Yet another bullshit meeting with Loco. I tried to do the right thing and warn the little fuck we might not be able to meet his increased demands. We can rally our regular delivery, but the extra amounts he squeezed me for at our last two meetings might be an issue.
“You call off your western run?” Loco asks me with a straight face.
This motherfucker up in my business again. I swear to fuck I want to kill him.
I should have kept my mouth shut. My mistake for trying to treat a gangster with the respect of a normal businessman. This aspect of outlaw life is the same as working a fucking retail job. Even when my customers irritate the fuck out of me, I’m still under an obligation to maintain a certain level of friendliness.
“Yeah, man, they’re aware of the situation. Sparky’s working his magic to pull the additional amount together in time for your drop.” My emphasis on additional doesn’t make any impression that I can detect.
“I’ll allow you an extra two weeks, Rock. That’s the best I can do.”
Allow? I’m not gonna allow you to walk out of here without a few holes in your lungs if you keep that shit up.
“Thanks, man. We shouldn’t need it. Appreciate it, though.” I don’t appreciate any of this. Loco has been a constant pain in my ass. But until I can get some other things in place, I gotta pretend I don’t want to gut him and toss his body in the Hudson River.
The Hudson River. Mere feet from where we’re standing. Fuck, it’s tempting.
Although it’s galling me to no end—and Wrath almost lost his shit when we took a vote on it—I hand over one of the short barrel rifles Sway gave us. It’s a high-end piece for a street thug, but Loco expressed some interest in obtaining one for his personal collection the last time we met.
He looks through the bag. Probably searching for ammunition to go with the weapon. Fucker won’t find any. I’m not completely suicidal. “Daaamn, brotha. Where’d you come up with this?”
He knows full well I don’t appreciate being called “brother” by anyone who isn’t a Lost King.
“Sort of fell in our lap. But you said you were looking for something along those lines.”
He cocks his head and stares at me. “Thought your crew was outta guns?” He persists.
“We are. That’s a one-time gift. Thanks for your business and all.” I hate every fucking second of this little game.
Loco nods and runs his hand over his chin. I just know whatever he’s going to say next will piss me off. “Rock, be straight with me. Shit like this don’t fall outta trees. Word on the street is your charter down south handles this kind of merchandise.”
I shrug.
He smirks in response. “I also hear they got a problem with Shadow Nation pushing up out of NYC into his territory.”
Sway never mentioned the name of the crew he’s having trouble with. “I don’t have details.”
“Listen, I know your boys down there ain’t as… colorblind as you are,” he says. This is true. While I don’t care about the color of anyone’s skin as long as they deal with me fairly, I can’t say that’s true of everyone in my world. “Introduce me.”
Like fuck. “Can’t.”
“I ain’t askin’ you to get involved. Just make the introduction.” Yeah, except I know what’ll happen. I’m the one in the area, so when problems come up, one of them will be contacting me. It’s a slippery slope I don’t want to set foot on.
“We got a long history, Rock. Your word will have some sway down there.” His smirk tells me he’s done his research.
While he annoys me no end, Loco and his crew have been loyal customers for years. He’s never overtly threatened me. He is pissing me off lately wanting to dominate my entire supply. Although, the more I think about it, in Loco’s twisted, gangster brain, he probably thinks he’s doing me a favor.
“I’ll take it to the table.”
One eyebrow shoots up. Yes, asshole, that’s how our brotherhood works. Gotta put shit like this to a vote. I keep the thought to myself. He wouldn’t understand.
We shake hands and go our separate ways. Thankfully, he left his entourage behind this time.
Z and I meet up at Crystal Ball and head back to the clubhouse. After I fill him in on the meeting, he groans. “Jesus Christ, we can’t get involved in that, prez. Wrath might be right.”
“Yeah, I’d like to avoid it too. I’m gonna put some feelers out to Ulfric and Stump, but they’ve never been able to move that much product. Sway mentioned he might have a connection down his way.”
Z shakes his head. “You know what that’ll mean.”
Yes. What’s worse? Possibly getting involved in Loco’s gun dealing with Sway from time to time, or having Sway involved in every single transaction I make with his contact?
Neither option appeals to me.
I don’t have to say anything. Z knows what I’m thinking.
His hand smacks against the dashboard. “Fuck. Empire’s stable right now. We go messing with GSC, that’s gonna leave their turf vulnerable, and who the fuck knows who ends up taking their place?”
I’d like to say, “They can all kill each other for all I care.” But what I actually say is, “My concern is losing our largest income stream. We don’t have the manpower and we don’t need the exposure of taking on the distribution end of things.”
“Be a lot more money in it, though.”
He’s right.
“A lot more risk,” I remind him. “Besides, you feel like standing around weighing out nickel and dime bags all day? I sure as fuck don’t.”
He chuckles, then turns serious. “Prez, we’ve been managing our money well for years now. We could take the hit and wait out any shakeup.”
This is true. Teller’s done a good job since he took over as our treasurer. Our former president became intoxicated with the large amounts of cash rolling in off his brothers’ backs and spent it recklessly. Managing our money properly and for the benefit for the whole club was our first priority when Wrath, Z, and I took over.
Still, there are a lot of us to support.
“I know. I’d rather not if we can help it.”
“CB still brings in a shit ton of cash,” he reminds me.
“Yeah, okay.”
“I’m just sayin’ we’ll get through this. Don’t stress so much.”
One corner of my mouth lifts. “Someone has to worry about big picture stuff, pretty boy.”
“Fuck you,” he jokes back.
When we get to the clubhouse, I call a meeting. It’s informal since not all the brothers are on the property. I have to physically go downstairs and bring Sparky up to the war room where Wrath, Z, and Murphy are waiting. Stash is miraculously out.
“Prez, the plants are doin’ better,” he assures me as soon as we’re all seated.
“Thank fuck.”
I give everyone a rundown of my meet with Loco.
Wrath shakes his head, then turns to Sparky. “The plants gonna be affected by this?”
“You mean their potency? It’s possible.”
“We can’t get a rep for selling shitty ditch weed, prez,” Wrath grumbles as if I don’t know this. “Probably shouldn’t have even told the little fuck we were having issues.”
“Yeah. That’s on me,” I answer. “We’ll take a vote closer to the drop date. What’s worse: not delivering top product, or not delivering at all?”
Murphy pipes up. “We really gotta vote on that, prez? No product at all will fuck us royally.”
“Yeah, but a shitty product could fuck us long term,” Wrath says.
Sparky bristles at the way Wrath refers to his plants.
I stand, signaling the meeting is over. “We’re not going to solve this tonight. Just wanted to keep everyone informed.” I point at Murphy. “Fill Teller in?”
“Yeah, of course.”
Now that business is taken care of, I’m eager to get upstairs. Hope’s been sick, and I’ve been neglecting her. She’s had me worried for days but refuses to see the doctor, saying it’s nothing.
Without thinking, I flip on the overhead light when I walk in the bedroom. Hope shakes herself, blinking at me with bleary eyes.
It’s no excuse, but I’m so irritated from the other shit going on that I end up snapping at her.
“Christ, Hope. Did you even get out of bed today?”
She sits up, the hurt and shock written clearly on her face.
“What?” she snaps back at me.
“You’re asleep when I leave. You’re asleep when I get back—” Why am I doing this to her? Why can’t I keep my fucking mouth shut?
Fury turns her cheeks red. She tosses back the covers and scrambles out of bed to face me. Arms crossed over her chest, eyes flashing fire. “How the fuck would you know what I did today? You’ve been gone sunrise to fucking midnight, Rock.”
Good. Fight me. Do something. This is the most animated I’ve seen her in days.
“I’ve got shit to handle.”
“I know. And I’ve been trying not to bother you, but don’t you dare come in here and speak to me—”
I started it, but I’m too much of a pussy to finish it, so I storm into the bathroom, slamming the door behind me. Part of me wants her to barge in and yell at me some more. I fuckin’ deserve it.
When I get out of the shower, the lights in the bedroom are all off. I make out Hope’s form curled over on her side, facing away from me. Crawling into bed with her is awkward. I know she’s not asleep.
Her breath hitches.
I made her fuckin’ cry.
Pulling her to me sets everything she’d been trying to hold in loose. In my arms, she shakes and sobs. I bury my nose in her hair, kissing her. “Baby, I’m sorry I’m bein’ such a dick. I didn’t mean to take it out on you. Please don’t cry.”
Every tear she’s ever shed has cut me. I can’t stand hearing my girl upset over anything. But the tears she’s crying because of me? Because of pain I’ve caused her by being an asshole? Those stick in my throat like shards of glass.
“Hope.” I manage a hoarse whisper. She turns, her soft body sliding against me, and wraps her arms around me tight.
I don’t deserve her forgiveness, but I’m grateful for it. Her cheek is still damp against my chest, searing my skin.
“What’s happening?” she finally asks, sounding very small and broken.
The words “I don’t know” roll around in my mouth, but I hold them in because they’re a lie.
After a while, she shifts a little but keeps her arms around me.
“You feeling any better, baby doll?”
She nods, the soft skin of her cheek brushing against my chest. “Yeah. I went downstairs to hang out with Trinity for a while. I tried to stay up and wait for you, but I was tired.”
Fuck, I’m an asshole. “I’m sorry.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Do I? It’s club business. I’ve already told Hope more about the club than I think any guy I’ve known in this life has told his ol’ lady. Christ, in another MC, I’d probably get shot for all the shit I’ve shared with her.
When it takes me so long to answer, Hope sighs and attempts to turn over.
“Stop, baby doll. I’m just thinking how to explain—”
“I know I’m not clever at the criminal stuff like you guys are, but I’m not stupid. Maybe I can help.”
I know she didn’t mean it as a dig, but hearing my girl so casually refer to me as a criminal—even though I know damn well that’s what I am—fuckin’ stings.
But I’ve already made her cry once tonight. Picking another fight over something so stupid isn’t what I want to do, so I simmer the fuck down and take a breath.
“Remember Sparky’s sick plants?”
She sort of gasps and struggles to sit up. “Oh my gosh. I’m such an idiot.”
I grab her hand and tug her back down. “What are you talking about?”
“Logically, I understood you’re not growing all that for personal consumption.”
I snort. “No, babe.”
“But I didn’t think beyond what the sick plants meant.”
Of course she understands what’s going on right away. “Yes. Our buyer increased the amount he wants, and if that crop isn’t ready, it’ll cause problems.”
“Oh.” She’s quiet for a moment, thinking through the implication of my words. “It’s not just a matter of lost money, is it?
“No.”
“Is this person dangerous?”
“Yes and no. He’s a gangster with ambition.”
She snorts. “Sounds dangerous to me.”
“Yeah. The guys and I had a short meeting when I got back. Sparky says the plants are getting better. He wants to stretch their flowering stage to give us more yield, but we don’t have the time.”
“Wow, I was wrong. I don’t have any useful advice.”
I huff out a laugh and kiss the top of her head. “I appreciate you tryin’.”
“Is this… person your only customer?”
“No. That’s the other problem. I’ve had to pull a delivery I promised to a new customer. I’m trying to broaden our customer base, and the gangster wants to keep us dependent on his crew.”
“So you’re basically trying to diversify your portfolio?”
Okay, how can I not laugh at that? She’s so fuckin’ cute.
She thumps my chest to get my attention. “You can’t expand too much, though. You only have so much room down there.”
“True.”
“Even if Sparky says the plants are recovering… will they still be as, I don’t know, good?”
My smile is wasted in the dark. But yeah, my girl catches on quick. “There’s some concern about that. We have a certain reputation.”
“Oh, I imagine Sparky only wants to produce the best. That’s why the gangster wants you all to himself.”
It’s not a question. She definitely has a grasp of the situation now.
“Why not set up some sort of blind test and have some of your regular hang-arounds or whatever give you an opinion?”
I open my mouth, then reconsider. It’s actually not a bad idea. Sparky likes getting opinions on his new strains. This wouldn’t be much different.
“It wouldn’t be scientific,” Hope says in a rush, like she’s worried I’m going to dismiss her idea.
“No. It’s a good idea. We don’t have a ton to spare for something like that.” I can think of at least two guys who would be perfect for the task. “I’ll bring it up in church.”
We’re quiet for a while. Her hand keeps restlessly brushing against my chest, so she hasn’t fallen asleep.
“Hope?”
“Yes,” she whispers so soft I feel the word more than hear it.
“I’m sorry about before.”
“I know you are.”
“Forgive me?”
She doesn’t hesitate. “Always.”
Shit, that one fucking word tears me up inside.
It takes me a second to notice, but her hand keeps drifting lower.
“Hope,” I warn, halting her exploration. “Don’t start something you can’t finish.”
“Oh, I plan to finish.”
The nightmares I started having after the run-in with my sister-in-law ease up after Rock confides in me. But for some reason, I’m still paralyzed. Rock’s even noticed I’m not into planning our wedding, and now that I know the extent of what he’s dealing with, I feel even worse.
There’s no way I can explain to him why I’m having so much anxiety about the wedding. Not when he’s involved in such a delicate dilemma with some… gangster. Compared to the pressure he’s under, my angst seems insignificant and stupid. I can’t waste his energy or distract him with my nonsense. I just need a little time to work things through on my own. Hopefully, by then, the club’s situation will have improved, and I’ll tell him everything.
Lately, all the guys seem to be on edge. The lazy, easygoing atmosphere that usually permeates the clubhouse is thick with tension.
When I get a call from Empire Canvassing asking me to come in for an interview, I jump at the chance to get away from the clubhouse. Lilly’s friend explained how the lobbying firm he works for represents a lot of the groups pushing for New York to legalize marijuana. That he decided to call me now strikes me as perversely funny.
Given Rock’s…business, I feel compelled to explore this job opportunity. Of course, I don’t think my interviewers will take “my husband-to-be is a marijuana trafficker” as an appropriate response to the standard “why do you want to work here” question, but I have a few days to figure it out.
Rock doesn’t exactly share my enthusiasm about this new career path. Something he makes abundantly clear during dinner one night.
“Remember that lobbyist I told you Lilly and I had lunch with?”
Rock stares at me, so I explain in a rush. “The one who said his firm represents those tech companies trying to get marijuana legalized in New York?”
Understanding flares in Rock’s eyes and he nods. Wrath pins me with one of his icy glares. Flustered, it dawns on me a little too late that I should have had this conversation with Rock when we were alone. “Well, his company wants to interview me for a position. They need an attorney…”
No one speaks.
It’s awkward. I realize I might be treading into territory the club won’t approve of, and I’m not sure how I feel about that.
Stupid.
Yes, I understand they voted me in and they seem to accept me. That doesn’t mean bringing women into the inner business dealings is something the MC embraces.
“That’s great, baby doll. You’d be good at it. Sounds like it would be full time, though. Are you sure that’s what you want to do?” Rock finally says.
Is this his way of telling me he doesn’t want me to take the job?
I have to give Wrath credit—he manages to wait until the girls leave the table before tearing into me. Trinity seemed to sense we were about to have a blowout, so I think that's why she had a sudden need to take Hope outside to look at some stuff for the garden.
“Prez, you need to shut that shit down.”
Ignoring him, I finish my dinner and sit back, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Why? I think it’s funny as fuck.”
Z’s keepin’ an eye on both of us. I don’t think he’s decided which side to land on.
“Listen, it’s one thing to let her know what we’re into so she can make an informed decision about spending so much time here. And I do trust her.”
I let out a deep breath.
“But we barely have the county sheriff and Empire PD out of our business. You really think having your wife running around out there advocating for reform is a good way to stay under the radar?”
As much as I hate to admit it, he has a point.
Z finally weighs in. “You’re going worst-case scenario, bro. It’s so close to being legalized. No one’s gonna come knocking on our door because of where she works.” Z glances at me, and I nod to encourage him since he seems to be on my side. “Cops have seen us doing a lot of good down in Empire for years. The MC keeps the really bad shit out, which makes their jobs easier, and they look the other way. Lotta charities quietly supported by us, too.” He sits back but keeps his eyes on Wrath. “Besides, Hope’s as wholesome and respectable as it gets. Having someone like her advocating for reform can only be a good thing.”
He turns toward me, and this time I know whatever he’s about to say I won’t like. “Besides, you hooked up with a lawyer only looks good for us.” He shrugs and glances at Wrath. “She wouldn’t be with him if he was some big-time drug dealer, right?”
“Thanks, asshole.”
His face remains neutral. “Calm down. I’m not saying I think that. I’m saying that’s what it might suggest to outsiders.”
Wrath jerks his chin at me. “Why you encouraging this anyway? You know damn well you don’t want her away from you for forty-some hours a week.”
At first I was amused, but this entire situation quickly got out of hand. Deep down in a place I’d rather not acknowledge, I’m annoyed with Hope for sticking me in this position.