Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
SAS
The aspirin only dulled the pain pulsing through my head. A joint would’ve taken off the edge, but since Wilde appointed me VP, I thought it would be best to keep myself sober for the ass chewing I would likely receive today.
The Prez would be pissed about the cartel.
Hell, I was pissed about the cartel, but both he and Angel had approved the deal once Beans and the Warden came up with the plan for distribution. That meant our fearless leader had his hands deep in this shit- uation too. I was sitting out back with shades on and pounding another bottle of water when the roar of the engines cut down the road toward the clubhouse.
I straightened. Thankfully, half the guys who lived at the clubhouse had ridden out just after dawn for a long ride up Highway 1. I wished I could be out there with them, but I had business to attend to. Duchess had also sent the bunnies on various tasks—grocery shopping, Costco runs, and the like—to get them away while we had church.
I stood and walked inside through the back door. The other officers, including Graff, were waiting. Beans and the Warden sat at the long dining table with laptops open and blue light ghosting their faces. Rafe, the fucking spy in our mix, stood with his feet apart and hands behind his back next to the door leading into the bunnies’ wing.
Adelina’s fucking protector.
The front door slammed open, and Wilde walked in first. Bou waddled in a step behind the Prez, holding his hand, and they passed the entry and the seating area near the door as they moved into the main common area. They must’ve driven the truck to LA, because she had to be past riding herself. But others must’ve come too, because those were definitely bikes I’d heard rolling up. Swiping the band out of his hair and letting it fall like a black-and-white curtain, Angel stalked inside, then Cook led a wide-eyed Maddie.
I narrowed my eyes at her and the collar with a metal D-ring around her neck, then I snapped my gaze back over to the Park Ridge enforcer.
He smirked at me as I read his shirt: I’ve got your vibrator. It has two wheels and five gears.
I hadn’t liked the man at first, but there’s something about him that now made me smile. Instead, I raised my brows and stalked over toward the table.
We waited for our president to get down to business, but he stalked around the huge living area in the clubhouse, past the wall with the television and gaming systems sitting quietly for a change in anticipation of the club’s meeting. Wilde swiped his hand longingly along the edge of the pool table opposite the kitchen.
Clearly, he missed the place.
Once we were married, Adelina had better not expect me to give up the warehouse for some pretentious house in Beverly Hills. Ward had done it for Bell, but that sure as shit wasn’t happening.
Duchess and the other bunnies to clean up before management arrived, so the place—even the back yard where I had been lounging in the morning sun—was spic and span after the party last night.
And every other night.
Cook marched over with Maddie on his heels and whispered something to Rafe, who gave him a nod. Then he sent Maddie through the door with a smack on her ass.
“Alright. No time to dick around,” said Wilde in his usual to-the-point way. “What’s this shit with the cartel?”
No time was an understatement.
He stood at the head of the table, Bou just over his shoulder. Women weren’t meant to be patched members in the MC—only old ladies, bunnies, and daughters—yet she stood like she was one of us, crossing her arms over her chest and pregnant belly hanging low. The fact that she’d taken down several of the attacking cartel members at her shop earned her some cred, though.
The new ways of the MC were weird, changing, and I couldn’t decide how I felt about it. Diablo and now The Ridge were my life. I thrived on the ride and having my brothers’ backs. But we were growing. And now that we were all part of one MC, The Ridge, everyone was in everyone else’s business. Granted, the guys in Arizona handled the border runs, which brought in bank, and even more cash now that we had the deal with Parisi.
Guess I just needed to figure out how the fuck to adapt.
Wilde scanned our faces as Angel—the hulking, scarred bastard—stood on Wilde’s side, opposite of Bou and looking nasty and mean. Apparently, his old lady hadn’t made him soft. Good thing too. We still needed some iron in our MC blood.
I glanced at the door beside Rafe, a solid six-panel wooden door that hid a long hallway of other doors. Behind one, Adelina had to be waiting. It was locked, I hoped, keeping her inside, safe, and out of my hair. She was fed this morning and had enough water. Duchess got her some magazines or shit. What else did a woman need to be comfortable?
“Spill it, Sas,” ordered Prez.
At least, Rafe didn’t jump into the mix, but he was the one who ran and tattled to Wilde.
“The Medellín Cartel wants payback for the product we lost when the Gambino’s bombed our warehouse.”
Wilde arched a brow. “You mean their shipment?”
“Yeah.” I stroked my beard, hating how much this judgement stung. “Now they are insisting that we help them take over Barranquilla Cartel territory as payment.”
The Prez stiffened. Bou and Angel at either of his sides dropped their jaws, and they weren’t the only ones. All the patched members in LA and the few from Arizona gaped, but now, everyone understood the gravity of the situation.
Chaos—and not the bunny kind—ensued as people yelled about unreasonable demands and shit. I pinched the bridge of my nose and closed my eyes, wishing they would keep it down for the sake of my aching head. This was why I didn’t call Wilde and why I didn’t call for church after the Rojas brothers left. We didn’t need more idiots in this situation, but we now had the heap of them.
“Shut it down!” ordered Wilde over the fray, and the vomit of voices screeched to a halt. “Beans, report.”
The nerd stood, pushing the glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Though the club is doing well with more shipments crossing the border, we don’t have the kind of cash to launch any kind of interference between two of the most notorious Colombian cartels as well as keeping our operation here up and running.” He turned to Wilde. “We can’t get our hands on the kind of cash to just pay off the cartel.”
Graff popped his head up from the latest drawing he was working on, one earbud dangling. “Not sure buying them off is an option anymore.”
Next to the door, Rafe scowled. He’d tried to offer me money on Adelina’s behalf, but I wasn’t about to accept a handout and then be in debt to my future wife. No fucking way.
“What is it they’re looking for?” Bou caressed her watermelon-shaped belly.
I walked over to the chair across the table from Angel and plopped down with a sigh. “Enough money to compensate them for their losses. And then that motherfucker Caz mentioned the interest would be covered by the potential future income opening the shipping routes would bring.”
Bou shifted. “That seems easy enough. Just business, right? Can we go to the Medellín and come up with a compromise?”
“How exactly do you think compromises work with cartel kingpins?” I muttered, and she narrowed her gaze on me. Apparently, having someone argue with her was new territory. Did they take her suggestions blindly down in Park Ridge?
“We could fabricate evidence,” suggested the Warden. “Maybe find someone on the inside to tip offMarco Duran.” He clicked away on the laptop. “The kingpin’s given name is Alejandro Vargas Cardona, but the dark web says he’s more commonly known by Marco. We can plant some evidence—entirely electronically, of course—about a potential takeover.”
“Sounds like a lot of work,” I mumbled, but neither the Warden nor Wilde looked at me. Fine. I was just here for the ride.
Ward shrugged. “Could be, but it could get the Medellín boys off your back and occupied with things closer to their home.”
“That’d be fucking stellar,” said Wilde. “How confident are you?”
Ward pursed his lips, then said, “Gimme a couple days to find an in, and?—”
I barked a laugh. “We don’t have days to make something work. Well, I guess we do. Two and a half, but that’s not enough fucking time to set up that scheme.”
“The Parisi money,” said Rafe loudly, talking over three other voices in the room.
The patched members looked down the table at him, each as skeptical about him as me. He wasn’t to be trusted.
“You know we have the cash, Wilde,” said Rafe. “Let’s use it to get out of this mess.”
I shook my head, bristling. “Money will just get us in over our heads with these people. Once they know we have that much?—”
“Wilde just asked Beans about the treasury,” said Rafe.
“He’s the president,” I snapped. “He gets to ask whatever the fuck he wants. I would expect a military man like you to get how rank works.”
“Sure, but you’ve dragged this whole club into your shit and made this about our lives, not rank,” said Rafe.
“Our lives? You’re not part of us,” I said.
“Sas!” snapped Wilde. “I don’t want to be in debt to Don Parisi any more than you do. He’s got his thumb on all the criminal underworld in the Yuma Triangle, and we’ve just partnered up with him.”
“Almost,” started Rafe. “The deal is only final when there’s a ring on Adelina’s finger.”
Wilde held up his hand. “That deal is already made. All that’s left is to sign it and seal it. Got me?” Prez’s eyes bored into me, and I tried not to squirm. His ice-blue stare was so ghostly and haunting it sent chills up my spine.
He knew I was only planning to do this on paper. Fuck. Maybe someone had snitched on me about my little tryst with Kaos last night, and my bet was Rafe. He had already been up my ass on everything else.
“I’m not talking about the arranged marriage,” said Rafe. “My goal is to keep her safe, and this will impede her safety.”
“Take a pill, man. We’ll keep her safe.” I dismissively waved a hand in the air.
She was locked in her bedroom, after all. Alive. Safe. At least, she was this morning.
Rafe cleared his throat and looked directly at Wilde. “The loan wouldn’t be?—”
“Exactly, a loan,” I said to Rafe. “Nothing comes free with the Mafia.”
“It’s money,” snapped Rafe. “My brother’s in the business to make money. Just like this little disorganized MC here.” He indicated the room and warehouse.
The man had balls. Time to knock him off his fucking high horse.
“Maybe”—I pinned him with an angry stare—“we should call it a dowry. We’re taking her off your hands.”
“I’m surprised you know what a dowry is,” Rafe said to me, “but not the point for the moment. The bigger issue than the money and the fact that dealing the Medellín Cartel will land us in the middle of a war.”
“They’re a thousand miles away,” I argued.
Rafe took a few steps forward and leaned onto the table with both hands, locking his sights on me. “Then how the fuck did the Rojas brothers end up in this warehouse yesterday?”
I leaned back in the chair, folding my arms over my chest.
“That’s what I thought,” Rafe said. “And you need to screw your head on straight, Vice Prez . Cuz if you don’t wake up and realize you’ve got a team here that’s got your back, you’re going to end up with a bullet between those eyes.”
“That a threat, motherfucker?” I planted my hands too and slowly stood. “Try it. Probably better than being married to the Mafia.”
Bou reached into her cut and yanked out two guns. “Enough. Both of you.” She pointed one at me and the other at Rafe, who backed off with his hands in the air.
“Sit down, Sas.” She motioned with the gun toward my chair. When I obeyed, she said, “Wilde?” She tipped her head away from the table.
And the fucking bastard stepped away with her.
That pussy must be made of gold.
She stowed her guns back into her cut—something that wouldn’t even stretch around her belly at the moment. They bent their heads together like they were having a romantic conversation, but this decision wasn’t just up to them. Though I couldn’t blame Wilde for only thinking about her and the kid. She did have nice tits, and damn... Had they gotten bigger recently?
That wasn’t what our MC was built on, making babies and shit. Sure, some of the guys had old ladies and kids, but they were on their way out. No longer making names for themselves. I wasn’t ready to give up the party life yet and get old.
Wilde bobbed his head, and Bou stepped back. Their conversation severed, and the rest of us had to live with the consequences.
“What we don’t need,” began Wilde, “is to make enemies of any cartel. We might have to trust el Tigre doesn’t want to run his business into the ground.”
I threw my hands up in the air. “Trust isn’t going to stop Cazador, Acero, and el Fantasma from showing up here in a couple of days with guns blazing.”
With his cold glare on me, Wilde continued, “Beans, what else you got?”
“We could sell some property,” he said, “but I only have guess-timates on how much it might bring in.”
Teller, the road captain in LA, asked, “Is there any product left in the warehouse that we can move?”
I shook my head no. At least, not in LA. The product right now was coming from south of the border. Maybe it was time to look north or far east.
“Ward, do what you do. Hack into some shit?” Wilde ordered. “Help us figure out a way out of this fuckery.”
I opened my mouth to object, but Wilde raised a hand to silence me.
“Even if it’s only as a backup plan,” he said.
The Warden nodded. “I’ll look into it, Prez.”
“And Sas . . .” Wilde waited.
I flashed my eyes up to meet his.
“Maybe you should listen to Rafe just a little. The club’s got your back like you had Angel’s up at Barton Mill when we busted the Gambinos’ trafficking operations.”
My nostrils flared as I sucked in a deep breath, but all I could do was nod. I’d just told Rafe to show respect, so time to swallow that bitter pill myself.
“I can go to Columbia,” offered Rafe. “See what I can learn about Barranquilla and Medellín.”
“You’re not going to Columbia,” I said.
“I have the military training,” said Rafe. “I can handle myself.”
“You’ll understand if I can’t quite trust you with my best interests right now.” I tried hard to be diplomatic, since Wilde told me to listen to what the man said. Thankfully, others around the table had my back. Several of them nodded, agreeing with me.
“It’s too dangerous,” said Graff. “Military experience or not.”
“Agreed,” said Wilde. “No one is to go down there until all other options are exhausted.”
Rafe shook his head, obviously pissed. But he had been shut down twice today: once with the Parisi money, second with no solo trips to Colombia. He would’ve probably come back with a deal for the Mafia instead of protecting his new brothers. Shutting him down was half as good as beating him in the ring. I beamed just a little.
But Wilde leaned over and smacked me upside the head. “Get your shit together, Sas, or you’ll find yourself out of the club. This is a good start.”
“Is it?” I asked. “What are we telling the Rojas brothers in three days?”
“Two.” Graff held up two fingers as if I couldn’t understand the word.
“We’ll figure that out tomorrow,” said Wilde. “You have your marching orders for now.”
“Two days,” said Rafe in a voice small enough I nearly didn’t catch it. “You have two days after losing last night to your party.”
“Two is better than none,” I said.
Our newest officer rubbed his jawline. “We’ll need a day to get hands on the cash if we have to.”
“We’ll get it figured out,” I said, affirming as much to myself more than anyone else.
Rafe gave a slow shake of his head, clearly not believing us. “Prez.” He turned to Wilde. “We need to put up a front like we’re going to do what the Medellín Cartel wants with the Barranquilla, or it will be all over for us. Money or not, they will come for our heads.”
Rat-tat-tat-bang!
Then, that stupid fairy-like chime Duchess programmed into the doorbell contraption started. I jerked back, reaching for my gun. My brothers moved with me, grabbing their pieces from their backs. No one ever knocked on the door or rang, so every muzzle in the room trained on the front door as we all prepared for an attack.