Doozer (Burning Saints MC Book 5)

by Jack Davenport

  “Through logistics fucking management?”

  “You have to trust me when I say you have all the education and experience needed to fill this position and that it is in your best interest to accept it.”

  “That almost sounded like a threat,” I said.

  “Not at all,” my father replied. “Believe it or not, Marco, I care deeply about your future.”

  I studied my father’s face. He seemed genuine but was clearly withholding as much as he was disclosing. However, his reluctance to give me detailed information about this deal was far less shocking than the fact that he wanted me involved in the first place.

  “Take some time over the next few days to think about my offer,” my father said. “Maybe talk things over with that girl of yours.”

  “What?”

  My father grinned. “I told you, son. I hear things.”

  * * *

  “The order sheet says high gloss finish,” Elwood repeated.

  “I already told you I don’t give a shit what the order sheet says. I talked to Jeff yesterday, and he definitely wants a satin finish.”

  “But he signed the sheet, and the sheet says glossy.” Elwood held up his clipboard.

  “I swear to God, Wood. If you show me that thing one more time, I’m gonna shove it so far up your ass—”

  “I’d like to see you try, punk,” he said tossing his clipboard onto the nearby workbench and getting into a fighting stance.

  “Don’t get yourself all worked up, old man,” I retorted. “I’d hate for you to break a hip doing all that Kung-Fu fighting.”

  “My bones are fuckin’ fine, and so are my eyes. The order says glossy. It’s candy apple red for fuck’s sake.”

  “I’m fully aware of the client’s color and finish choice. I’m also aware the order sheet is incorrect. If you want to call Jeff and look like a disorganized, unprofessional jackass, be my fuckin’ guest. Here I’ll dial his number for you,” I said, picking up the shop phone, just as Minus walked in.

  “Hey, it’s my favorite show,” he said excitedly. “The Real Housewives of Portland. What are you two bitches fighting about now?”

  “Nothing a phone call can’t solve,” I said, waiving the receiver in front of Elwood.

  “Fine,” he said, taking the receiver from me and slamming down. “But who the hell ever heard of candy apple red in satin?”

  “Welcome to the twenty-first century, Wood.”

  “I barely fuckin’ liked the twentieth,” he grumbled, before returning to the paint booth, slamming the door behind him.

  “Nice to see Elwood in a good mood for a change,” Minus said, before handing me a plain white envelope. “This came for you.”

  I opened it to find a letter from Trouble.

  “Everything okay?” Minus asked.

  “I’m not sure. I’m gonna take a break and read this while Elwood gets the booth set up,” I said, holding up the letter.

  “Sure thing,” Minus replied.

  I exited the shop and headed for the grove of trees by the old pump house. I sat down under the hundred-year-old pines on a stone bench built by who knows who, back in who knows when. This was my favorite spot on the Saints’ property. Something about the age of the trees and the anonymity of the stoneworker who built the bench was humbling. It made me and my problems feel insignificant in a comforting way. I unfolded the pages and read, unsure if I’d find a love note or Dear John letter.

  In the end, it was neither and it was both.

  Doozer

  I’ve sat down to write this letter three times (okay, maybe four). It started as an exercise given to us by Taxi. Well, more of a command, really, and I figured I could just send you a note telling you everything’s cool, I miss you, and move on with my day.

  I can’t.

  I miss you. I miss you like crazy, baby, and this is where the problem and heartache lay, because I cannot have that distraction. I’m deep in the shit now, and it’s exactly where I’m supposed to be. But in the middle of that deep shit, you’ll take a leisurely stroll through my mind and I’m distracted. Maybe for a second, maybe for a minute, but it’s long enough to scare me. If I’m out ‘there’ and distracted, lives get lost, and I could never forgive myself. Right now, I just want to crawl into your arms and stay there forever, but that’s probably because I’ve had two hours of sleep and I’m a little emotional after my session with Dr. Fenton.

  I had no fucking clue who Dr. Fenton was, but I already hated his fucking guts. I forced myself to finish the letter even if my heart was shattering.

  Jesus, I’m rambling, even in a letter. Sorry. I don’t really know what I’m trying to say, I just know that this isn’t something that can continue. Not the way it’s been going, anyway. I wish I could see or hear you, but maybe this is exactly the way it’s supposed to be. I don’t know. I don’t really have any answers. Please stay safe and know that I will always love you. ~ Trouble.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Doozer

  I HURRIED BACK to the shop and was surprised to find Minus still there, waiting for me.

  “Everything okay?” I asked.

  “I was gonna ask you the same thing,” he said, pointing to Trouble’s letter, still in my hand.

  “Uh. Yeah. Everything’s good,” I said, opening my locker and tossing the letter inside. I reached for my painting suit, only to find it missing from its hook. “You stupid fucking idiot,” I growled at myself. Slamming my fist into the locker next to mine, I dented the shit out of it.

  “Whoa,” Minus said, walking over to me. “You don’t sound okay.”

  “I forgot my painting suit. I left it soaking in the sink, even though I reminded myself to take it out a hundred fucking times.”

  “Then Spike’s locker definitely had it coming,” he said, dryly.

  “Sorry, man,” I said, putting my hands in the air. “I’ll fix it.”

  “It’s no big deal,” Minus said. “I’m more worried about where your head is at.”

  “A million fuckin’ miles away, lately,” I said.

  “More like twenty-eight-hundred,” Minus said with a smile, pointing again at Trouble’s letter, now at the bottom of my locker. “And if that letter says what your face says it says, I suspect I have to decide.”

  “Decide what?” I asked.

  “Whether or not to let you go to Quantico,” he replied.

  “Why would you let me do that?”

  “First of all because it would piss off Taxi,” Minus said with a chuckle. “Secondly, because I need to send someone out to Savanah anyway, and you could stop off in Virginia for a few days on your way out. Mostly, because when I was your age, Cutter never gave me the chance to work things out between Cricket and me. And although I’m happy with how things turned out for us in the end, I still wish I had those lost years back. And, like I said.” Minus smiled wide. “It’ll piss Taxi off.”

  “I feel like Trouble doesn’t need me,” I said.

  “Trouble may not need you. Hell, she may not need anyone. But she sure as shit loves you. That’s easy to see. And I don’t know what she’s going through in the least bit, but I’d bet the club, she’d be able to face it better if you were there to remind her how strong she is.”

  “Thanks, Prez. I don’t know what to say.”

  “This isn’t a vacation. Just a layover on a business trip. Got it?”

  “Loud and clear,” I replied.

  “Good, ’cause there’s one more thing you need to take care of before you go and you aren’t gonna like it.”

  “What’s goin’ on?”

  “Kitty’s just brought me up to speed with this land deal your father’s involved with.”

  “Yeah, I already talked to him about it. He offered me a job. It’s nothing. Just family drama bullshit. I told him to fuck off.”

  “Yeah, well it seems your family drama has now become our family drama.”

  “How so?”

  “Do you know who your father’s doing b
usiness with?”

  I frowned. “All I know is he got Judge Snodgrass to greenlight a project with some company called Mayflower something or other—”

  “A land development deal,” Minus said.

  “Yeah,” I confirmed.

  “Do you happen to know where that land is located?”

  “Dad never mentioned it, so why would I care where the land is located?” I bit out.

  “You’d care if you knew that Judge Snodgrass is attempting to claim imminent domain on the land the Burning Saints currently call the Sanctuary.”

  “What the fuck?”

  “And that’s not all, junior. If what Kitty’s shown me is correct, the Mayflower Development Corporation is backed entirely by the Beast.”

  “How often is Kitty wrong?” I asked, my heart dropping.

  “Never. Which is why I need you to squash this shit.”

  “How am I supposed to do that?” I asked.

  “He’s your father,” Minus said. “You need to give it to him straight for his own protection as well as the club’s. I don’t know why he’s in bed with the Beast, or how much he knows about them, but if you can’t convince him to pull the plug on this deal, I’m gonna have to get involved.”

  Minus didn’t have to say anything more.

  “I’ll take care of this tonight,” I said.

  “Good. Now go borrow someone else’s suit and help Elwood in the painting booth before he fucks up another order.”

  I gave Minus a nod and did as I was told.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Doozer

  I SAT OUTSIDE my parents’ house and revved my bike’s engine as loud as I could. My father came rushing out of the house scowling, followed by mother. Her hands covering her ears.

  I killed the motor and removed my helmet.

  “Marco, what is this? Why all the noise?” my mother asked. “I thought it was the end of the world.”

  “I’m sorry, Ma. I didn’t mean to upset you. I just need to talk to Pop, that’s all.”

  “Normal people call,” my father said. “They don’t disturb the neighbors with a lot of racket.”

  “Sorry, Pop, did you say racket or rackets?” I asked, my eyes locked on my father. “I know you’ve got some new friends who are into some… interesting stuff.”

  “Go on inside, Marisa,” my father said, kissing my mother’s forehead. “Marco and I are gonna talk out here for a minute. I’ll be back inside before my coffee gets cold.”

  “Okay,” my mother said. “But no more noise with that motorbike,” she said, scurrying back to the house.

  “What the hell is all this about, Marco?”

  “You know it’s not a good idea to drink coffee at night. It can fuck with your sleep,” I said, climbing off my bike.

  “Is that why you’re here? To give me advice on how to sleep better?”

  “Actually, I’m curious how the fuck you manage to sleep at all,” I said, pulling Kitty’s file from my saddle bag. “Doing business with criminals, and all.”

  “What on earth are you talking about?” My father asked, scanning the pages in the file. “What is this? How did you get these documents?”

  “How I got them isn’t nearly as important as what’s in them,” I said.

  “These documents are my business,” my father bellowed, before quickly lowering his voice.

  “No, Pop. It’s okay. I want your neighbors to hear this. After all, it’s their approval you’ve been seeking all along, isn’t it? They should know who you really are.”

  “What are you talking about, Marco?”

  “You’ve spent so much time building up your precious reputation as some sort of pillar of the community. Caring only about what complete strangers think about you. Ashamed of your own son because he didn’t conform to your version of what it means to be a man. Living behind a phony code of ethics. But it’s all a lie, Pop.”

  “Marco, you don’t understand how the business world works—”

  “No, Pop. It’s you who doesn’t understand. These people you’re doing business with are criminals.”

  “No, no, see,” my father said smiling. Pointing to one of the documents. “You’re wrong, I’m working with Reggie Snodgrass on this. You know, the appellate court judge.”

  “Yeah, I know. Through his daughter’s development company.”

  “That’s right, his daughter Patricia,” my father confirmed.

  “Since when are you so chummy with the Snodgrass family?”

  “Reggie approached me right around the time I announced my retirement. He said he had a deal that would secure my retirement and asked if I’d be interested in investing.”

  “And you didn’t find it odd that a judge you’ve had nothing but contempt for in the past just happened to have a deal he wanted to cut you in on?”

  “Like I said, Marco. The business world is often complicated.”

  “How complicated was it to set up that off-shore account? Or did the judge do that for you?”

  “Is that what this is about? The tax shelter Patricia helped me set up?”

  “Tax shelter? Are you fucking kidding me, Pop? Or should I say Leo Vox?”

  “Please, son. Keep your voice down,” my father begged.

  “We could talk inside if you’d rather,” I said, pointing to the house. “I’d love to find out how much Mama knows about all of this.”

  “I don’t want you upsetting your mother any more tonight.”

  “Tell me, Pop. How much is it going to upset Mama when you go to jail for real estate fraud and tax evasion?”

  “I don’t know where you’re getting all these crazy ideas.”

  “Pop,” I said, placing my hands on my father’s shoulders. “The people you’re dealing with are as dirty as they come. The judge and his daughter are working with a criminal organization called the Beast, who are basically the new breed of the Dixie Mafia. The Beast is bankrolling the judge’s portion of the land buy, in exchange for his political influence within the Mayor’s office and the city council.”

  “I don’t know where you heard such a crazy story, but I can assure you, I’m merely an investor—”

  “In a real estate investment deal for the sale of the land my club currently occupies,” I said.

  “What are you talking about? The land we’re acquiring is all undeveloped commercial space. We’re working with the city to rezone the area as residential, then we can begin construction on our condos.”

  “You’ll have to forgive me if the thought of building condos on top of the Sanctuary doesn’t excite me.”

  “Son, I can assure you. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “No way,” I said. “You’re way too smart not to have seen what was going on. This is all part of a plan to get the Burning Saints out of Portland…” I paused, my blood turning to ice water. “The job,” I said.

  “What?”

  “The job you offered me. What did you call it? Logistics Manager?”

  My father nodded.

  “You wanted me to help you.”

  “Son, you have to understand. I—”

  “You son of a bitch. You wanted to hire me to help you kick my club off their land.”

  “Land purchased with blood money,” he snapped.

  “Holy shit. I was right,” I said. “Judge Snodgrass is going to claim imminent domain so the city can acquire the land for pennies on the dollar. The city will then sell the land to Mayflower who will in turn build condos, car parks, and a shopping center.

  “The Burning Saints are criminals who’ve taken from the city of Portland for too long,” my father sneered.

  “The Burning Saints are my family.”

  “We are your family! I am your family, Marco, and that motorcycle gang took you from me!” he shouted. “They took you from me and turned your heart against me.”

  “I can’t believe you thought I’d go along with you. That I would put a bullet in the back of my own club.”


  “Your club’s days are numbered in Portland. If it’s not this mayor who drives you out, it’ll be the next one. At least this way, your club stands to make enough money to set up shop someplace else.”

  “And, what? I stay here and work with dear old dad, punching a clock at the Mayflower Development Group?”

  “I told you, son. You’d be set up financially. You wouldn’t have to work for that gang anymore. This will be good for all of us. Don’t you see?”

  “The only thing I see is a delusional old man who’s in way over his head,” I said. “You need to understand that Snodgrass is not your friend or even your business associate. He’s a corrupt judge who’s under the thumb of the new breed of the Dixie Mafia. He’s only using you to get to our club.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  “Because the Beast wants to set up shop in Portland and believe me that’s the last thing you want. You’re right, the Burning Saints don’t have the cleanest record and we’ve spilled our share of blood, but that’s not who we’re trying to be anymore. And believe me when I tell you, that apart from some friends in high places, the Saints are the only ones keeping the Beast from running roughshod over Portland right now.”

  “Even if you’re right, there’s nothing I can do about it now. The deal’s already in motion.”

  “Then you’d better find a way to grind it to a halt within the next forty-eight hours or I’ll turn you into the police myself.”

  My father stared at me in disbelief.

  “I told you, Pop. My business is legit, and I have nothing to hide. Can you say the same?”

  “I just wanted us to be a family again,” he said softly.

  “Kill the deal, Pop,” I said. “’Cause if you don’t, I will, and I’ll make sure you go down with the Snodgrasses, the Beast, and everyone else who thought it was a good idea to fuck with my club.”

  * * *

  By the time I rode back to the Sanctuary, my eyeballs ached, and my head was pounding. Of all the shitty things I could imagine my father doing, I never could have imagined him becoming a criminal and joining forces with my enemy in order to destroy my club.