I was at my desk in the clubhouse, pouring over files. Jager hadn’t just come through with my request for Devils’s properties, he’d already compiled that shit on the first search. Not even ten minutes after I called him for that shit, I had it in my hands.
That had been three days ago. That night, the reconnaissance mission started. We were stretched thin adding that to patrols, but it had to be done. I’d been moving through the list of properties systematically. It wasn’t just about finding out where they were packaging and storing their product, it was about knowing everywhere they might be, everywhere they had resources. It was about knowing our enemy inside and out before we made a move.
The last was why the list was staying in my hands, not being sent out to the Mayhem brothers. We weren’t ready for them to go maverick with that intel.
They were antsy, as was evident by my phone ringing with a Portland number. Vic had gotten tired of Roadrunner giving him the runaround, so now this shit had stepped up to president to president. I’d been on the line with Vic three times in as many days, asking for updates.
Not even remotely in the mood to deal with that shit, I ignored the call.
Five fucking minutes later, it rang again. I didn’t even look. That shit wasn’t worth it.
I’d just made the final decision about where to send the guys tonight when the pounding started on the door.
“Yeah?”
Ham dipped his head in. “Daz called in. Says we need to get down to the club right now.”
He didn’t bother waiting, and he didn’t need to. I was out of my chair, heading out right behind him. It was only on the move that I looked at the phone to see that second call had been Daz. This shit was fucking with my head so much I’d ignored him when something was going down.
Fuck.
Gauge, Slick, and Hook were outside mounting their bikes when I got there, each taking off without wasting time. I was right behind them, bracing for whatever was going to be thrown at us now.
Candy Shop was about a fifteen-minute ride from the clubhouse. We pulled into the lot in seven. The first thing that stood out was that the lot was empty. It was late afternoon, so the place wasn’t open yet. But by now, most of the staff was usually in getting ready for the evening.
I swung off my bike next to Ham and asked, “He say anything about what we’re walking into?”
“Nothin’. Just demanded we get our asses down here.”
Not fucking good.
We made it through the doors, only to pause in the entry when we saw Daz in the middle of the floor, one of the bouncers tied to a chair in front of him. He didn’t even turn to look at us, even though I knew he heard us come in.
“What the fuck is going on?” I demanded.
He didn’t answer. Not right away. Instead, he reeled back and threw a punch right at the guy’s jaw. It wasn’t the first, not with the swelling and blood already on his face.
I closed the gap between us before grabbing my brother by the arm and ordering, “Explain.”
The asshole in the chair was whimpering like a little bitch, and I heard Ham tell him to knock that shit off, but I was focused on Daz. He was practically fucking snarling as he stood there, getting his breath. The only other time I’d seen him so ready to lose it was before he beat the shit out of the guy that stole from Avery. The assault that I’d copped to.
“This fucking cunt,” he snapped, an arm going out to the guy in the chair, who whimpered again, “brought this shit into my club.”
He flung something small at me that I grabbed mid-air. I barely glanced at the insignia on the baggie before I passed it on. I didn’t say a damn thing, but Daz caught the message either way. I wanted an explanation.
“Avery stopped by when everyone was getting in. One of the girls called her, asked if she could come by. She thought that shit was about helping with some moves. Turns out, she felt more comfortable telling Avery that this fucker offered her that shit, trying to fucking impress. She knew the score. She knew I don’t allow that shit in here, and she said she wasn’t interested in anything he was offering. Avery filled me in. She handled getting everyone else out while I got him out here to have a chat. Found that shit in his pocket.”
I looked to Ham, nodding in the direction of the prick in the chair, but Daz shot up again.
“This one’s mine.”
Ham stepped back, hands up. Candy Shop might have belonged to the club, but it was Daz’s brainchild. He had the idea, he put in all the legwork, he ran the fucking place on his own. This might have been bigger than blow in his club, but that shit still happened.
Daz wasn’t waiting for my okay. He got back in that fucker’s face, grabbing his jaw in an iron grip right where he’d landed the last blow. The cry he released only proved Daz’s aim was true.
“Where’d you get that shit?” I asked.
Not seeming to grasp the severity of the situation, he just sat there whimpering. Daz, livid though he was, waited for my command. I gave him a jerk of my chin, and he threw a fist right into the asshole’s stomach.
“I don’t like repeating myself. I’ll ask once more. You make me do it again, they’ll be fishing a bullet out of your fucking leg. Got me?” He whimpered through a nod that probably hurt like a bitch with Daz’s grip holding strong. “Where did you get the blow?”
“Some guy approached me at a party,” he started, his voice trembling.
“When?” I cut in.
“A couple weeks ago? I don’t know.”
My eyes cut to Daz, who tightened his hand while he brought the other arm up, but he didn’t get a chance to strike.
“Three weeks ago!” the asshole cried out. “Three weeks ago, Saturday.”
“Who was he?”
He answered right away, wising up. “He went by Dog. He had a fucked up ear, and he wore a vest like you guys.”
Dog was one of the Devils all right. At least there wasn’t some other middleman to track down.
“You tell him where you work?”
Again, the answers came quickly. “Didn’t have to. I went right there after work.”
I watched as Daz’s hand tightened reflexively. All the bouncers and bartenders wore shirts that had the Candy Shop logo on them. There was nothing wrong with that shit, even if he was thinking right then that there was. It would be something to address later. Much later.
“Where was this party?”
“Denning,” he answered. Almost thirty minutes out of Hoffman.
Of all situations that could have led to this shit, it was the best. Odds were that bastard Dog stumbled onto the opening, took advantage. It wasn’t set up.
That didn’t do a damn thing to calm the fire in my gut, though.
“He tell you to sell it here? To go after the girls?”
The asshole’s eyes got wide, and I had my answer before he stuttered out, “N-n-no.”
No. It’d be what Dog was hoping for, but it was all on this motherfucker who thought he could look like a big man and get his dick wet.
“So you brought that shit here on your own accord? Onto Disciples’ property?”
He looked about ready to piss himself, and I hoped like fuck he was at least that bit resilient enough. Nothing worse than some pussy making a mess someone had to clean up.
“I…I was…I mean…” He was too scared to form together a line of bullshit to feed me.
I flicked my eyes to Daz, who was all too ready to punch the fucker again, going lower this time.
“Mind the bladder, man,” Ham put in on the same train of thought as me. “We don’t have a prospect anymore who gets the duty of cleaning that shit.”
That was Ham, even in the face of shit like this, the brother had jokes. I didn’t bother looking at Hook to see his reaction. The kid was made of ice.
I kept my focus on the little shit in the chair, trying to curl in on himself despite Daz’s hold and the ropes. “You were thinking you would spend your work hours around a bunch of hot women that don’t give you the time of day. You were thinking that shit you bought would make a difference. What you weren’t thinking of was the warning you should have heeded when we took you on here. You don’t bring that shit around. Not ever. You hear me?”
“Y-y-yes, sir.” Still with the stuttering. It was hard to tell for sure with the sweat pouring off him and his face swelling up, but it sounded like he was crying.
Christ, I had no patience for this shit.
“Last question. You got a line to Dog? To get more of that shit?”
He shook his head, and Daz jarred him hard enough that I heard a crack before he screamed, “No!”
“No?”
He was definitely sobbing now, and I was done. Leaning forward, I shouldered Daz back and wrapped a hand around his throat. “Words, asshole. How were you meant to restock without a number for him?”
“The guys that own the house the party was at, they have one nearly every weekend. He said if I wanted more, I could find him there.”
There it was. The slow play, then. Get someone in our club involved, then make him come back for more. No hard approach, that was too likely to raise alarms. It was smart, surprisingly so for that group of brain-dead assholes.
I let go of the guy’s neck, bringing my hand up to pat his cheek hard a few times, right where the worst of the damage to his jaw seemed to be, enjoying the little cries that accented each one.
Stepping away, I turned to look at my brothers.
“I’m done.” They all knew what that meant. We’d been playing the waiting game, making smart moves to keep shit under control. No more. They’d targeted Candy Shop. Dog knew exactly what he was doing when he saw that logo. “Calling in Mayhem. This shit ends now.”
“What do you want done with that fucker?” Gauge asked.
Daz was still staring him down, hands tight in fists, waiting for my order.
“Teach him a lesson that sticks.”
I heard Daz crack his knuckles. “Anyone else want a shot before I finish up?”
I was already headed to the door but pulled up short when Hook spoke up. “Which girl?”
Turning, I noticed the tension in the kid, as if it weren’t obvious in how he’d snapped the words.
“Candy,” Daz answered.
Without a word, Hook stepped forward. The trained, lethal fighter Jager had honed was more than evident in the efficient, flawless blow he landed in the fucker’s temple, making him slump unconscious against his bounds. Hook didn’t linger, he walked right past me and out, the sound of his bike revving coming through the doors moments later.
“The fuck?” Ham muttered.
“Saw him talking to her at the party before that shit went down with Jamie,” Slick put in.
“Asshole knocked him out,” Daz bitched.
“You got your shots,” Gauge pointed out.
“Not enough.” Daz was right. Candy Shop was his, and he deserved to dish out retribution, but that last shot belonged to Hook.
“You’ll get your shot,” I told him. “At Dog.”
The last thing I saw before I went outside to make the call to Mayhem was his sadistic fucking smile.