CHAPTER SEVEN
“A snitch?” Priest says with deadly calm. Deadly enough to make me wish I wasn’t sitting next to Sway right now. “How’d he make it to an officer’s position?”
To Sway’s credit, he doesn’t flinch or weasel through his answer. “There were no signs, Prez. Another member vouched for him. As soon as I found out, I handled it.”
“And where’s the member who vouched for the rat?”
“We dealt with him.”
“Something that’s gonna come back on us?”
“No,” Sway answers with complete calm, as if that whole situation wasn’t an epic fuckup. “The problem’s been handled,” he repeats gravely.
Sway’s always been a smooth bullshitter. Capable of telling you something’s been done without divulging any actual details. It’s served him well over the years.
Seems like that’s about to end.
Priest settles back as if he’s about to deliver a long lecture. “Law enforcement infiltrating your club—”
“They didn’t infiltrate our club,” Sway spits through clenched teeth.
Blink, national’s SAA, moves in closer, which makes me think the odds of Sway walking out of this room are not in his favor. Maybe Tawny had the right idea about bailing on this trip.
“They turned a brother. A brother you patched into your club turned on every single one of us.”
This sure went to shit fast.
“And I handled it as soon as I found out,” Sway repeats. Shit, if he makes it out alive, maybe I’ll get that printed on a shirt for him.
“Why the fuck did it take you so long to figure it out is what I want to know.”
“I thought I could trust him,” Sway answers. It’s a weak fucking answer. Maybe that’s not fair, but that’s how it is in our world.
Stitching that President patch onto your cut means you’re responsible for everything that happens under your watch.
“Aside from your snitch problem,” Priest continues, ignoring Sway’s outburst. “Earnings have been way down.” He stares at Sway with a raised brow.
No wonder Sway’s been nosing around my club, involving his club in riskier activities, and trying to steal my enforcer.
Yeah, I haven’t forgotten that last one.
Wrath’s as loyal and hardworking as a brother can be. A pain in my damn ass, sure, but he’s one of the best brothers this entire organization has. I’m probably lucky other charters haven’t tried to poach him from me sooner. Although, his generally grim attitude and hatred for everyone doesn’t exactly make him approachable.
Sway’s a hard-assed motherfucker, so the probing questions don’t seem to rattle him as much as piss him off. Let’s face it, being a president of an outlaw MC means you’re generally not used to answering to anyone but yourself.
He sits forward and adopts an almost humble pose. Well, humble for Sway. “Rock set us up with an associate of his, and we’re working on some things.”
Feel free to leave me out of your excuses, Sway.
“Elaborate on these things,” Priest demands in a smooth, not-up-for-discussion tone.
“Weapons. High-end ARs. Moving them from the south and delivering them to Rock’s guy.”
Priest leans forward. “You think daring the ATF to take a closer look at your club’s a good idea right now?”
The correct answer is no. I wait to see what Sway will come up with.
“We’re airtight on this one, Priest. But I have other things in the works in case we decide to end the gun deal.”
“Such as?”
“Entertainment. I’ve invested in an independent porn production company. So far it’s been profitable.”
A few whistles and filthy words of encouragement go around the room.
Once again, pussy will probably save Sway’s ass.
Or maybe not.
Priest adjourns the meeting. It won’t be the last time we see him. For the rest of the weekend he’ll probably hunt us down one by one for more individual consultations.
“Rock, stick around for a minute,” Priest commands. He kicks out the chair next to him to make it clear “no” isn’t an option.
I guess I’m in for a long session right now.
Sway lingers by the door, obviously bothered that Priest has singled me out first.
I’d happily trade places with the jackass.
It’s not fear making me reluctant. Priest doesn’t scare me, nor should he. Compared to everything else I heard today, I’m a goddamn rock star.
And that’s what’s bugging me.
Sometimes being too good at your job can get you in more trouble than being shitty at your job.
“You can leave, Sway. We’ll talk later,” Priest says without turning around. Motherfucker always had eyes in the back of his head.
Sway shuts the door behind him.
“Sit. Have a drink with me, Rock.” He slides a glass my way and reaches for a bottle of whiskey, hesitates and grabs a bottle of Scotch instead.
Remembering what I drink? Fuck, if that’s not a bad sign.
“Thank you,” I say after he finishes pouring.
“You’re not worried about why I asked you to stick around?” he asks.
“Not at all. Figured you planned to have some one-on-one conversations.”
“I’m impressed.”
I wait for him to expand on what exactly it is he’s impressed with before speaking.
He nods as if he expected me to keep my mouth shut.
“You’re a damn fine president. Earning real well for the club, which is appreciated more than you know.”
“Thank you. We’re not doing anything special.”
“You’re humble. Maybe too humble. Makes a man like me wonder what you’re trying to hide.”
That he’s trying to catch me off-guard isn’t a surprise. I take a sip of my drink and wait. He’s not looking for me to defend myself.
“You’re smarter.” He waves his hand around, indicating the massive wood table. “Probably smarter than all of them. We could use you on the national board.”
There it is. Exactly what I’d been worried might happen.
It’s not a lack of ambition on my part. It’s more of an I-have-a-low-tolerance-for-bullshit issue. National would leave me swimming in shit on a regular basis, not to mention my clubhouse becoming the point of contact for every other charter. Nor do I want to be taking orders from people any more than I already have to.
No fucking thank you.
“By that muscle ticking in your jaw, you’re thinking ‘no fucking way,’ am I right?” He smirks and sits back, stretching his legs in front of him.
“It’s not that I don’t appreciate the compliment—”
“I don’t give a fuck about stroking your ego, Rock,” he says, cutting me off. “I care about keeping our organization headed in the right direction.” He points to a spot at the end of the table where one of the presidents from our Washington charter had been sitting. “On paper, they should be making ten times what your club makes. Yet, we’ve had to bail them out twice in the last five years. Too fucking busy stirring up a war with another club over the border.”
“That’s bound to happen in our world, Priest.”
“You think I don’t know that? I understand better than most. My point is, they don’t have the numbers to take over that territory. It was a stupid fucking move that brought a lot of eyes on them, so now they can’t do shit without cops in their business.”
A big enough bust could ripple throughout the whole organization, especially if the government tries to tack on a RICO charge. Every single one of us knows this.
“So not only are they draining us, they’re putting all of us at risk.”
“You plannin’ to cut ’em loose?”
“Not yet. Pony took over after Simon got locked up. Swears he can fix it.” He narrows his eyes, signaling the conversation’s about to shift. “You also went to war with another club.”
“The Vipers brought it to us.”
“But you ended it. With minimal exposure.”
“Except for them burning down one of our legit businesses, yes.”
“But that’s been taken care of, yeah?”
“Wrath’s in the middle of the rebuild right now.”
He nods and scratches his beard. It’s more of a thoughtful gesture than an itch. “You’ve been busy making alliances with other clubs, something that benefits all of us. Befriending Iron Bulls gets us access through Arizona and New Mexico. That was a good deal.”
I shrug. “Can’t fight off law enforcement if we’re always fighting each other.”
“Exactly. Half these assholes don’t get that concept. Think being an outlaw means being a lazy piece of shit who picks fights and draws attention to himself so he can prove he has the biggest dick.”
“Every single one of my guys busts his ass for the club.” I crack a smile. “And they’re all confident in their dick size.”
He actually snorts with laughter. “I don’t doubt it. I know your club’s small. I understand why you want it that way.” His gaze sweeps over the spot Sway’d been in earlier. “How ’bout Sway’s club? Would they fit in with your guys?”
Fuck no. This is a bad sign, but I keep my passive expression in place. “Some of ’em, yeah. Why?”
“This business with having a snitch isn’t sitting well with me, Rock. Worse, he fuckin’ lied and tried to keep it from me.”
“I didn’t realize that.” Don’t blame Sway. I probably woulda tried to keep that quiet too.
“That wife of his is volatile. Unpredictable. He’s never been able to keep a leash on her. Didn’t even come with him. Another bad sign.”
I don’t offer any excuses for Tawny or Sway because it’s not my business.
“You and I both know a pissed-off female or one ill-timed snitch can cripple an entire organization,” he says. “We’ve seen it happen with other clubs.”
And in Priest’s eyes, Sway has two of those problems.
A heavy awareness settles in my gut. Now isn’t the time to open my mouth. I need to figure out where Priest plans to end up with this before I offer any opinions.
“What’s your opinion on this porn thing he’s got going on?”
An easy way for Sway to fuck a porn star? “Don’t have enough information to form an opinion on it yet.”
He nods slowly. “Keep an eye on it.”
Just what I need.
Since taking over the upstate chapter, I’ve been careful to keep my club separate from Sway’s. Yeah, we occupy the same state, but we keep out of each other’s business. Not that we don’t help each other out when we need to, but I’ve never been one hundred percent okay with how Sway runs things and I’m sure he thinks I’m a pussy for the way I run my club. Since neither of us have to answer to the other, it doesn’t really matter.
“We are our brother’s keeper,” Priest says, breaking the silence. There’s fire in his eyes when he finishes his thought. “But you can only help a brother swim for so long before he ends up dragging you under and you both drown.”