Chapter Fourteen
Clint
I’d been to San Bernardino a couple of times. It was on the eastern edge of the Los Angeles metro area. It was dusty and rocky, the spot where California stopped being a concrete jungle and soared up into the mountains.
The jury was still out on whether or not I actually liked Southern California. The freeways were fast as hell but dangerous, and the competition from other clubs was huge. The Demon Horde was one of the bigger clubs, with us being the farthest north in Tacoma. We had chapters in Modesto, Oakland, San Fran, Salem, and a bunch of other cities through California and Oregon. But here in Southern California, the fight for turf was fierce.
Many clubs opted for the smash and grab, bloodier methods for expansion. So far, the Demon Horde preferred to let their economic ventures slowly win the war on territory. We’d start a business and once supply lines were solid, we’d just move into that area. The local club would either join up and share the profits or move on. It made takeovers a hell of a lot easier when we had already made a name for ourselves in that area.
After pulling up to the tiny bar where the Horde made its California headquarters, I parked my bike and went inside. At four in the afternoon, the place was empty. The bartender was a hot blonde, and she grinned when I walked in.
“Hey, traveler,” she said as she pulled a glass out of the freezer. “You want a Budweiser? We’ve been waiting for you.”
“Thanks...” I paused, waiting for her to tell me her name.
“Traci.” She winked and handed me the ice-cold draft. “You’ll find Volk in the last booth by the john.”
“Thanks, Traci.” I nodded to her and found his booth.
* * *
After a long conversation, I drained the last of my beer. Traci had brought us refills a while back, so it was still cold on my throat.
“That’s a big request,” I said, trying to wrap my brain around what Volk had laid down. “You want me to not only set up a business with our contact in Reno to import vehicles, but you also want me to figure out how to patch in the Silver Souls?”
“Yep.” Volk agreed. “It’s a lot, I know. That’s why I asked Tate if I could talk to you about it. I like businessmen in my club. They’re a hell of a lot more useful than drug pushers and fighters. We need muscle sometimes when things get nasty, but most often I need brains. You got brains, son—I think you can do this.”
“It’s gonna take some time.” I ran my fingers through my hair, thinking. “The Silver Souls hate the Horde. I also don’t know how they’re doing financially.”
“Yeah, those are definitely problems.” Volk finished off his whiskey. “I’ll need to send a fixer out there to look at their books, the way I sent Colt up to Tacoma. They gotta get earning before I’ll patch ’em in. But all you need to worry about is establishing the deal with George in Reno and just start to make friends with the Souls. Repair your relationship with them and then the next step will be getting them to consider the patch-over. While you’re out there, see if you can get intel on how many people are in their club. We might need to swell their numbers.”
“Shit.” I realized what Volk was planning. “They need to be financially viable and have large numbers if they’re gonna defend Reno. The Riot Riders own Carson City, just south of Reno. You’re preparing for a battle.”
The Riot Riders were huge on the West Coast. Taking over Reno was an easy way for Volk to communicate that he was coming for them. It was going to be the first shot in a war.
“I knew you were smart, kid. But yeah, that’s the long-term goal.” Volk took a drink of his beer. “They’re making inroads into some of our business down here in SoCal and I need them gone. I’m just playing the long game. But in the short term, I need you to make the first deal on the import business. No blood, no bullets while you’re in Reno? Got it?”
I nodded. “Yeah, I’ll keep it clean.”
“Good.” Volk slid out of the booth. “I can’t afford to start a war with Reno and then expect to win Carson City. We gotta make allies first so we can keep the ranks together. I gotta go. See ya at Chapel tonight.”
An hour later, my conversation with Volk still had me reeling. He was starting a turf war with one of the most violent clubs in the west. I wasn’t about to tell anyone, but the Riot Riders scared the shit out of me. I would just need to suck it up. My club needed me and I was gonna come through for them.
I sat, alone, at a booth in the bar. Traci was keeping me supplied with beer and French fries until Maori, the unofficial treasurer, got off work and could take me to get the remains of the cash for my shop. After my second basket of fries, I was sick of hearing myself think. I rummaged through my pocket for a quarter for the jukebox, but I had no change.
“Another beer?” Traci asked from my right. I hadn’t heard her walk up.
“Actually, you got change for the jukebox?” I asked her, holding up a dollar bill.
“Yeah, I think so.” She dug in her jeans pocket and pulled out a handful of change.
There, among the quarters and dimes in Traci’s hand, were two medallions. I recognized them instantly. Both bronze.
“Five years, huh?” I asked. “Gambling isn’t a woman’s game.”
“Santa Anita racetrack is a fun place to be.” She shrugged and placed four quarters on the table. “If you know what those medallions are, then it’s probably your game too.”
“One year.” I put my hand in my pocket to dig out my token and then remembered I didn’t have it. “I left it at home for safekeeping.”
“Safekeeping, huh?” Traci laughed, and slid into the seat across from me. “She have a name?”
“Jo.” I ducked my head. I’d been caught. The only reason a gambler gave away his tokens was to a woman.
“Too bad it’s serious,” Traci said, winking at me. “I was gonna ask you out myself.”
Traci was smoking hot, and if I wasn’t crazy about Jo, I would have taken her up on her offer.
“Maybe you’ll get your chance.” I tried to smile. “I’m her boss and she’s already told me no. A couple of times.”
“Oh, honey.” Traci reached over and squeezed my hand. “You gotta stay away. If you’re her boss, you’ll never know if it’s real between you or if she’s just fucking you because she doesn’t want to lose her job. Let her have her own space. That’s the only way you’ll get her. I’ll go put something on the jukebox for you.”
Traci got up and left, and I watched her walk away. She was petite, blond, hot. But all I could think about was a tall woman with tight brown curls.
I crashed at Maori’s place until we got the money transfer worked out. Bulldog, a prospect from SoCal, was transferring up to Tacoma, so he was riding back north with me. By the time I got business and everything taken care of, I was a day late. I made arrangements with my mom to take care of Nana for another day.
“Do you need to talk to Jo?” Mom asked on the phone.
Yes. I wanted to hear her voice. But what would I say? I remembered Traci’s advice. I had to let Jo come to me. I was her boss, so I had to stay away.
“No thanks,” I said. “I’ll see you all when I get home in a couple of days.”