Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 81021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
“All right. Let’s hear what you have to say.”
He nods and takes several big gulps of water from the small bottle. “You know that park with all the trails and shit?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
“Well, some of the Iron Kings hang out there, selling blow to the rich pricks who go running and kayaking there.”
That’s news to me, but I say nothing, give away nothing. “Okay.”
“Some of the ladies know me there, and they bring me food. Good shit from the bistro. Roasted eggplant, risotto, leftover lamb, and pasta. All kinds of good stuff.” He flashes a smile that shows off near black teeth. “So I hang around there, a lot. Most people don’t notice me, and the ones who do, steer clear.”
I nod again. The kid is invisible. Part of the group society forgets about every day and on purpose. “So you hear plenty.”
His smile widens. “Yep. These younger guys, they were talking about someone called Bomb Squad coming to town to blow some shit up. They said…” Satellite closes his eyes as if trying to recount the words exactly. “The fucking guns will go up in a cloud of smoke right there on the water, making those fucking Souls wish they had never fucked with us.”
His dark eyes open on me, proud he remembers it all.
Shit. They’re planning to blow up our guns? That’s the start of war.
“Did they say when?”
The kid shakes his head. “No, but they said they would be the first call when the container arrived.”
“Fuck!” That means someone at the Port on our payroll is double-dipping. This is already war. It just hasn’t been officially declared. Yet. The next shipment arrives in two days, and it’s a big one. If we lose it, we could lose damn near everything. Definitely the drugs and gun business. I rake my fingers through my hair in anger.
Over my dead fucking body.
Satellite holds up his hands defensively. “It’s just what I heard, man.”
“Right.” I reach into my wallet, pull out a few hundred dollar bills, and put them in Satellite’s hand. “Thanks for the info.”
He shook his head. “This is too much.”
It wasn’t nearly enough. “Joaquin will hook you up with some weed and some food. You need more, you come to me or to him, got it? Steer clear of Iron Kings.”
Hesitation flares for just a moment, and then he nods. “Yeah, all right. Thanks.”
I say nothing because I’m already leaving Ace Motors on foot, running down to the clubhouse because Ace needs to hear this, and he needs to hear it now. My mind races. There’s a mole somewhere because not even the cops or the workers know what the fuck is in our shipments. It’s on a strictly need-to-know basis.
“Back so soon?” Shades’ lips curl into an amused smile as he hands me a beer. “Looks like you need it.”
I nod and take the beer. “Thanks. The fuck was I thinking, running here?”
“Must be important,” Ace says behind me.
I nod again, sucking down several deep breaths until I could speak. “Bad news.”
Ace’s thick brows knit into a straight line, arms fold over his chest, and he nods. “Hit me with it.”
I do. I tell him everything I learned from Satellite. “I might have been more skeptical, but he knew it was guns and drugs.”
“A fucking mole,” Ace grunts.
“I’ll find that fucker and make him wish he was never born,” Shades threatens, and I can’t agree more.
Ace nods. “Be nice to have Dix around for this shit,” he grunts and drops down onto the closest leather stool. “Coop, call Church. Today at fifteen-hundred.”
I nod and get on my way to round up my brothers. War is coming. I can feel it in the tingle in my bones, that fire stirring in my belly. This is what the fuck I do.
“All right, guys, settle the fuck down.” Ace sits at the head of the table, fingers threaded together in an almost surreal stillness, mirroring the muted expression on his face. Only the thick, threaded vee in his eyebrows indicates that anything is wrong.
“We have business to discuss.”
The room quiets, and Ace’s brown gaze settles on each of us, going around the giant metal table inside the sacred space meant only for patched members of Reckless Souls. The oversized leather and chrome chairs make it feel like some Knights of the Round Table type of shit, and truthfully, at this moment, that’s how it feels.
Shades bangs on the table from his spot to the left of Ace. “We’re all ears, Prez.”
Ace nods and lets out a long, contemplative breath. “We got some news today, some fucked up news that means we need to prepare ourselves for the worst.”
“War?” Preacher’s question infuses the air with a thick cloud of tension at the mention of the ‘W’ word.
Ace nods. “Possibly. Hector is planning to blow up our next shipment. The guns. And the drugs.”