THIRTY-NINE

Hooch

Six patched Harley riders cruising into the parking lot would make any motel owner nervous, but when we’re miles from somewhere friendly to layover our options are limited. Money talks, and before the hour is out the guys have crammed themselves into one of the four rooms we rented for the night, playing caps.

I hang around in the covered walkway, enjoying the laughter that drifts from the open door. Murphy steps out, joining me in the cool night air, his eyes immediately honing in on the same thing I look at.

Digits sits astride his bike on the far side of the lot, talking on the phone.

“Who does he need to dial up this time of night?”

“Fucked if I’d know, considerin’ he shot the only piece of ass he’s got to check in with back home.”

“Kind of what I was gettin’ at, brother.”

We’re somewhere around three hours from our destination—a house in the suburbs, that’s all I know. The snake’s kept his cards close, and to say that pisses me off would be an understatement.

“I want this to be one big fuckin’ misunderstanding, you know?”

Murphy nods, plucking a smoke from his pack. “Aye. You know it won’t be though.”

“Yeah, I know.” My gun’s loaded and on me at all times, and it’s not from risk of enemies stumbling over our whereabouts.

It’s friendly fire I’m ready for.

“None of this is your fault, you realize that?”

I glance at Murphy as he lights his stick, eyeballing me to make sure I understand. “All I want is for our club to get back to basics. For the guys to fuckin’ get along.” I turn my head and watch Digits as he pockets the phone. “But it seems like such a goddamn pipedream these days.”

“It won’t always be like this.”

“Won’t it?”

The day King sat me down and detailed his dream to steer our clubs away from the illegal business we’re wrapped up in, and streamline our profits from above board, moral avenues, I was so goddamn proud of him. Everything he said made sense, and although it would mean a huge hit to earnings, I could see it working.

Cut the drug supply out of our cities, work with youth to deter beginner crimes and steer them in the right direction, encourage growth within local businesses so that the young and restless had legitimate ways to earn.

Do the fucking things we’ve always pretended to do to keep the heat off our clubs. Be the men we say we are.

And it worked for a while. Coke and ice usage dropped within the first months. Youth crime rates dropped by seven percent, and the Fallen Aces hired a lawyer to look over some legitimate investment options for when our debt to the Koreans is paid off.

We had a five-year plan that looked like it would be done in three. And now I look across a cracked and rutted fucking parking lot at the man I used to trust with these kinds of ideas, and wonder how many others in the room behind me are fucking me over without my knowledge?

Who the hell can I trust? You know who. Yeah, I do, but what’s the point in fighting for Dagne if I don’t have any way to provide for her? I’m male—it’s in my DNA. I provide for and protect those I care about. It’s just what I do.

Murphy stamps his cigarette out and pats me on the shoulder as he turns for the motel room. “Don’t think too hard on it, son.” His gaze flits to Digits as he climbs off his bike. “We go to this address tomorrow and see what we find. Maybe we shut down whoever is using the Wingmen, maybe we don’t. Either way we’re ridin’ back one lighter.” His dark eyes find mine, the wisdom and experience in them almost tangible. “Best you remember that.”

I pull out a cigarette of my own as he disappears inside and Digits crosses the lot to where I stand. The fucking snake has the audacity to smile as he approaches.

“Everything good, pres?”

“Don’t know.” I light the stick, sucking hard. “You tell me.”

“Look,” he says, leaning against an upright for the walkway roof. “I get you can’t trust me at the moment.”

“Oh, it’s not just now,” I scoff. “I don’t think I will ever again.”

His eyes narrow, his jaw hardening. “Anyway.”

I smirk, lifting the cigarette to my lips again.

“I took care of Heather so you didn’t have to. I was doin’ you a favor.” Fucking asshole believes his own bullshit.

I lean in close and cock my head a little. “Do I look like a fuckin’ idiot to you?”

“No.” He straightens against the pole.

“Then why you talkin’ to me like I am one?” I blow the smoke from my lungs into his face and back up, turning to step away when he opens his goddamn trap.

“You’re not an idiot, pres.” I stop dead in my tracks. “You’re fuckin’ weak.”

I turn slowly, checking as I do to see if anyone inside has picked up on the conversation out here. Negative. “Come again?”

“You’re weak.” Jerk puffs his chest out and tips his chin up, daring me to say otherwise. “You fuckin’ fall apart and everyone pats your back like you’re a goddamn hero. You’re nothing but a fuckin’ name. If your old man didn’t have that job before you, you wouldn’t have stood a goddamn chance at gettin’ the gavel.”

I hit him so hard that his head snaps back against the pole. The metal rings like a tuning fork as he shakes the fog in his brain away.

“You think you’d make a better president?” I ask as Murphy and Jo Jo squeeze themselves through the doorway as one.

“What the fuck is goin’ on?” Murphy asks, stepping between us.

Crackers appears behind Jo Jo, giving me a silent nod of solidarity. He gets this.

“Tell them what you just told me,” I say to Digits, jerking my head to the men crowded in the doorway.

He looks them over, scowling. “Can’t tell me none of you don’t feel the same.” Digits jerks his head my way, eyeballing the men. “Only reason Hooch sits at the head of the table is because his old man put him there.” He turns, looking me up and down with disgust. “Why else would we vote in a junkie drunk to lead our club?”

Jo Jo steps back inside the room, as does Timmy-boy who’s along on the trip for experience. I don’t take offense to it; they’re not the kind to get involved in disputes. Jo Jo is the best soldier a man could ask for. He doesn’t have to like you to respect you, and if your name is attached to the top billing, he’ll work for you until he can’t physically move to lift a hand anymore.

“You’re makin’ some pretty hefty accusations there, boy,” Murphy warns.

“I’m tellin’ the truth,” Digits challenges. “When this trip is over, I’m callin’ for a vote of non-confidence.”

“You fuckin’ serious?” Crackers exclaims. “On what grounds?”

“He’s been dealing with feds behind our backs, gettin’ wasted and leavin’ you to take charge, endangering the club by getting sloppy with his fuckin’ executions.”

“Sloppy?” I half laugh.

“Yeah. You buried that body properly, Jessup would never have found it.”

“Maybe I wanted it found?” Just not by the law. The grave was obvious to anyone actively searching so that Carlos would see the job had been done. “How else would Carlos believe his idiots had topped Mel?”

“How fuckin’ stupid is that?” Digits shakes his head. “I’m done keeping quiet on your shit, Hooch. You put this club at risk.”

“And what do you fuckin’ care about the club, you conniving, abusive fuckin’ asshole?”

“More than you.”

“That why you’re blatantly breaking bylaws so you can try and get your dick wet where it ain’t welcome?”

“What?” Digits feigns shock as the other men stand in silence, watching on.

“I know what you were doin’ with Dagne, asshole. I saw the messages you sent her, blackmailing her, threatening her to try and get her to submit to you.” I step forward, thrusting my finger in his chest with each final word. “She. Doesn’t. Like. You.”

“Even if it’s unwanted,” he sneers, “the attention I would have given her is more than you have.”

My hand slips to his throat, Murphy’s arm wrapped around my shoulders in response as he tries to coax me off.

“Easy, brother.”

“That how you broke Heather?” I ask, hand still on Digits’ throat. “Abuse and rape her until she gave in?”

“Bitch liked it in the end, didn’t she?”

I push hard against his windpipe as I lift my other hand to join the first, yet Crackers latches on to my wrist and twists me off Digits with Murphy’s help. Blood rushes past my ears as I stare down my VP and SA in turn, settling on Murphy as he mutters. “Either way, remember?”

Right. Now isn’t the time, as much as I’d love to choke the life right out of this no-good traitor. Tomorrow his number is up. Tomorrow he deals the hand he’s been given.

And I hold all the aces.