Boz
BANGING THE gavel against the table, I take my seat. “Let’s get this shit started.”
A few of the old timers are a little slow taking their seats, so I wait before I start speaking. “Transporting guns has brought more money into the Club than we’ve seen in years.”
The money we make from the shipments has finally put the club in the black, and all the members are getting a share now. We’re not rolling in the dough, but we’re getting there. This shit could destroy it all and have us right back where we started from.
“We need the transport money to keep coming in,” I say, looking around the room. “Without it, we’d be fucked again.”
“Hell yeah,” one of the new member shouts from his spot by the wall. “No one wants to sign on with a club that doesn’t keep their members’ pockets lined.”
I glare at his ass, letting him know he’s gonna have to deal with me later, and go on. “If it wasn’t for Dad running us into the ground, I never would have started taking these shipments, but I didn’t have a choice. We make a chunk on the junkyard, but not enough to keep us in beer and pussy.”
“We already voted on it, and we’re all good with running guns for the Slayers. Why are you bringing this shit up now?” a long time brother asks. “What the fuck’s wrong now?”
The boys have become accustomed to bad news. Shit, that’s all we ever got when Dad was in charge. Money wasn’t the only thing my father screwed up. Before he fucked up, Trenton belonged to the Grim Bastards, and we knew we had to make it ours again. Dad let outsiders come in and run our town. We were nothing more than a token biker club with no power.
After becoming President, gaining control of Trenton was my first order of business. The boys and I locked down the whole damn town; nothing came in or out without our okay. We made sure no other club’s drugs or pussy were being sold within city limits. It took a little time, a lot of blood, and we had to take on a few members that wouldn’t have earned a cut before, but Trenton is now Grim Bastards MC territory again.
“The shipment is lost,” I tell them, looking to the back where Crank just walked in with two black eyes. My anger jumps up another notch at seeing my brother injured.
A chorus of what-the-fucks hit my ears. Taking in a deep breath, I tell them everything I know. At least, what I can tell them about it. The shit with Cherry talking to one of Hoss’s boys is staying between me and my officers. I’m gonna deal with her myself.
When I’m done, one of the old timers shakes his head. “I’ve known Hoss for years. He can be a fucking ass, but he’s not a liar. He agreed to a truce, so he’ll keep his word.”
“I’m telling you, I saw one of their boys,” Crank shouts from the back of the room. Not surprisingly, everyone looks at me.
I lift my chin at Crank and say, “Tell us everything that happened. Don’t leave out one fucking thing.”
Crank goes on, telling everyone what I already know. All my doubts fade as he picks up his shirt and points toward a blood covered bandage. Pulling it back, he shows us a knife wound. It doesn’t look bad, but another inch to the right and it would have gotten his lung.
“I tried to stop the fuckers from taking the guns,” Crank tells us.
Stone, Crank’s dad, looks over to him and growls out, “There’s no excuse, boy.”
The old timer shakes his head and asks his question again, “Why would Hoss do this?”
I ignore the interplay between father and son, while looking around the room. “I can’t figure it out either, but that’s the only lead we’ve got right now. I’m not sure who else would have the balls to fuck with us.”
Round, Smoke and Cherry’s dad, scoots back from the table and stands up. “It could be Torch. You know he goes from club to club. He could be hanging with the Revenge boys now.”
Just the sound of the son of a bitch’s name pisses me the fuck off. He’s a member of a rival club from Nashville. He showed up in town before my father died. Of course, Dad let him hang at the club like he was one of the brothers. I didn’t trust him from the get-go, but Dad didn’t care. The man always had killer weed, and that’s all Dad gave a shit about.
I shake my head and start to say something, but Round cuts me off. “He’s had a hard-on for the club since you ran his ass out of town. You cost him a hell of a lot of money.”
Not long after Torch showed up, he started bringing in meth. Of course, most of us have tried it a time or two, but Torch loved the shit. Now, I don’t have a problem with drugs. Hell, half our income comes from the shit. But, I’ve never seen anything kill a person as fast as meth. Even if they don’t die, the person they were before is gone.
By the time Dad was gone and I ran Torch’s ass out of town, he had already spread it far and wide, making sure half our members got hooked. After I took over, they either got off the shit or gave up their cut. Most cleaned up, but a few walked away. Those that are gone weren’t that big of a loss anyway. More importantly, we lost one of the family, Smoke’s other sister, Shelia.
She had been dating the dick the entire time he was here. Her addiction didn’t show, not like the others. Shelia kept that shit hidden. By the time we found it, Torch was already gone and she was in the throes of withdrawals. Smoke laid into her hard, helped her get clean. He spent the next month watching her like a hawk.
None of that mattered, though; as soon as he left her alone, she hit the road. We didn’t hear anything from her until Smoke’s mom got a call from the Nashville police. Her daughter’s body had been found in an alley in Nashville, dead from an overdose. Granted, she didn’t die from Torch’s hands, but he’s the one that put the needle in her arm the first time. If it wasn’t for him, she’d still be here.
“No, Round, I don’t think it’s him this time,” I reply. “But, we need to keep our ear to the ground, just in case.”
“I’m telling y’all, I saw a few of the Revenge boys!” Crank shouts again, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Did you not hear me? Nothing you can say matters. You fucked up,” Stone says, standing up and walking over to his son. He knocks Crank in the side of the head. “Keep your mouth shut. You’ve already caused enough trouble.”
Brew scoots back in his chair and looks at Crank, completely ignoring Stone’s order. “I thought you said you saw one of his boys, not a few.”
I lean forward, laying my hands on the table. “Which is it, Crank, one or a few?”
“It was a few. Just a fucking slip of the tongue, brother,” he says, looking between his dad and my Sergeant at Arms.
“If it was Hoss and his crew, what are we gonna do to get our shit back?” Stone asks as he takes his seat. “We can’t lose those guns.”
I cross my arms on the table and lean forward. “We’re gonna hit him where it hurts. I’m gonna take the one thing that means more than anything to him—his little princess, Trix. We either get the guns back or money to replace them. Until he hands over the shipment or proves he doesn’t have it, we’ll keep her here with us.”
After I get done detailing my plan, I stand up and point to Crank. “I know you’re hurt, brother, but do you feel like helping pick Trix up?”
“I can do that,” he says with an easy smile.
I shake my head at his confidence, staring at his two black eyes. “I’m not sure you can, brother. That’s why you’re taking Brew with you. He’s gonna let me know if you fuck anything up. If you do, you’ll pay.”
“We got this, Pres.” Brew scoots away from the table and stands up.
The image of the hot chick that I nearly claimed fills my head: those long legs and that wavy, blonde hair. Trix hasn’t left my mind since that night. If Dad hadn’t fucked up so much shit, she’d be by my side now. Even with all the shit that went down, I still want her. If I didn’t know it would have caused more trouble for the club, I would have done it anyway.
Knowing I still want her, I look from Crank to Brew. “Go in easy. Keep it clean and don’t hurt her.”