CHAPTER 6
DIMPLES
Luckily, everyone expects me to be smiling because I can’t help it after Storm outsmarted Frost. I want to give Storm a high five, but it’s better saved for when no one’s watching.
Storm pushes through the heavy steel door into the Iron Thorns’ sanctum—our meeting room. It’s where everything important happens. She switches on the light at the same time she turns on the industrial noise-canceling machine.
Usually, the long, scarred wooden table sits in the room’s center, but on church nights, it’s up front to make space for the rows of chairs.
Just like us, the chairs are ragtag and mismatched.
While we bought new chairs for the clubhouse, here we cling to nostalgia for the early days when we couldn’t afford anything more than furniture picked up from someone’s trash.
The room holds a faint hint of leather, beer, and motor oil, which is likely embedded in the fabric of the chairs. Another reason not to replace them.
Unframed, mostly candid pictures are pinned to one wall. In the center of the chaotically placed pictures are two large framed photos. One is Aces by herself, the other is the original nine club members. Only Diesel and Pinky are left.
As she always does, Storm stops at Aces’ picture and puts her hand against her chest before she moves to the head of the table.
We all stand waiting for her to sit. She pauses for a beat before pulling out her chair.
As if savoring her victory, she slowly lowers herself, staring at Frost the entire time, almost daring her to sit first.
Frost waits with a sour expression on her face, but as soon as Storm’s ass hits the seat, Frost yanks out her chair. As the VP, her seat is to the right of Storm, but she’ll never be her right hand. That honor goes to me. I sit three seats down with Frost and Jinx between us.
It’s easy to figure out how Jinx got her name. When she was prospecting, anything she touched went to shit or broke. After Aces died, Jinx cozied up to Frost. Since I’m superstitious, it’s best she hangs with Frost and keeps her bad luck away from Storm.
Nails sits last, left of Storm. As the sergeant-at-arms, her job is to keep order and protect the president. She takes her role seriously, and I trust her with Storm’s life. She’s tough as nails, which is one reason she got her name.
Despite her grit and muscles, she’s one of the sexiest women in the club.
Instead of having a cut with a zipper, hers laces in the front, and most times, she doesn’t wear a shirt underneath.
Her boobs have stopped more fights than her strength.
Despite being a wrench jockey and managing Black Briar Motors, her fingernails are always manicured and painted.
Once everyone is seated, Storm says, “I wanted to check in with the officers before church. See if there’s anything we need to discuss behind closed doors.”
She doesn’t look at Frost, but I know who she’s talking to. If Frost doesn’t speak up and then stirs shit at church, it’ll make her look bad.
When nobody says anything, Storm turns to Halo, our treasurer, who sits next to Nails. “Since nobody has anything, I was hoping to get a sneak peek at the financial reports.”
Halo holds up her folder. “Sure thing.” She passes them out, and I glance at the spreadsheet, but I’ll study it later. I prefer hearing what Halo has to say.
“As you can see, our finances are strong,” Halo says. “Last season was a banner year for revenue, and our expenses were in check. We—”
“I think we can do better this year,” Frost says, interrupting Halo.
“Let her finish,” Storm says.
Frost glares but keeps her comments to herself.
Halo continues, but I tune her out, concentrating on the tense energy sizzling in the room. Frost is wound tight. Nails must feel it, too, because her gaze is laser-focused on Frost.
Once Halo finishes, Storm says, “Thanks for the report. Excellent numbers.” She turns to Frost, throwing her a small concession. “Would you like the floor?”
Frost nods. “We should aim higher. It’d be easy to triple, even quadruple our revenue.”
“We’ve talked about adding more Moonlight Races this year,” Storm says.
Frost waves her hand toward Storm as if brushing her off. “Small potatoes. We need to think bigger.”
I lean forward, trying to catch Storm’s expression from this angle.
When Storm speaks, her voice is measured. “I’m not sure we heard the same report.” Storm looks at Halo. “Sounds like our numbers are solid.”
Halo’s head bobs up and down. “Absolutely. We have a strong balance sheet.”
Frost snorts. “If we wanna stay small time. But we’re leaving a lot of money on the table.”
Storm puts her finger on the spreadsheet and pushes it toward Frost. “This number isn’t small to me.”
“All about perspective,” Frost says. “It might look like a big deal here in Cinder Ridge, but clubs downstate would laugh at our pathetic bottom line.”
“Um, we’re not downstate,” Halo says.
“Yeah,” I add. “I like our little corner of the Adirondacks. Nobody bothers us, and we earn enough to support the club and the community.”
“Sounds like typical blue-collar rhetoric.” Frost sneers. “Small-minded.”
My jaw clenches, fearing what Storm will do since she comes from a long line of proud blue-collar workers.
To Storm’s credit, she doesn’t play into Frost’s hands. “This community is solid. We’re solid.”
“Maybe, but we could be more solid,” Frost says, her voice forceful. “If Aces were still here, then—”
“She’s not,” I say, stepping way over the line, but I’m sick of people throwing that shit at Storm. Luckily, I can’t see Storm’s face.
“What did you have in mind?” Storm asks, keeping her voice steady.
“We’re too close to Canada not to take advantage of it,” Frost says. “With so much focus on our Southern border, think about the potential we’re missing on the Northern. It’s an easy ride from here to Canada. Fucking money left on the table.”
“What are you suggesting?” Halo asks.
Frost shrugs as if giving a nonchalant answer. “Fentanyl.”
I expect Storm to erupt; instead, she turns to Jinx. “Would you hand out our code of ethics? I was planning on reviewing it with the members tonight, but it seems our officers need a refresher.”
A sour expression settles on Jinx’s face as she pulls a stack of papers from her binder and distributes them around the table. I want to smile at Storm, who’s handling Frost perfectly.
I pull the sheet toward me.
1. No victims. Only take from the system and those adults who can afford it.
2. No kids. No drugs. No trafficking. No women harmed.
3. Take care of your sisters and your community.
4. Patch before profit.
5. Stay off the radar.
6. Ride free, die loyal.
Storm puts her hand under her chin and looks toward the ceiling, tapping her finger on her lips as she does. Then she looks back at Frost. “I believe that idea goes against several items on this list. Are ya gonna suggest sex trafficking women next, or do you want to start with children?”
Nails, who’s been silent throughout the conversation, laughs. “Yeah, Jesus, Frost, what’re you thinking? We’re the good guys, remember.”
Frost crosses her arms over her chest and glares at Nails.
I study Frost. Something isn’t right. Her actions are off. It’s like she’s putting on an act, but what’s her endgame?
“Then what’s your suggestion?” Frost says to Nails.
“If we wanna bring in more money, do more of what we’re already doin’.” Nails shakes her head. “Sometimes you educated types can be so stupid.”
“Fine, brainiac,” Frost says. “What’s your suggestion?”
“We’ve got more capacity at the garage. Prospect One is handy with a wrench.” Nails smiles. “She was a mechanic in the Army. Great addition to the club. Anyway, we could take in more abandoned vehicles.”
Early on, the Thorns took in abandoned cars, motorcycles, snowmobiles, you name it, and stripped them down. The last few years, the abandoned vehicles aren’t the rust buckets we used to get, but nobody talks about it, and nobody says the word chop shop.
“That would require another supply,” Halo says. “’Cause we don’t want the girls foraging for vehicles.”
“Of course not,” Frost says. “I’ve got sources in Philly. They’ll hook us up with as many as we want.”
“I could be down with that,” Nails says. “The more work we have, the more hours I can give to the girls. Though we’re already pretty busy.”
“Plus, we could offer more free repairs to the locals who’re struggling with their bills.” Frost gives Storm a fake smile and taps the code of ethics in front of her. “It’d help our community and those women and children we’re committed to protecting.”
The puzzle pieces fall into place as I listen to Frost talk. She knew fentanyl would never fly, but that was never her endgame. She wants to walk the club into deepening our business at Black Briar. But why?
I squirm in my chair, trying to get a better look at Storm. Was Storm coming to the same conclusion? My mind spins. Jinx has to know. Did Nails? She’s getting more business for Black Briar. What about Halo? I hate how easily suspicion comes to me, even with my sisters.
Perhaps Frost is just being her typical manipulative self, nothing more.
Instead of being upfront, she likes being sneaky.
It’s her nature, or she doesn’t know Storm like I do.
Sure, there’s no love lost between the two, but Storm is fair.
She’d have heard Frost’s suggestions out, but did Frost know that?
Storm saying my name pulls me back in.
“Dimples will talk about our upcoming rides,” Storm says.
I pick up my notebook and shake it. “I’ve got all the details here.”
“Good,” Storm says. “We’ll also run through the bylaws and remind everyone of club expectations. Sometimes the girls get lax over the winter.”
“Speaking of,” Frost says.
I stiffen.
Storm nods, giving Frost permission to take the floor.
“We need to make sure nobody’s coddling the prospects.” Frost doesn’t look at me when she says it, but I can still feel her eyes on me, or more accurately, her judgment.
I’d expected the attack, but I figured it’d be public, during church.
“Would you like to elaborate?” Storm asks.
Frost shakes her head. “No, I just wanted you to remind the patches when you’re covering the bylaws.”
Damn, had someone slipped Frost Prozac? The contentious meeting I’d been dreading hadn’t materialized. I bet Storm is as puzzled as I am.
“Sure, I’ll mention it. Anything else?” Storm asks.
When nobody has anything, Storm says, “Let’s call in our sisters.”
Relief settles in, but I don’t trust it to last.