoving his boots off my desk with a hard swipe. “Get your shit off my desk.”
Powertrain rubbed the back of his neck, tension written all over him. “They may be crazy as fuck,” he muttered, “but they don’t fuck around when it comes to their job, Prez. If they were involved… then he wasn’t just some casualty. He was a hit.”
I frowned, my gaze dropping back to the velvet card, my mind already moving three steps ahead. “Do we know who requested the hit?”
“Not yet. I’ve got Hoax looking into it. He’s got a connection to the New York Harlots Chapter but he’s being careful. Doesn’t want to give anything away.
Tick Tock shrugged, folding his arms across his chest. “They wouldn’t go to the Feds. That’s not their style. So whatever intel they pulled? It didn’t go clean.” His eyes flicked to mine. “I’m betting black market.”
“Fuck. Me.”
The words came out low, my jaw clenching as the weight of that possibility settled in.
The last thing I needed was any piece of our world floating around where it didn’t belong.
Sal might not have had everything we worked on, but he had enough to cause problems for us if our name landed in the wrong hands.
Powertrain’s gaze held mine. “Hate to say it, Prez… but your girl fucked up.”
I shook my head slowly, my fingers drumming once against the desk. “No. That doesn’t sit right.” I looked back up at him. “This is sloppy. Too damn sloppy. Those women don’t move messy. The last thing they want is attention.”
Before either of them could respond, the door creaked open again, lighter this time, and Legion strolled in, a grin spread across his face that didn’t belong in this room.
“Hey, Prez…”
He stopped mid-step when he caught the tension hanging thick in the air, that boyish smile fading just as fast as it had appeared.
Legion had been a loyal member of the club for a few years now. And I liked that he mostly hung around up north. He was loyal to the club and although he never settled with a Chapter, he was one I could count on.
“Back so soon?” I asked.
“Was heading down South, wanted to get some beach time in.”
I narrowed my eyes on him and Tick Tock shook his head, my Road Captain knowing exactly what I was up to.
“Shit,” Legion muttered. “Come on, Prez. I just got back. I was hopin’ for a little downtime. You know what I mean.”
I leaned back in my chair again, studying him for a long second.
“You can get it in New York.”
Powertrain’s head snapped toward me. “You’re sending Legion?” The disbelief in his voice wasn’t subtle. “This kid’s been off his fuckin’ rocker lately. He needs stability, not another run.”
“He needs this,” I said evenly, not taking my eyes off Legion. “One last job for me and he can take all the vacation he wants. Besides, he’s perfect for it.”
What I wasn’t telling them was that I was already making plans on having Crucifix and F.O.C.U.S. in the Rotten Apple Chapter look after him. If the kid needed backup, there was no one else I trusted more.
Tick Tock let out a quiet chuckle under his breath, clearly entertained.
Legion stood there, all clean lines and sharp edges, that pretty boy face doing him more favors than he probably realized. All wide-eyed and calm, not a single question leaving his mouth.
It was the one thing I liked about the kid. He never asked too many questions and just did what I asked.
“Calm down, soldier boy,” he directed at Powertrain, his tone easy, though there was something restless beneath it. “At least I’m not as crazy as you are.” His gaze then met mine. “What’s the job, Prez?”
“I need you to look into some people for me.”
He nodded once. “Just look into them?”
“For now,” I paused.
“And who would these people be?”
I paused and had a quick glance with Tick Tock. “The Harlots,” I said, my voice dropping a notch. “Specifically… the New York chapter.”
Legion blinked, then let out a short laugh, taking a step back, both hands lifting slightly.
“Whoa. Hold up.” He shook his head. “You want me to spy on the Duchess?” His brows lifted. “That woman married into the mafia, made herself a queen overnight, and you think that’s a smart move? If there’s one thing I’ve learned is that you don’t mess with the Duchess.”
I leaned forward again, the leather beneath my arms creaking, my gaze sharpening as it locked onto his.
“Wrong,” I said, my voice cutting clean through the room. “You don’t fuck with the Bastards.”
Silence settled heavy for a beat.
“And right now,” I continued, slower, colder, “that little girl is keeping shit from me.”
My fingers curled against the edge of the desk, the velvet card sitting between us all, quiet and damning.
“And I want to know every single one of her secrets.”
“I don’t know about this, Jameson.” Tick Tock’s voice rang out with that edge of fatherly concern that sometimes slipped in his tone.