by Addison Jane
“You think you could do it?” Drake asked as he took his place on a stool beside me, Dad joining us as well.
I’d already taken a good look around, examined the fixtures and the many, many different pieces of decorative wood that gave this place its character. “At least half of it is in good enough shape that it wouldn’t really need to be touched other than maybe a bit of varnish. The rest is intricate, but doable, depending on how quickly you want it done.”
“As soon as possible,” Dad confirmed, his eyes still scanning the vast space. “If we’re gonna do this, we do it now, and we have it ready to go by New Year’s.”
It was August, so he was giving us a little over four months.
“Gonna be tight,” Drake said, voicing my concerns. “We’re not gonna be finished with the hotel back home for another three weeks.”
I tapped my fingers on the bar top. “That’s what it will take for us to get the negotiations done and the permits and consents anyway,” I interjected, beginning to see how this could actually come together, even if it was going to be hard.
Dad nodded. He didn’t say much, but I could tell he was happy.
He tended to stay away from the construction business. He told us he didn’t want to taint it with his name, but neither Drake nor I could be more proud of having him be a piece of us. Huntsman was a hard man to get close to. He kept himself closed off from a lot of people and liked to live in the shadows.
The club itself still wasn’t all aboveboard, and he chose to stick to that side of business. I knew his past weighed him down. Not only had he made a living out of actually hunting people down with the goal of ending their lives—like they were just animals—but like Drake and me, he carried the weight of Mom’s death on his shoulders.
He felt responsible.
He felt weak.
But he would never let it on.
As far as anyone knew, Huntsman was ruthless, notorious, and he took no shit.
Ever.
“I’ll put in the offer,” Drake said finally. “This place will be worth the stress it’s gonna fucking cause me.”
Everything from the patterns on the ceiling to the banisters on the staircase, the openings that led from one space into another and even the walls, it all had detail.
The building was magnificent. It was fucking extravagant. It was exactly what we needed to make a statement.
Drake had a clear vision of exactly how we could use this place to our advantage. He wanted to utilize the lobby as a quieter, more upper-class bar. And in the theater—rip the seats out and create a dance floor, keeping the stage for DJs, bands, and dancers. The mezzanine upstairs would be made a flat VIP area, glassed off for more privacy. The balconies that were used for the richer theatergoers like the fucking queen we would keep too, and use them as rooms for private parties and VIP guests who wanted to enjoy the nightclub but not have to mingle with the commoners.
It was perfect.
And if we could do it all and meet the Phoenix Historical Preservation Office guidelines, this place could become an icon.
The doors to the front of the building opened, letting in more light which lit up all the dust and shit floating around in the air.
“This place is beautiful,” Meyah said in stunned awe as she stepped through, her eyes wide as she fought to take in everything.
“Holy crap,” Dakota echoed, her reaction a whole lot less classy.
I couldn’t help but fucking smile. The girl wasn’t subtle or classy by any means, but honestly, I think that’s why people gravitated toward her. She was honest and real, not a fake bone in her body. She came through the door behind Meyah, her eyes wide as she marveled at the space. “I feel like I’ve stepped back into the 1920s.”
The girls dashed around the space while Shake wandered in and walked straight toward us, a stern look on his face. He stopped sharply, his eyes moving to check where the girls were before he spoke, “We need to talk.”
Meyah and Dakota had already disappeared into the theater part of the building.
“Well, you better talk fast,” Huntsman ordered, the twitch in his jaw letting me know he was preparing for the worst.
“Our buddy, Caleb, from the bar,” Shake began, taking a deep breath before he continued, “He’s a fucking cop.”
My body began to heat instantly. “How the hell didn’t you know that?”
Shake rolled his shoulders back. “Because first of all, he used a fucking fake ID to make the booking and secondly, he’s not just a normal cop. He’s part of some gang-busting task force that’s got their sights set on our damn city… or maybe just us. My guy on the force said none of them even knew he was coming or that he had business here.”
“Maybe he didn’t,” Dad replied gruffly, folding his arms across his chest.
I saw the moment it clicked in Shake’s head, and he swung his body around, his fist flying out and connecting with the wall just to his left. The force was enough to shake some dust and shit loose from the ceiling, but even as little bits of debris floated down, he just shook his head. “The bachelor party was just a way in to scope things out? Or to start something?”
Drake heaved in a deep breath. “My guess would be that it was too planned out for him not to be there for a reason. Dakota and Meyah both said they thought he was completely trashed. He was slurring his words. He was stumbling.”
“Then the instant Dakota pulled the gun on him, he dropped the act,” I continued to add to Drake’s thoughts, putting the pieces together. “He was angry he’d been caught out and hadn’t been able to slip under the radar.”
Dad nodded. “Because now we know he’s snooping around.”
“So, what do you think he’s after?” Shake questioned, seeming to have calmed down a little. I understood why he was so pissed off. The Brothers were meant to look after Empire so we didn’t have any problems, and so things ran smooth. And he’d let this one slip by.
It wasn’t his fault, but when you miss something that afterward should have been almost obvious, it’s hard not to want to punch yourself in the face for being so fucking stupid.
The thing was though, Shake wasn’t stupid.
None of the boys in his club were.
This was something that happened, and something that we would now try to fix.
“I don’t know what he’s after.” I sighed. “But what I do know is, we need to really knuckle down and make sure that from now on, our asses are squeaky fucking clean. We need to make sure that there’s nothing for him to find.”
They all nodded in agreement, but Dad spoke up with a different opinion, “I don’t play offensive if I don’t have to.” Dad huffed, standing taller and straighter. “You get me the bastard’s address because we’re gonna get our shit from the horse’s mouth before we start running around like chickens with our heads cut off. That ain’t us.”
He was right.
We found the facts, then we found out how to use them to our advantage.
We weren’t runners.
We were fighters.
RIPLEY
I leaned against the wall in the shadows of a cheap hotel room scuffing the dull, frayed carpet with my boot. I looked across at Shake who was doing the same thing, his nose screwed up in disgust. “You’d think they could spring for something a little nicer,” he sneered at the offending floor covering.
Diddit snorted, his skinny ass sitting up on the breakfast bar picking at the gravel in his boots. “Yeah, maybe they should’ve gone with some kind of theme in here to make it more appealing.”
“There is one, it’s a little movie called The Shining,” I threw back, screwing up my nose.
“I dunno what that is, but it sounds sparkly.”
“You’re an idiot,” Strip quipped, rustling Diddit’s hair as he walked past the tiny kitchen and into the just-as-tiny living area. He dropped down into one of the 1980s style armchairs that looked like they should have been in someone’s grandma’s house. “Your boy’s just parking
his car.”
“Good.” Dad nodded as he stepped out from the hallway. “I hope he saw the row of bikes parked out the front.”
Most people would assume we were here to surprise our new friend, but we just didn’t roll that way. We didn’t hide or sneak around. We had a problem, you were going to fucking hear about it, and you were going to hear about it face to face.
“You think he’ll run?” Strip asked, adjusting his club cut around his shoulders. Strip was Dad’s best friend and VP. He’d had my dad’s back for a long time, and when my dad stepped down, he’d have mine too until his time came. He’d been like an uncle growing up, all the older members had been really. They watched us grow from kids, treated us like their own, helped out when we needed their support and told us to pull our damn heads in when we were being tiny bastards.
“It’s a possibility, but it’ll be a good test to see just how big his balls are and what we’re up against,” Dad noted, and I nodded in agreement. If he runs, we’re just looking at some fucking pansy with a bad attitude and a god complex.
But if he walks in here… the door creaked open… we were looking at some cocky motherfucker with a god complex.
“Speak of the Devil,” Diddit muttered as he jumped down off the counter with a wide grin.
“I wasn’t expecting guests,” pretty boy commented as he came to the end of the short entranceway which opened into the living area and casually tossed his keys onto the counter where Diddit’s ass had just been. “If I’d have known you were coming, I would have bought some snacks.”
“Caleb Corrigan, I assume,” Dad growled, taking a step right into the room. His presence was unquestionably daunting. He held himself like he was indestructible, and he’d always taught me to do the same. Life was like a poker game, even if you were outnumbered, outplayed, and there was no way that you were getting out, you walked in there like you had the best hand.
Sometimes a simple bluff can win you the fucking game.
I noticed the way that Caleb’s eyes moved around the room like he was slightly unsure of where he should position himself, but one thing was for sure, he didn’t back away. “The infamous Huntsman, I can presume,” he said, finally deciding to face the president head-on. “Can I get you a drink?” He held out his hand, but when Dad didn’t even bother to look down and acknowledge it, he simply pulled it back again and dusted it on his pants with a grin.
“I’ll pass. I’d really like to have a clear head so I can try to understand why a man such as yourself decided to come to my place of business last night and harass one of my barmaids.” We weren’t fucking around. “We don’t generally host police officers, but if you’d like to book a Christmas function or some bullshit, I’m sure Shake here would be happy to oblige.”
Shake snorted loudly at the concept but nodded anyway. “Yeah. Sure. I know a place where I can get a great leg of ham, or we could even do a spit-roast pig.”
I didn’t even try to stop the deep rumble of laughter that started in my belly, the image made even more comical as Caleb’s face began to turn beet red in anger, his ears practically steaming.
Dad held his arms out. “See, we’re always happy to work with you. But first, you need to let us know what the hell you want.” His tone changed from jovial and playful to serious as all hell in less than a couple of seconds.
Caleb took a moment to respond. He kept pulling at the cuffs of his shirt and rolling his neck like he was struggling to keep himself together. “You want the proposition? Fine, here it is.”
I grinned and shook my head. I knew there would be something, he was looking at making a fucking deal, and he’d been trying to scope out the club first to see if he could figure out the kind of businesses we ran and how he could use it to his advantage.
Dad folded his arms across his chest and waited. “Make it fucking quick.”
“I’ve been dragged into this fucking city to deal with the gangs and all that bullshit. It’s what I do. It’s what I’m fucking good at.” The mask was starting to drop. The polite let’s do a deal cop was being left behind, and he was starting to get cocky. “Sometimes it’s simple… sometimes it has to be a little harder.”
Shake rolled his eyes and stepped into the room, closer to Huntsman. “Are you actually giving us the ‘we can do this the easy way or we can do this the hard way’ speech? Because I don’t think you realize who the fuck you’re dealing with.”
Caleb rolled his head toward Shake. “Hamlet Matherson. Parents were killed by a drunk driver when you were eighteen, courts refused to give you custody of your younger siblings. Romeo was sent to foster care, Ophelia sent to a group home… actually, several group homes before she finally decided to take her chances on the streets instead of putting up with the male carers in the house raping her every other night.”
I wondered if I should step in. Shake’s fists were clenched tightly, and this was a kid who didn’t lose his temper very often. Shake was young, but he wasn’t immature. He was smart, tactical, and he never lost his shit in a tense situation.
Right now, though, I was wondering whether in several minutes we were going to be devising a new plan. How to get a dead body out of here undetected.
“So, you know a little about me, about my family,” Shake managed to finally announce, his muscles seeming a little less constricted. “Would you like a round of applause?”
I grinned. He’d found his step again.
Caleb shrugged like it was no big deal, but his lips were pursed so tightly that the skin around them was white. He was fighting to keep his cool, struggling to make it look like he was a man worth making a fucking deal with.
Not that we came here to make one in the first place.
We chose who we dealt with in the police force, and it was usually guys who had proven they were trustworthy or guys we could use and manipulate when the need arose.
If he thought he was just going to come in throwing threats and big-noting himself, and we were going to drop to the floor and scamper, this asshole obviously had some serious mental disorder that distorted reality.
“You said I didn’t know who I was dealing with, but I’ll assure you, I know every single member of both of your clubs. I know their old ladies. I know their parents. Their cousins. Their doctors. Their barbers. The bastard who sells them milk at the corner store…” His tone was hard and snappy. This was the problem about slapping a guy like Caleb Corrigan in the face, he took it personally, and he would come out swinging like Ali because his ego was too big to let anyone make him look like a fool.
“Nice speech, but I’m a busy man… as you most likely know,” Huntsman deadpanned, just short of rolling his eyes. “What do you want?”
Caleb seemed like a pillar of confidence as he lifted his chin in the air and stood taller, but I could guarantee there was possibly a pile of shit in his underwear. Especially if he was as thorough as he said he was and still standing toe to toe with my dad.
“It’s my job to clean the filth and scum out of the cities. Make people feel like they’re safe.”
“So, you’re the toilet paper that comes along and cleans up the poo on the ass,” Strip commented casually, speaking for the first time.
Caleb didn’t even acknowledge him, his eyes staying glued to my dad, and Shake who stood directly in front of him. While technically The Brothers by Blood were the only actual MC who had territory here, The Exiled were here more often than not given our ownership of Empire and the new nightclub we were building. I guess that kind of lumped us together.
Technically, we’d all be related soon enough when Meyah started popping out little crossbred MC babies.
“You boys all keep your noses clean and keep out of trouble and do what I tell you to do, and you can stay in the city. I tell everyone how safe it is, how they don’t have to worry about you, I move on.” Oh God, he played a good game, but he was about to show just how much of a fucking idiot he really was.
Shake started to laugh.
I couldn’t help but join him, it was infectious.
Diddit wasn’t far behind us either.
Dad held up his hand to quiet us down, but I found it really hard. “And the other option?”
“The other option? The one where I completely wipe out every remnant of an MC or anything that fucking resembles it within Phoenix? That option? Because most people don’t take that option.”
Dad didn’t flinch, though. “No. I mean the option where I shoot you right now. Then I carry you out through the lobby like you’re just a little drunk and had too many margaritas because I assume you’re a prissy bitch that likes those, and we throw you in the back of my truck and take you out to the desert where we let you bleed out while the vultures circle above.”
Caleb looked like he was either about to cry, or about to pull his gun out and try and shoot us all. He was fucking angry, but Dad didn’t stop.
He was taking this asshole for everything.
He may have done his homework and knew the kind of people we were on paper, but he had no idea who we were really, or the lengths we would go to when some motherfucker came at us with threats.
“Or the option where you get the fuck out of here, and I don’t break your jaw right now for daring to even open your mouth and spray such goddamn shit out of it.”
“Don’t let your ego get in the way of making this deal, Huntsman,” Caleb warned through clenched teeth. The vein in his temple was protruding, and his body was tense and poised for a fight.
I pressed off the wall, moving in closer in case he really was as stupid as I assumed.
“I’ve destroyed men like you for less and their families just for an added bonus. You don’t take this, I’d watch over your shoulder.”
“Then they weren’t like me because you don’t want to know what will happen if you come after the people I care about,” Dad responded, pointing to the door and indicating it was time to leave.
“The same thing that always happens,” Caleb called after us as we walked toward the door. “Good wins, bad loses.”
