Half a second later, Tank’s unmistakable voice shouts to open the door.
“Well. Looks like Daddy’s home,” I mutter to myself dryly.
5
Tank
“RICO?” Striker explodes. “You’re fuckin’ kidding me.”
“Wish I feckin’ was,” Thorn says grimly. He looks around at the rest of the Lords seated around the large carved mahogany table of the chapel. “Four of the Death Devils have been hauled in by ATF on drug, weapons, and money-laundering charges.” He pauses. “Including Oz.”
The Death Devils MC is a club to the east of us, and the closest thing our MC has to allies. The Lords of Carnage have a business relationship with them, running drugs and guns back and forth through each other. Oz is president of the Death Devils. He’s also Thorn’s father-in-law, as Thorn is married to Oz’s only daughter, Isabel.
Angel, our prez, continues where Thorn left off. “When Thorn found out from Isabel that Oz and the other Devils got picked up, I got hold of Oz’s VP, Rojo. He’s acting prez now, until Oz gets out.”
“If Oz gets out,” Striker points out with a jab of his finger.
“Yeah,” Angel acknowledges, his eyes flashing with anger. “An undercover agent infiltrated the Death Devils, is what Rojo said.”
“Fu-u-ck,” I breathe.
“No shit. The fucker disappeared right before Oz and the others were taken in, so that was their first clue. The Devils are hunting for him. And I wouldn’t wanna be that motherfucker when they track him down.”
“True that,” mutters Beast, our own VP.
For a few seconds, no one says anything, as all the Lords contemplate the long and painful demise awaiting the mole that infiltrated the Devils club. That piece of shit is gonna rue the day he was born, and pray for death before they’re through with him.
Death won’t come nearly soon enough.
Ghost, our Sergeant At Arms, breaks the silence. “Word’s gonna get around about this, if it hasn’t already. The Death Devils are vulnerable now. And their territory is valuable as fuck. Crews are gonna be linin’ up to take them out and take over.”
“Not to mention their territory is adjacent to ours,” Tweak points out, face stony. “Not to change the fuckin’ subject here, but what does all this mean for us? With all the business we do with the Devils, how do we know the feds ain’t comin’ for us, too?”
“We don’t,” Angel says simply. “In fact, at the moment, I think we gotta assume they will.”
“We gonna lay low for a bit?” Bullet breaks in. “Figure out what to do about this?”
“If one of the Devils caves and takes a plea deal to save his own fuckin’ skin, it won’t matter how low we try to lay,” Striker mutters. “They know too fuckin’ much about our club.”
“Oz won’t do that,” Thorn says with certainty. “And the others will take their cue from Oz.”
“Maybe,” I drawl. It’s true that Oz’s men are known for their loyalty to their president. “But we can’t be sure. Meanwhile, we gotta be ready for some other club to make a move into their territory, and maybe make a play for ours.”
“Fuckin’ hell. Just when the Lords are expanding.” Beast’s lip curls in disgust. “Fuck this timing.”
“Speakin’ of which, you talk to Axel yet?” Ghost asks, turning to Angel. Axel is the prez of our Ironwood Lords of Carnage chapter to the south.
“I let him know about this, yeah,” Angel nods. “Axel’s on orders to keep his eyes open and let me know about any unusual activity down there.” He pauses. “And to keep an eye out for moles.”
“And speakin’ of that…” Hale pauses. “How can we be sure there ain’t any here?”
No one answers. We ain’t patched any new members in in a while, but we have some prospects and hangarounds. I see a few of my brothers looking around the room, scanning one another.
I suppress a groan. There ain’t nothin’ worse in a club than lack of trust. Outlaw bikers live by the cut and die by the cut. There’s a reason we vet all our members like we do. One weak link, and the entire chain can break. And even the hint of suspicion can cast a heavy shadow over a brotherhood like ours.
“Keep an eye on the prospects,” Angel barks. “Let me know if you see or hear anything that looks off. And watch each other’s six, all of you.”
“What about the runs we got planned?” Hawk asks.
Angel pauses. “The Devils are going dark. And we’re ceasing all communication with them for the time being.” He shakes his head. “We’re gonna chill on the guns and drugs, except for a few last runs we already got planned that we can’t back out of.”
Geno, our Treasurer, bites out a curse. “I got bills to pay, man.”
“We all do,” Beast shoots back, an edge in his voice. “But we gotta be smart.”
“We’re just gonna have to rely on the cash from our legitimate businesses. Twisted Pipes is doing good,” Angel says, referring to our custom bike and car repair shop. “The Smiling Skull is doing good business, too.”
“Yeah, the Skull is busier than ever,” Hale agrees. “Jewel’s doin’ a great job managing it.”
“Stop suckin’ Angel’s cock,” Bullet smirks. Hale snorts and flips him the bird.
“What about the receipts for Club Haven, Geno?” Beast rumbles.
Club Haven is a strip club the MC recently bought. It was a stretch for us financially at the time, and a few of the brothers were against it for that reason. But now it’s lookin’ like maybe it was a good choice after all.
“Doin’ good,” Geno answers. “Pussy always sells. It’s recession proof. We’re still payin’ for the renovations we did on the place, but next quarter we should start turnin’ a pretty decent profit.”
“One more thing to think about,” Angel continues. “When the immediate threat has passed with this RICO shit, we need to start expanding our numbers.”
“We’re gonna expand?” Gunner repeats dubiously. “How the fuck is that not calling attention to ourselves? We…”
“It’s time,” Angel cuts him off. “We’re vulnerable right now, even though business is good. Maybe because business is good. We don’t have the numbers we need to defend ourselves long-term.” He leans forward, steepling his fingers in front of him. “We’ve seen too many clubs go under lately — the smaller ones especially. We need more than this chapter and the one in Ironwood. We need to put down deeper roots. Make it harder to wipe us out. You just saw what’s happening with the Death Devils. One well-placed hit, and they’re on their knees.” Angel’s eyes glint. “We gotta be stronger than that. The lone wolf can get taken out. The bigger the pack, the harder it is.”
The Lords argue back and forth for a while. At first, I’m against Angel’s idea. But the more he talks, the more I can see it. He explains his vision: expanding southward into Kentucky, Tennessee, Georgia, and eventually Florida. It starts to makes sense. It’s why we spread into Ironwood in the first place. Better control of our pipeline, better profits all around. And of course, like Angel says, a bigger legacy for the Lords of Carnage. One that hopefully will outlive us all.
Eventually, Angel calls us back to order. “This is a lot to consider, I know. We’ll put this shit up for a vote eventually. But be thinkin’ about it. For now, keep yourselves outta trouble. All contraband shipments are off except the ones we’ve got scheduled for the next two weeks. All travel outside the city limits of Tanner Springs — business or pleasure — needs to be approved by me.”
Angel looks around the room, then bangs the gavel. “We’re done here.”
Twenty minutes later, I’m still tryin’ to process what the whole fuckin’ thing means when I push open the door of the Downtown Diner. I left my brothers standing around the main room of the clubhouse, talking and arguing about everything that just went on at church. Part of me hated to leave, but there was another part of me that was glad to have an excuse to walk away from it for now. I’m ready to pick up Wren, go back home, order a goddamn pizza
, and try to forget about my damn life for the night.
It’s busy as hell in the diner, unlike when I left. My eyes flick to the clock by the cash register, and I realize I’ve been gone almost three hours. Shit. Then my eyes slide over to the booth where I left Wren… and I see it’s occupied by a family of four I don’t recognize.
“Hey! Hey!” I bark at a pimply-faced bus boy pushing a cart of dish-filled plastic bins. “Where’s that waitress… Cady?”
“Cady?” He blinks at me. “She’s not working.”
“She was here earlier!” I insist angrily. His eyes widen as he half-stumbles, taking a step back.
“Well, I mean,” he stammers, “then she probably went home. I think her shift was earlier today.”
Goddamnit! “Where’s Penny?” I snap.
“She’s here. I’ll… Oh yeah, there she is.”
The pimply kid points. I follow his arm to see Penny in the back, jawing with some customers at an eight-top.
“Where the fuck is Wren?” I demand loudly as I storm up to her.
“Well, hello to you, too,” Penny smirks at me. “She’s with Cady, of course.”
Jesus fuck, my patience is just about at a breaking point. “And. Where. Is. Cady?” I bite out each word.
But Penny knows us Lords well enough that she’s not intimidated. She shrugs, lips curving upward like she’s enjoying fucking with me. “Her shift was over, Tank. You’re late, by the way. Cady went home. Since you weren’t back, she took Wren with her.”
“What the fuck?!” I roar. “I didn’t say she could leave with the kid!”
Penny rolls her eyes at me. “Calm your tits, Tank. She didn’t kidnap Wren, for God’s sake. Cady lives above Sunderland’s Hardware. She’s literally less than three blocks from here. Take the back stairs outside the building from the parking lot. She’s apartment number two.”
Minutes later, I’m pounding on Cady’s apartment door so hard it’s rattling in the jamb.
“Open the door!” I yell. I’m about to start pounding again when I hear the click of a deadbolt unlocking.
Cady answers with wide, startled eyes. “What is wrong with you, making a racket like that?” she hisses at me.
“What the fuck is wrong with you, takin’ Wren like that?” I demand.
With a sigh, Cady steps out into the hallway and pulls the door closed behind her.
“My shift was over,” she tells me, her tone sharp. “Wren was bored, and the diner needed the booth for the dinner rush. So I brought her here. What’s the big deal?”
“The big deal is, I told you to keep her at the diner until I got back!”
“No. Actually you didn’t,” she shoots back. “I offered to watch her for you. And that’s what I did. You’re acting like I kidnapped her, for God’s sake!”
“You said you would keep an eye on her at the diner!”
“And you said you’d be gone an hour!”
“So I ran late!” I spread my hands, knowing I should apologize but too riled up to care. “If that was a fuckin’ problem for you, you should have left Wren at the diner with Penny, dammit! Not take her with you! Christ,” I spit, exasperated. “What kind of person just takes a kid like that?”
“Oh, I see.” Cady crosses her arms, her voice rising. “So, you can leave a four-year-old girl with a near stranger in a heartbeat, and that’s no problem at all. But now all of a sudden you have a problem with the very person you dumped her on? The person who offered to help you out?”
“I left her with Penny, not you,” I toss back, even though that ain’t strictly speaking true.
Cady snorts. “Oh, come off it. You did not. You left her with me.”
“You should have called me.”
“Did you check your texts? I tried.” She points an accusing finger at me. “And besides, I told Penny I was bringing her here and she was fine with it. Penny trusts me. You trusted me enough to leave Wren with me. So, deal.”
I open my mouth to yell some more, but then shut it again. Fuck it. I’m getting nowhere with this crazy bitch, and I am not in any kind of mood to argue right now.
“Fine,” I growl. “Just drop it. Let me in so I can get Wren and get the hell out of here.”
“Fine,” she says with an irritated shake of her head,
She reaches for the knob and pushes the door open. I follow her inside.
Cady’s apartment is a single room, sparsely decorated, with a bed on one end and a kitchenette and living area on the other. In the center, sitting on a worn wood floor, is Wren. She’s wearing a stained smock, and she’s bent over a large piece of paper, a paintbrush in her hand. Snoopy sits a few feet away from her on a small couch.
“See?” Cady murmurs softly beside me. “She’s completely fine. I didn’t sell her into slavery or chop her up to make soup. Will you freaking relax now?”
Some of my anger fades away as I take Wren in. She doesn’t even look up at me as she continues to paint. Begrudgingly, I admit to myself she does seem fine — better than fine. She’s completely absorbed in what she’s doing. It seems like Wren must have an artistic streak in her. No idea where the hell she got that from. It sure as hell ain’t from me, and it’s hard to believe it came from Jess.
Speaking of artistic streaks, I notice the far wall of Cady’s apartment is lined with stacks of painted canvases of all shapes and sizes. None of them are actually hanging on the walls, which are completely bare.
“You’re a painter?” I ask, nodding toward the canvases.
“No,” she shoots back. “I’m a waitress.”
I ignore the sarcasm and take a step closer, peering at one of them. “You’re good.”
Cady snorts. “Are you an art critic?”
I raise my hands in surrender. “Hey, look, I’m just tryin’ to pay you a compliment. Can you back the hell off a little?”
She exhales, her breath blowing a stray strand of hair from her forehead. A crease appears between her brows. “Fine,” she sighs. “Sorry. Thank you for the compliment.”
“You’re welcome.” I pause, casting about for something else to say. “So, uh, did Wren give you any trouble?”
Unexpectedly, Cady bursts into laughter. “She’s been an angel. I’ve never seen anything like it.” She stops chuckling, her cheeks still flushed with merriment. “I thought kids that age were supposed to be all over the place. She’s as quiet as a mouse.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean,” I admit grudgingly. “She’s the calmest kid I’ve ever seen.”
I think of the other Lords and their families. The little boys are freakin’ hellions, but the girls can hold their own with the best of them. The club barbecues and picnics are always a whirlwind of craziness because of them.
Cady pauses, bites her lip. “In fact,” she continues, lowering her voice, “it makes me wonder a little bit.”
“How do you mean?”
She nods toward the far corner of the room. I get the message and follow her over.
“I mean,” she half-whispers, frowning, “it’s just weird to me. Kids are supposed to make messes and jump around and stuff. She doesn’t do any of that. It’s like she’s trying as hard as she can not to take up any space.”
Cady looks at me expectantly, waiting for my response. For some reason, I get defensive. Like Cady’s implying it’s my fault Wren is like she is.
“Look,” I growl. “I’ve been trying to get her to talk for a week. She doesn’t do anything unless I specifically tell her to. I have no freakin’ idea what’s up with her, okay?”
“A week,” Cady repeats. “So, is that how long you’ve had her?”
“Not quite, but yeah, almost.”
I stare at her for a few seconds, considering whether I should tell her anything more. It’s none of her business. But she did help me out of a bind with Wren. And if I’m honest with myself, I’m a little out of my depth here. For some reason, my tongue loosens a little bit.
“She was dropped off on my doorstep a week ago b
y her mom.”
“Wait, so…” She squints at me. “Is she your daughter?”
I huff out a breath. “Yeah. If you can believe the note that came with Wren.”
“And you didn’t even know about her at all?” Cady lets out a low whistle. “Were you and her mom ever together? I mean like, together together?”
“No. She hung around the club for a while. We had some good times. But we weren’t together or anything. At least, if she’s the Jess I think she is.”
“You’ve dated more than one Jess?”
I snort at the word. “I don’t date,” I sneer. “I can think of a couple Jesses I’ve slept with, and maybe a few Jessicas. I don’t exactly keep records.”
Cady looks at me archly. “Seriously?”
I frown. “Yes, seriously.”
She shakes her head, clearly not impressed. “Unbelievable.”
“You got a problem with me sleeping with people?” I ask.
“Just…” Her face reddens.
“What?”
“Never mind.”
I can’t figure out if she’s judging me, but if she is, I don’t give a shit. I ain’t gonna apologize for being a red-blooded male.
“Look, whatever,” I say abruptly. “Thanks for watching her. I gotta get going. Wren!” I call. “Come on, we’re heading out.”
Wren looks up from her painting, disappointment etched on her little features. A surge of guilt runs through me, but I push it down.
“Hey, Tank,” Cady blurts out. “Look…”
“Yeah?”
She reaches up and fiddles nervously with the end of her ponytail. “I just… who takes care of Wren normally? When you’ve got stuff you have to do?”
“No one.” Not yet, anyway. I haven’t figured that part out yet.
Cady hesitates. “I mean, if you wanted me to… I could take her again sometime. To help you out. If I’m not busy.”
“Yeah?” I frown at her, suspicious. “Why would you do that?”
TANK: Lords of Carnage MC Page 4
