Chapter 4
NEVEN
The paper in my back pocket burns an imaginary hole straight through my gut. My glasses fog faintly from the amount of heat and sweat in the room.
And on my person.
I’m grateful for the scapegoat of the humidity of a full room of people. Easier to blame that than the single piece of paper that could change my life.
Every Wolf in the MC is crammed into a tiny room in the back of the mechanic shop with a desk and whiteboard up front and rows of desks and chairs.
We also used this room as a study hall for the young’uns.
One of Prez’s rules is that all kids born or joining the MC must have a high school diploma or their GED.
He doesn’t tolerate dumb fucks. (His words.)
I hope it’s less sweltering during school hours. But, still, convenient for me tonight.
“And that’ll be all. Adjourned.” Prez, also known as Ace Nightwell, slams his gavel. His brown eyes lock with mine, and I give him a short nod to confirm our personal meeting after the Townhall.
Our Prez is a man of few words. His actions speak for him, and that’s what makes him a worthy leader. He’s run this club for thirty years.
The Midnight Wolves motorcycle club started when his mom was attacked by another MC. Prez’s mother survived the attack with a long scar down her back, but Prez wasn't the kind of man to let something like that slide.
Regardless if it meant going up against an entire MC by himself.
He didn’t have to, though. Thunder, my dad and VP Rider, and Bear, our Enforcer, joined him in his justice for his mom.
Not that it was a hard sell. That club was a terror in our neighborhood, randomly attacking people, stealing women and children, and selling dirty drugs cut with the most random shit.
Shit that killed people without them having to overdose.
They had to go, and Prez, Bear, and Dad took care of it. They killed their leader. and that club couldn’t find their heads from their asses after that and so they disbanded, and went who knows where.
After, Prez created Midnight Wolves with my dad and Bear to clean up the neighborhood.
Prez is a white man with blond hair and green sharp eyes. He has the build of an athlete and even in his old age he runs a tight ship. We as a club are committed to protecting the citizens of White Pine Crest and pricing a clean product.
Nothing could have been better than growing up among the Wolves. Sure, we still sell, we still hold our ground. Disrespect is returned tenfold. But we have a reason. Purpose.
We may not be good people, but we try to be good.
It’s why the thought of leaving is so hard.
Wolves flowed past me out of the cramped room.
Townhall was normally a biweekly event with the whole MC, but lately we’ve been meeting every damn week.
The Midnight Wolves aren't the only club here anymore.
New clubs seem to pop up every which way we look, which is fine as long as they stay out of White Pine Crest. As long as they follow the rules.
Don’t come on ours. Don’t hurt ours. Ours being sales and people, if not in that order.
These rules seem very hard to follow for these new MCs in Maine.
Finally, the last member clears out, and Prez fixes me with a hard stare. Reed stays back too, in the room, leaning against his dad’s desk with his arms crossed.
He’s known as Red around the club, and besides me, he’s the only one pursuing higher education. Even though I’m pretty sure we’re going for different reasons. Me, I needed something more stable, more consistent than the odd jobs I did around the MC from time to time. So I started going to college.
Reed wants to make his dad happy. Which I don’t fault him for.
He feels like he has a lot to prove, to everyone, all the damn time.
It makes me sad sometimes, because it’s so clearly written on him.
Like, he knows this is his home, but he still has moments where he doesn’t believe it.
Where maybe he thinks he doesn’t deserve it.
Me thinking of leaving would blow his mind, maybe even piss him off. I was born into the MC. I have birthright. It means absolutely nothing, but to him, it means everything.
It means belonging. And I’m getting ready to walk away.
“I have a separate job for you,” Prez says.
“Whatever you need,” I murmur, sitting at the desk across from them. My nerves burn me alive from the inside.
Do they know about my job offer?
That I applied? That I planned on accepting?
I was going to be an ethical hacker. Now that I’m nearing the end of my computer programming degree, job offers have been rolling in, mainly one from across the country from a company that is aggressively pursuing me.
I’d get a salary, benefits, and a set schedule. I’d have a normal life.
“Hacker,” Prez uses my roadname as he stares at me. “There’s a snake.”
The words settle over me like burning lava dumped on my skin. My eyes widen
Do we even have any new prospects?
Oh wait, I think we do. We have three in their probationary period—call it an audition—to join our club.
Could one of them be a snake so soon?
“Money is missing,” Red supplies, his brown eyes meeting mine.
The pain in his and Prez’s eyes are the same, even if that's about all the relation this son and father share.
Red is Asian, Prez is white, and his mate, Queen, is Black.
There was no way he was biologically theirs, but there was no denying that Red was theirs in every way that matters.
“From where?” I ask. Trying to figure out what they need me for.
“The garage.”
So they need help going through the electronic records. We run Wolves Garage clean, using the high overhead costs from the diner to clean any money we have. It's much harder to identify a snake in the diner since everything is recorded on paper in code.
It’s the absolute dumbest spot for someone to rob us from.
“No one can know we’re looking,” Prez continues. “Until we find out who is messing with our numbers, I don't want them to get so much as a sniff that we are on to them.”
The realization of my new situation dawns on me, and I have to make damn sure my face doesn’t give me away.
I have to figure out who the snake is before my job offer expires.
I can’t leave my MC hanging, not with a damn snake in their ranks.
I nod. I have two weeks to figure this and my entire life out. Great. Pushing my glasses up my nose as I leave the room.
Prez’s voice makes me freeze. “Wait, what was it you wanted to meet about?”
Fuck. Do I tell him about the job offer? No. He’ll pull me off the job. Or worse, he might think I'm the snake.
“I just need tomorrow night off.” I try to think of what the fuck I need to do in case he asks. I was on duty to ride around the neighborhood to keep watch of other gangs.
“Not a problem. Red can cover your ride.”
“Thanks, man,” I mutter, waving a quick hand in Red’s direction, safely making it out of the room.