Chapter Six

 

RYAN

 

I'm a free man. The words feel strange in my head. They let me out of the station and I head back, my body aching from the unholy beating that big bastard did on me.

He could've done less, but there's that dedication to the job. You have to respect somebody like that, someone who's willing to go the extra mile. Maybe if some of his boys had been such eager beavers, I wouldn't have gotten caught up in this shit.

McCallister? Shit. There's no way I'm going to run into the guy. I don't even know any of his guys. How am I supposed to get in with a guy like that?

If I could join an outfit with that kind of clout, why the fuck would I even be doing any of this?

I don't need to answer that. I already know that I would do it again in a heartbeat. If I'd had an in with him, then it would have just been a matter of time until I was already sitting in the saddle of an Indian with a raven's head painted on the gas tank.

No way out of what I've done, not for me. Not a chance in hell. So I do what I always do when I'm in trouble. I pull out the phone.

Logan answers the phone the second time I call. Like he always does. The son of a bitch has a modern phone. He knows who's calling. But he still plays some fuckin' phone-call screening games. Like if it's important I'll call back.

"Yeah?"

"I got trouble." I can practically hear him start moving through the phone. The sound of his pistol racking a round into the chamber sounds through the earpiece. "Meet me at the bar."

Logan grunts his understanding. I hang up first. The next call is to Brian. The third is to a cab. They pick me up ten minutes later, and I'm checking the paint on my Indian.

The cops were about as gentle with it as you'd expect. They knocked the fuckin' thing over on the way in. God damned typical. Did they not realize how much it cost to repair this fucking paint job?

The raven, though, is fine. Not scraped at all. I let out a breath of relief. It looks good, the whole thing. If it weren't for finding it laying flat on the asphalt, I might not be able to tell I hadn't just driven it off the lot.

Brian's bike beside it tells me that he already saw it, and walked right on by. I had to thank him for that. Logan drives up just as I kick the stand back down and lean the old girl over.

"You're going to have to move into the twenty-first century at some point, little brother."

"Fuck you," I tell him reflexively. He's watching me pick up my bike and giving me shit about it?

"What's the trouble?"

"Not here."

I guide Logan inside to find Brian already pouring out a drink for himself. I signal for him to pour two more, and he reaches down for the glasses from the freezer.

"You look like hell, man," Brian remarks as I turn to lock the door behind me, the sun already down. If this were someone's usual spot, he'd already be sitting at that bar across from Brian, but it isn't.

"You look great, too, Brian. You going to spend all day talking about my looks, or what?"

"Hey, man, I'm just saying. You look like you got run over by a truck."

"Great, then give me my fuckin' beer."

I take it off the table and swallow a heavy mouthful, enjoying the bitter taste and the burn on the way down. Jesus, we should get out of moving drugs, I think. If someone actually came in to drink this stuff, we might be able to sell some of it.

"How long you going to keep us waiting, man? What's got you riled up?"

I suck a breath through my teeth. "We got trouble. Cop trouble."

"Then we go down south."

"I didn't get the impression it was the kind of problem that would go away any time soon. Nor the kind of problem that they'd have any problem solving south of the border."

"Okay, what, then?"

"This don't go outside this bar, or outside the three of us. That much clear?"

"Come on, man, I don't have time for this shit. I got places to be. Spit it out or fuckin' keep it to yourself."

"I got picked up today. They got nothin', cut me loose. But they said that McCallister is going to try something. Unless we want to get our shit cut off, we need to make sure that we get him first."

"When that shit happens—if it happens—then we'll figure out what to do about it then, but I ain't jumping for the cops."

"Then do it because I asked you to."

"Look at this, Brian," Logan said, his voice already holding more laughter than I liked. "Little bro's getting ideas in his head. Thinks we do what we ask him to."

I burned hot, but I drank another mouthful and kept my mouth shut. If this was what it took to get my brothers to listen to me, then I'd deal with it.

"Look, you going to help me or not?"

"McCallister's boys are taking plenty of our business," Brian said, more to their older brother than as an answer. "We could probably do a lot better for ourselves without him causing trouble for us."

"I don't know why the fuck you're asking me. I ain't even part of your god damned club."

"Oh, is that the problem? Brian, reach down behind the bar, get Logan that Raven I have back there for him." I waited for Brian to grab it and drop the patch on the counter. "You know you can have it the minute you want it. Founding member and everything."

"Won't that cause trouble with your boys?"

"Man, fuck that."

Logan's thinking about it, and I can tell he is, but then he pushes the patch away. "Let's say I help you."

"Let's say you do," I offer.

"What do you need my fuckin' help for, anyways? What are we supposed to do that big, bad Ryan Beauchamp can't do himself?"

"You can be a real fuckin' asshole, you know that, Logan?"

Brian laughed at Logan's jab, and then laughed more at my response.

"Well, if you think we can help, you know you got our help."

"First thing we need to do, I figure, is get his attention," I growl. There's more to the plan, but we need to keep an eye on something close. Short goals, things we can complete easily. Nothing too complex or far away.

"And how, pray tell, do you figure we do that?"

"We get him interested in us, and we get him interested by moving some stuff for him."

"You know he's got his own boys moving stuff, right? No way he needs some outside freelancers to come in and take over his business for him."

"That's what he thinks, sure. That's what anyone would think, a club his size. The business part of his club probably only takes a tenth of his members, and then they don't even probably work all the time."

"Are you going to be the one to tell him he's fuckin' wrong?"

"That's exactly who I'm going to be." I can feel the smile already twisting across my face. "I'm going to steal his dope from him, and I'm going to make damn sure he knows who did it."