Devil's Disciples MC (Box Set)

by Scott Hildreth

  I had no idea where he was going with the story but decided to play along. “Who weighed more?” I asked. “Between the two of you?”

  He laughed as if recalling the memory. “Ghost. He was eating cheeseburgers when he was a year old.”

  “Okay.” I grinned. “Go ahead.”

  “Ghost was sure it was going to be a lop-sided race. I thought otherwise. I convinced him we needed Tito to decide who won. So, Tito went to the bottom of the hill, and we were supposed to race right past him. Tito went to the end of the block and raised his arms. When they fell, we took off.”

  “Ghost’s big ass was peddling like his life depended on it, and so was I. Every hundred feet or so, I’d gain a foot on him. By the time we were halfway down the block, I was ahead by ten feet. When I rushed past Tito, I was ahead by twenty.”

  “So, you won?” I asked.

  He cleared his throat. “Kind of.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I tossed my bike down in the street and was waving my arms in the air like an Olympian that had just crossed the finish line in a footrace. While I was bouncing around like an idiot with my hands in the air, Ghost kept looking at me like he hated me. Glaring that Porter Reeves glare. I put my arms down and asked him what his problem was. He punched my in the mouth so hard he knocked out my two front teeth.” He tapped the tip of his finger against his teeth. “These two are fake.”

  “Holy crap,” I gasped. “He was that mad about the race?”

  “He wasn’t mad about the race at all. He said, ‘To truly be a victor, you’ve got to remain humble. Maybe that’ll humble you.’ or some shit like that. He was teaching me a lesson.”

  He met my gaze and held it. “You’re goddamned good at what you do. But, you don’t brag about it. You’re just like Ghost. You’re talented and humble. Two more attractive qualities to add to the list of many.”

  I smiled. “Thank you.”

  He looked me over. He shifted his attention to the flowers beyond me. After a moment of thought, he met my gaze. His filthy face was washed with a curious look.

  “What?” I asked.

  His mouth twisted into a smirk. “Nothing.”

  “Nothing?”

  “Yeah,” he said with a laugh. “When I’m really, really happy, my mind goes blank. I got nothing.”

  “I thought we were going to be truthful with one another?” I asked.

  “We are.”

  I scowled jokingly. “Your mind’s not blank right now.”

  “No.” He grinned. “It sure isn’t.”

  146

  GOOSE

  My mind had been reeling since the botched job in Bakersfield. I knew Baker would be aggravated, but I had no idea how deep his frustration ran. As soon as our Wednesday meeting began, I found out.

  “As if finding an empty fucking safe wasn’t enough,” Baker said, pacing in front of where we were seated. “We damned near got nabbed by a local cop.”

  He paused and looked at each of us. “But that’s not all, folks. Not even close. While trying to escape the grip of said cop, our getaway driver came within inches of smashing into a fucking tree.”

  “It was my cat-like reflexes that saved us, Bake,” Cash said.

  Baker glared. “Cat-like?”

  Cash nodded. “I didn’t almost crash. I saved us from crashing. There’s a difference.”

  “If it hadn’t been for Goose screaming ‘Left! Left! Turn fucking left!’ You would have hit that fucking tree, Cash. God bless Ghost’s soul, but we’re in a goddamned mess right now. I’m tempted to say until further notice we’re done doing any job that requires driving.”

  Cash stood. “Whoa. Wait a minute. I need that income. My new house and starting that nursery sucked up all my cash. I’m running on empty.”

  “I don’t see how that’s possible,” I said. “We all make the exact same amount on each job. Other than Reno—who gambles away a quarter of a million a couple of time a year—you’re the only one that’s broke. Why is that, Cash?”

  He gave me the once-over. “Says the guy that inherited Ghost’s fortune.”

  I jumped from my seat. “Don’t you fucking dare bring Ghost, his income, or my inheritance into this. I save my money. I’ve got half the income from that job in Phoenix we did in 2010, and everything I’ve made since. Every fucking dime. That’s a hell of a lot better than I can say for you, you broke-as-a-joke motherfucker.”

  “Fuck you,” he spat.

  I puffed my chest. “Fuck you. When you were trying to run from that cop, I was thinking getting caught wouldn’t be all bad. At least if we got caught, I’d be alive. That’s what I was thinking. God, let me live through this. You goddamned near killed us, you stupid prick.”

  “The only reason you’re not dead is because I drove our asses out of there like a boss.” He looked at Baker, and then at me. “I lured that cop into that tree on purpose. I was getting ready to say something about that.”

  I folded my arms over my chest and laughed out loud. “Oh, so now you planned that little butt-puckering maneuver, huh? Did you plan on screaming like a bitch, too? Do you believe the lies you tell us? Do you really?”

  “Enough!” Baker barked. “Enough. This isn’t a fuckin’ pissing match, it’s a club meeting. A club meeting that I’m in charge of. Sit the fuck down. Both of you.”

  I sat. After expressing some reluctance, Cash followed.

  There was dissention in the ranks, no doubt. Tension was high, spirits were low, and we needed to restructure our way of doing things. Nearly getting nabbed while slow-rolling away from a job because Cash didn’t have enough common sense to see the cop that stood in wait clipped my last nerve.

  “I’m with Baker,” I said. “We need to little smash and grabs and shit. Shit we can do on the Ducatis.”

  Cash glared. “We’re fuckin’ biker bandits, now?”

  “That’s what started this,” I argued.

  “We did that for years,” Reno said. “Back to the basics. Works for the Filthy Fuckers.”

  “The Filthy Fuckers make their money robbing drug dealers and pimps,” Cash complained. “Not doing smash and grabs.”

  “Maybe we look at doing that. Drug dealers and shit.” I shrugged and then looked at Baker. “Bake?”

  “The Filthy Fuckers have a former Navy SEAL running the show,” he said. “He’s trained those guys on how to do such tasks. We’re not.”

  “Well,” I gestured to Reno. “We’ve got a former Army Ranger who fought along that Navy SEAL’s side. Crip even said he was impressed with Reno’s ability.”

  Baker looked at Reno and raised his brows. “Reno?”

  “We can give it a try,” Reno said with a little hesitation in his voice.

  “Do you see problems with it?” Baker asked.

  “Training everyone on how to handle weapons, clear rooms, and take hostages? It’ll take a while. Goose is the only one who knows weapons.”

  “I can handle a weapon,” Cash bragged.

  “Properly handle a weapon,” Reno added.

  “I’m back to what I said earlier,” Baker said. “At least for now. We’re going to lay low for a while. I can’t risk everything to keep egos and bank accounts fed.”

  “Oh, so for the few of us that aren’t as well off as others,” Cash whined. “We just suffer?”

  Baker shrugged. “Should have made better financial decisions, I guess.”

  “I’m going to need to get a second job,” Cash complained. “I can tell you that.”

  “Get a second job,” Baker said. “If that’s what you’ve got to do. I can’t put everyone at risk because we don’t have anyone that is willing—or able—to drive a getaway car.”

  “Got a question for the group,” I said.

  “Open floor,” Baker responded. “As long as you’re not making stabs at Cash.”

  “I know this chick that can crack safes. She—”

  “What do you mean, crack safes?” Cash blurted.

&nbs
p; “She can manipulate the locks. Open them without cutting into them,” I explained.

  “Lock manipulation can be taught,” Tito chimed. “But it’s truly a gift. I’ve tried it, and it’s not for me. It takes sensitive fingertips, and a real knack for understanding the inner dynamics of the piece of equipment you’re working with. There are people who can crack safes in minutes.”

  “She’s one of them,” I said, alternating glances between Baker and Tito. “She can manipulate a lock in minutes.”

  “Where are you going with this?” Baker asked.

  “I’m just thinking out loud,” I responded.

  “I’m listening,” he said. “But when you’re done, I’d like to know where this ‘chick’ came from. I thought you’d sworn off women after the divorce.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Comes as no secret that we’ve all got our strengths. We each offer something to this club. If we all had the exact same abilities, this would be one lop-sided group. Our talent base gives us diversity. Agreed?”

  “I’ll agree to that,” Baker responded. “I’m still waiting to see where you’re going. You looking to outsource work? Use this chick as contract labor? If so, I’m not willing to jump on that idea. We’ll have no outsiders knowledgeable of this club’s operations.” He gave me a look. “You know that.”

  “What if she wasn’t an outsider?” I asked.

  “Whoa,” Cash said. “You’re saying we should let this chick in? A fucking girl?”

  I looked at Cash. “What? Are you in fucking kindergarten? You want to push her down or pull her ponytail?”

  “Girls are fine. But I don’t like ‘em all up in my business.”

  I looked at Baker. “She can drive.”

  “Everyone can drive.”

  “She can drive like Ghost. Has that same humble attitude, too. Held the track record at some racetrack out in Connecticut in 2005 and 2006.”

  “Lime Rock Park?” Tito asked.

  I nodded. “That’s it.”

  Baker seemed to be considering my recommendation. “Who is this chick?”

  “Alessandra ‘Ally’ Ferretti.” Tito held his phone in the air. “She’s on Lime Rock Park’s web page. You’ll Love this Baker. Said she set the record in a 1997 Porsche Turbo S.”

  Baker was a Porsche fan, and had one that he raced, too.

  “That’s a damned fine car,” Baker said. “It’s funny. That car set records in 1997, and it’s still faster than ninety-nine percent of what’s produced today. A dyno-tune on it will make it faster than anything on the road.” He shifted his eyes from Tito to me. “Do you think she can be trusted?”

  “If she’s related to Franky ‘Fingers’ Ferretti, you know she can be trusted,” Tito said.

  “Who the fuck’s Franky ‘Fingers’ Ferretti?” Baker asked.

  I wondered the same thing.

  Tito looked up from his phone. “Famous safe cracker. Did it for years. Suspected on multiple crimes, never charged, never convicted. Held the world record for cracking safes. He was smooth. Worked the east coast from the early eighties, up until the day he died, I guess. Some say he cracked thousands of safes.”

  Baker looked at me. “Was her father a safe cracker?”

  I nodded “Sure was. He taught her.”

  “Just found his obituary,” Tito said. “Yep. That’s her. She’s listed as his only child.”

  “Daughter of a famous safe cracker, huh?” Baker asked. “How do you know this chick?”

  “Met her at that diner. She’s the girl that looks like Ghost’s fiancé.”

  “You fucking her?” Baker asked.

  “For the sake of this conversation, I don’t know that it matters much.”

  “The hell it doesn’t,” he argued. “I don’t think having your love interest around is what’s best for this club.”

  I knew damned good and well that I was falling in love with Ally. How I felt about her, however, wasn’t anyone’s business but mine. Admitting it to the club wasn’t going to do anything but harm the possibility of her being widely accepted by the others.

  “I’m not saying I haven’t poked my dick in her.” I stood and looked at each of the men. “But she’s not my ‘love interest’. For the record, Baker, because of your ‘love interest’, we were chipping concrete off a cop’s dead body and tossing the pieces in a kiln owned by another club. Was that in the club’s best interest? Fuck no. Did ya hear anyone bitching about it?” I crossed my arms. “You sure as fuck didn’t.”

  “Point taken.” Baker surveyed the group. “Thoughts?”

  “If she can drive and crack safes, I’m all for giving her a chance. Maybe have her crack a safe in here, then give her a tryout on driving,” Reno said. “Have her drive the BMW. Big difference between it and a go-cart or little go-fast car.”

  “If she’s Franky Ferretti’s daughter, I trust her well enough to see what she’s got,” Tito said. “She grew up knowing the value in staying tight-lipped. Give her a chance.”

  Baker looked at Cash. “Well?”

  “This the difference between doing jobs and not doing jobs?”

  “Right now,” Baker responded. “Yes, it is.”

  “Bring her in,” Cash said. “But I vote we don’t tell her shit yet. Nothing about who we are, or what we do. Not until she proves herself. Have her meet us at Goose’s place, not here. She doesn’t need to know about this place until we all agree. She’s gonna have a hell of a time convincing me, though.”

  Baker looked around the room. “Motion?”

  “I motion we give Alessandra Ferretti an opportunity to prove her worth at cracking safes. If she passes, we give her an opportunity to impress us with her driving,” Tito said. “After that, we can vote on letting her in. Meeting place, Goose’s house.”

  “Opposed?” Baker asked.

  The only sound was the one coming from my anxious heartbeat.

  147

  ALLY

  Kneeling in front of Goose’s safe, I moved the dial back and forth two and a half numbers until the fence fell between the final set of contact points. When I felt it engage, I glanced over my shoulder. “Who wants to turn the handle?”

  “Six minutes, thirty-two seconds,” Tito said.

  “I’m calling bullshit,” Cash whined from behind me. “You could have known the numbers. Goose could have gave ‘em to you.”

  “Did you see how she did it?” Tito asked. “She didn’t turn the dial like that. It’s different.”

  Reno reached around me, pulled against the handle, and opened the door. “Fucker’s empty.” He cackled a laugh. “That looks familiar.”

  “I emptied it,” Goose said.

  Cash scoffed. “I don’t believe this shit. Sorry.”

  “Well,” Goose said. “If you would have brought a safe like we talked, we could have used a different one. But you didn’t. So we can’t. I’m sure she’s willing to go to your house and open your safe if you want her to.”

  “I couldn’t afford to buy one,” Cash complained. “And, she ain’t fucking with my safe.”

  Goose scoffed. “Why can’t she fuck with your safe? I thought you didn’t believe in this shit?”

  “I saw all I need to see,” Baker said. “I’m convinced.”

  Still crouching in front of the safe, I stood and turned to face the men. Cash folded his arms over his chest and flexed his biceps. “You might be. I’m not. Convinced or impressed.”

  “Take me to another safe,” I said. “I can open anything.”

  Cash stared. Not at me. He just stared.

  “I just thought of something,” Reno said.

  “What?” Goose asked.

  Reno looked at the safe and then at me. “Can you open big safes?”

  “Size doesn’t matter.” I chuckled. “When it comes to safes, that is.”

  “Big safes. Like really big?” he asked.

  “Big enough to park a truck in,” I responded. “It really doesn’t matter. A safe is a safe. The locking mechanisms a
re the same in all of them.”

  Baker stepped between us, off to the side. He stroked his beard with the web of his hand. “I think I like the sound of this.”

  Reno folded his arms across his chest. Apparently, it was a biker thing. “Bank vault?”

  “I can, and I have,” I responded.

  “How long does it take you to get in?”

  “Ten minutes if things go well. An hour if it’s a tough lock.”

  Reno looked at Baker. “Holy. Shit.”

  At the same that Reno spoke, Cash did a “Pffft” sound. I didn’t want to get off on the wrong foot with him, but I wasn’t going to work with anyone that treated me like a liar. Nor was I going to be belittled by anyone.

  Even if he was six-six in height and weighed two hundred and fifty pounds.

  I looked right at him. Not a full-fledged glare, but a stern look. “Are you calling me a liar?”

  With his arms still crossed, he flexed his massive biceps. “I’m saying I don’t believe a bank vault can be manipulated or whatever you call it.”

  Men like Cash irritated me. Always the cynic. No. No. No. I don’t believe it. Prove it. I didn’t see it, so it didn’t happen. I don’t understand it, so it can’t be. Trust was a two-way street, and if he wanted me to trust him, he needed to trust me. I didn’t expect him to trust me just yet, but at that moment, it wasn’t about trust. It was about intimidation. He was trying to intimidate me.

  I studied him.

  His hair was cut short on the sides, and he wore it long on top, like an old-school punk rocker. His massive arms were covered in tattoos and his jaw was darkened by a few days’ scruff. He would probably intimidate most, but I wasn’t most. I swallowed my desire to tell him to fuck off and took two steps in his direction. Just to prove he didn’t scare me.

  I looked him in the eyes. “I’ve done bank vaults in the past.” I said, my tone flat and without emotion. “In fact, to clarify, I’ve manipulated locks in several rural small-town banks.”

  He said nothing.

  With that problem solved, I turned to Baker. “Where were we?”