Prosper shook his head. “That business is gonna stay as is, for now.”
More subdued conversations before Gunner lifted his chin again. “Boys are wondering just how good this deal is with the Aces.”
“They’re offering a twenty-five percent increase over street value.” Diego told them.
Satisfied nods all around and a bit more discussion before Gunner lifted two fingers in the air.
“Okay then. We’re ready.”
“Chair recognizes Gunner.”
“I’d like to make a motion to pull out of the heroin trade and sell the remaining goods to the Aces.”
Prosper brought down the gavel. “A motion is put on the table. Any one second?”
“I second.” Riker lifted his chin.
“Ayes?” Reno recorded the number in a ledger.
“Nays?”
“I vote no!” Drummer called out.
“Twenty in favor, one opposed. Majority rules—Motion carried.” Prosper brought down the gavel twice more. “Steak, shrimp and corn is on the grill, salad’s in the fridge, beer’s on tap. Enjoy, my brothers. I need the board to give me about five minutes with my man, Drummer. Go have a brew and I’ll call you in when I’m ready. Riker and Gunner don’t go far, I’m gonna need to speak to you, too.”
The men walked out, and Drummer Jones stayed put. His shoulders were slumped, but his eyes glittered with angry arrogance.
When he looked at Prosper it was with such a quiet rage, that for a moment it set Prosper back on his heels.
But Prosper knew all about guys like Drummer. They were a dime a dozen in the MC world. He was a violent man who liked to do violent things. The club had used him more than once as an enforcer, and while Prosper considered those types of orders (when he had to give them) to be a necessary evil, Drummer jumped at the chance to torture and mutilate. Prosper considered him a twisted fucker and watched him closely over the years, but he had proven himself to be a loyal soldier and a good earner albeit a cold- hearted bastard. Although Drummer was a long time member of the club, the brothers barely tolerated him and he hadn’t formed any real friendships.
“You know my old lady blames the patch for breaking us up.” He glared at Prosper.
“Yeah. Well you know, and I know that ain’t true, Drummer.” Prosper nodded, watching him carefully.
Drummer’s eyes shifted slightly. “Just that I was counting on the money to show the bitch it ain’t what she thinks. Show her that the club takes care of its own. I was counting on that heroin money to set up myself. That strip joint, The Polished Pussy, out on Route 33 is going up for auction next month and if I could get it at the right price? Wham! I could work at least half of that off book, then that ex-wife cunt of mine couldn’t soak me for college tuition.”
“Jesus.” Prosper muttered to himself. Drummer really was a major asshole, trying to get out of helping his kids make something of themselves? Poor fucking Deidre, things must have been worse for her than anyone even thought. Prosper had always liked her. She had been a quiet, loyal woman who had stood by her man longer than he deserved or was smart for her to do.
It had been about five years now since Deirdre had left him and Drummer had just gone downhill from there. The club had had to bail him out more than a couple of times for drunken and disorderly and there was that one time when he had roughed up club pussy. Not only had that not sit well with Prosper, it violated club code.
Drummer had been put on notice—either cut that shit out or lose his patch. For a while after that, Prosper had assigned a couple of prospects to keep an eye on him. Drummer full on resented it, but since it was that way or the highway, he accepted it—with hostility and anger. It had been a couple of years since then and Drummer had been towing the line. But looking at him now, Prosper could see a quiet rage brewing right under the surface and it made Prosper think that he should have just cut Drummer loose when he had had the chance.
“Have a seat, brother.” Prosper kicked out a chair from the table and nodded to it. Drummer sat but Prosper remained standing. “Talk to me.”
“Me talk to you? I said my piece in the vote, it didn’t mean shit.” Drummer sneered. Then he reached for his smokes. Drummer was just on the other side of fifty years old, but he looked a hell of a lot older. His beer gut had gotten out of control and hung over a large silver belt buckle with the MC logo on it.
Drummer had always worn his salt and pepper hair long but Prosper noticed now that it was on the greasy side and Drummer’s beard was tangled and ratty. His nails were untrimmed and there was a crescent of dirt under each one. Drummer had hands the size of ham hocks and each finger was decorated with cheaply made and overly large skull ring. He had the word hate inked one letter at a time on each finger of his left hand.
Prosper was aware that the MC had an image, and he was also aware that at least part of that image was more a representation of the life-style choice—the leathers, the ink, the in-your-face persona, rather than a true window into the man himself. But looking at him now, Prosper realized that Drummer had become exactly what he looked like—a mean, dirty, angry, sonofabitch.
Prosper waited while Drummer took another long draw of the cigarette. He stared at Prosper through the trail of smoke.
Disrespectful fucker
“You need to take fucking stock of yourself, Drummer. You look like you just rolled out from under a rock and you stink of booze, piss and sweat. No way to represent, man. Up to this point you’ve been harming only yourself by being too lazy or stupid to see that you’re turning into a piss-ass drunk. But now your bad fucking choices are interfering with the running of this club and I ain’t gonna let that happen.”
“That ain’t true,” Drummer shot out. “This club comes first with me, you know that, cost me my marriage, my kids…I lost fucking everything staying loyal to this club!”
“This club cost you nothing!” Prosper bellowed out. “Don’t you fucking pull that shit out again. Deirdre leaving you was a fucking million years ago and had nothing to do with the club! Club is the only thing that stuck by you and now I’m beginning to doubt the wisdom of that fucking choice!”
Prosper was furious as he continued to shout at ear splitting decibels. “When I propose a business arrangement that is in the best interest of this club and you thumb your fucking nose at it? You vote it down because of some personal damn agenda? Not fucking happening! You been with the Saints fifteen damn years and all that time you’ve been earning just like the rest of us. If it never occurred to you to put something a way for a rainy fucking day then that’s on you!”
“Calm the fuck down.” Drummer snarled.
Prosper lunged. He grabbed Drummer by the shoulders of his leather cut and pulled the big man up like he weighed nothing at all. Then Prosper slammed Drummer against the wall and pointed a finger in his face.
“The next time this club takes a vote and you’re the only nay-sayer, I’m gonna take one of those knives that you’re so fond of using and slice out your fucking tongue. Then I’m personally gonna skin that angel that you have the fucking honor…the honor…of wearing, right the off your back. You hear me, mother-fucker?”
“Yes sir.” This time the only tone in Drummer’s voice was one of respect…and fear.
“Get the fuck outa here.” Prosper said with disgust.
“We got trouble with Drummer, Boss?” Jules asked as the executive board came back in.
Prosper snorted. “Liking that cocksucker less and less every fucking day.”
“You and everyone else.” Reno nodded.
Then Prosper turned to Riker. “Brother, I called you back in because it appears you drew the short straw. This last run to deliver the heroin is yours. I know you got shit going on, and the timing’s not great, but with any luck you’ll be gone four days tops. Straight shoot down and back.”
Riker nodded. “Everyone’s got shit going on, boss. I’m down.”
“Gunner, you’re gonna be his wingman on this one.”
Diego said.
“Sounds good.” Gunner nodded.
Prosper looked around the table. “You boys are gonna be making sure all ducks are in order. I don’t want any mistakes. This is gonna be a nerve-wracking trip in a lot of ways and we want our brother, Riker, to feel confident that we got his back every step of the way. Gunner, you’re gonna be heading out a few hours before Riker and running a decoy on the north route. In case anyone is watching, we want to confuse the fuckers as much as we can. But there are no guarantees here. This last run is gonna be tricky. Crossing more than a few state lines with five kilos of smack…”
“Five will get you twenty-five.” Reno muttered.
“Yeah, and twenty-five years in a five by nine cell will get you crazy.” Diego added.
“I’d like to toss the shit out and cover the cost myself. But I don’t have half a million lying around, and I can’t ask that of the boys. Not when we are looking at some lean times ahead as it is. But I got to say, transporting all that smack, all that way? I don’t like it.”
“Then why don’t we bypass the runners, but use our connections to distribute for wholesale locally this one last time?” Reno asked. “With all due respect boss, I think the boys were wondering why that option wasn’t put on the table.”
Prosper nodded to Jules. “You wanna take this one?”
“Believe it or not, the option we took is the safer one. My sources tell me Judge Carmichael has gotten a task force together and undercover is a huge part of that. No telling who to trust on the street any more.We’ve got to move this out and fast.” Jules explained.
“I’ll take the product over the lines. Riker can drive the decoy.” Gunner volunteered.
“Not how it works, brother.” Riker said. “I’m next on the roster. I take the risk, you’re my back up.”
“We can switch off, it’s been done before.” Gunner shot back.
“I don’t know why my brother here is trying to move me out of the action, but I ain’t having none of it.” Riker said.
“It’s not like that and you know it. You’ve got a wife now and a baby on the way. You get sent up, it’s gonna fuck up three lives. Me? I got nobody. Only life getting fucked up by me doing time is my own,” Gunner said.
“You’re a valued part of this club brother. Just as much as anyone else.” Riker clapped a hand on Gunner’s shoulder. “I appreciate it but it ain’t gonna happen.”
Gunner looked at Prosper. “You gonna step in here?”
Prosper shook his head. “Nice gesture, G-man, but Riker’s right. We can’t go changing the order of business every time someone’s old lady gets knocked up.”
Then he nodded to Jules. “You wanna roll out the map that you’ve been working on?”
Jules walked over to a side table where a bunch of schematics, maps, and time tables stood at the ready.
Gunner let out a low whistle. “Impressive job, Jules.”
“Insane, ain’t it?” Prosper looked like a proud papa.
“In here we got intel on the most patrolled routes, schedules, and locations where the fuckers like to sit low in the weeds.” Jules pointed to a blue folder. “I was also able to hack into a system that ties into the main source of power for the traffic lights and turn them into a damn light show. That should draw some attention, and with luck it’ll create a diversion where the state lines meet.”
“How much time are you figuring it’s gonna take before we begin transporting?” Riker threw out the question to the room.
Prosper asked Jules. “How much longer you gonna need?”
“I’ve just started the implementation phase. Now that I’m in, I have to reconfigure the schematics and link the timing sequences. I can have most of it done within the next two weeks, but that’s working on it twenty-four seven. So if there’s anything else you want done, it’ll have to be placed on the backburner, yeah?”
“Agreed.” Prosper confirmed. “This takes priority over everything else.”
“Okay, then. I’d say two weeks, give or take a couple of days either way.” Jules told him.
Diego frowned.
“You got something to say?” Prosper asked.
“I was just thinking. The tri-state centennial is coming up this year. I saw the Governor on TV the other day talking it up. Gonna be all kinds of shit happening, food tents, hot air balloons, exhibitions. Every bordering state is having their own festival, and they’re all happening on the same weekend. Local law and state police gonna be busier than hell. Might be good if we could coincide the transport with that.”
Jules nodded. “You got a date on that, brother?”
“Yeah, it’s all happening the weekend of the fifteenth.” Diego pointed to the wall calendar.
“That gives us just under two weeks. Can you get everything done in time?
“Yeah. I can make it happen.” Jules said.
“So, we’re ready to roll out on the fifteenth then?” Prosper looked around the room.
“Yeah, no problem.” Gunner answered without hesitation. Then he grinned. “Fifteen is my lucky number.”
“Then it’s all good, brothers. Next few days are going to be real busy. We’re gonna drill and kill this thing until we’re sure we have it down.”
Riker nodded absently but didn’t say anything.
“Something on your mind, brother? You got a concern, now’s the time to voice it.”
Riker hesitated then scrubbed a hand over his face. “Nah. I’m good with the plan. One thing has nothing to do with the other.”
“Yeah? So, what’s the other?” Diego asked.
“The club still got that family lawyer on retainer?”
“Yeah. We do. As a matter of fact, he’s on his way over now, gonna help one of the boys with a custody dispute. Why you asking?” Prosper arched a bow.
“Cause I’m gonna need to talk to him.” Riker sighed.
When he walked in through the door, Gia was at the kitchen table folding a bunch of laundry. Riker’s relief at seeing her doing something so calm, mundane and domestic sent a relief through his body Then he saw the open suitcase on the chair next to her. It was half filled with the freshly folded and laundered clothes.
She was so intent on her task that she didn’t look up when he opened the door.
Either that or she was ignoring him.
“Hey, Gia.” Riker said softly.
“Hey, Riker.” Gia answered just as softly, but she stayed focused on the folding and packing.
Riker considered her for a moment and waited for her to raise her eyes to him. When it became obvious to him that she had no intention of further acknowledging him, Riker walked around the table and leaned toward her. His big body fenced her in between the table, the chair, the suitcase and himself. Gia stopped at first, her body going stock still as if waiting for the flight or fight response to kick in. Riker waited for it too. When she whirled from him and banged her knee hard against the chair, her balance faltered, and he was there to catch and steady her. But the motion sent the suitcase flying to the floor.
“Damn it!” Gia pulled away from him and looked down at the suitcase, then up at Riker. Hurt, anger and something else—something deeply visceral radiated out from her beautiful brown eyes. Riker dropped her arm but stayed where he was. She waved her hand at the splayed clothing lying between them on the floor. “You want to back off?”
Riker thought carefully about his next move.
“What are you doing, honey?” He kept his voice low and steady.
“Please, Riker, please just back away.” The pleading in her voice just about broke his heart. Then Gia let out a long fractured breath, as if releasing something pent-up and poisonous. “It’s getting hard enough for me to bend down as it is, with you this close it’s impossible.”
Riker held her eyes until he saw them turn bright with tears, then she looked away. He wasn’t going to make this harder for her by caging her in. He took a couple of steps away from her, then he bent down and grabbed the fall
en clothes and the suitcase. He put the clothes on the table but placed the suitcase in the far corner of the room out of her reach. When Riker walked back to Gia he was careful not to stand too close.
“What are you doing, Gia?”
“I’m going to see my cousin.” Gia face kept her face averted but her nose lifted slightly in the air.
In fucking Haiti? I don’t think so.
“You plan on taking my baby with you?”
Gia whipped her head around at him and put a protective hand over her belly. “Don’t be ridiculous, I can’t exactly leave him home.”
“Him?” Riker arched a brow and grinned.
“It’s just a pronoun Riker, I refuse to call our baby it. We agreed not to find out the gender of the baby, and I—unlike you—keep my promises.”
“See that’s the thing, honey.” He shook his head as if sadly resigned.
“What’s the thing?” Gia asked.
“Our baby. We agreed. You pretty much just said it yourself. We’re in this together.”
“Humph” She crossed her arms over her chest.
“What does Humph mean, Gia? And what do you mean I don’t keep my promises? Name one thing so far that I haven’t delivered on.” Riker moved towards the kitchen and the tea kettle. He intended to break the damn tension because the woman was acting crazy. He leaves for a couple of hours and she’s packing her shit up and moving to the Caribbean?
What. The. Fuck?
“You want some chamomile tea?” Riker asked. She loved the shit and thank god too, because apparently those dried flower buds could calm down a stampede of elephants.
Gia bit her lip and nodded absently then slumped down in the chair and waited. In the three minutes it took to make the tea, neither of them said a thing.
Riker brought it to her, hot and sweetened with honey just the way she liked it. When he put the cup on the table in front of her, she leaned in over the mug and breathed in the fragrant steam. Riker watched Gia as she let out a long sigh and her shoulders slumped with released tension.
Riker waited while she took a couple of tentative sips. Then he pulled up a chair and sat across from Gia until his knees touched hers. He waited until she put the cup down and grabbed both of her hands in his. Though his touch was light, it was also firm and when Gia tried to pull away, he tightened his grip. She stared down at the strong hands that held hers.
Raising Riker (Hells Saints MC) Page 9
