Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 111416 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111416 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
“What connection did she have?” Crew asked.
“A while ago D’s cousin got herself a bit twisted an’ was seein’ one of their members,” Zak explained, once again bringing calmness to the table.
“Name?” Crew asked.
Z took a quick glance at D before answering, “Slash.”
Crew shook his head. “Doesn’t sound familiar.”
One side of Diesel’s mouth pulled up. “Reason for that.”
Crew’s gaze sliced to him. “You really think it’s smart to be dropping hints about the sketchy shit you’ve done?”
“What the fuck you gonna do about it?” D challenged, crossing his beefy arms over his chest. “Let’s hear it.”
Crew raised a palm. “Look. We’re trying to be civil here. You cooperating with us would be beneficial to you. We wouldn’t want your cousin involved, either. It’s too risky. Instead, we would work with your club.”
“The fuck?” Diesel exploded from his chair. “The fuck you will. You fuckin’ think we wanna work with your pig asses willingly?” He jerked his chin at Cross and Jamison. “Those two motherfuckers ain’t supposed to step one fuckin’ foot inside this church an’ here they are. Actin’ like they’re welcome.”
“D, sit down,” Zak said quietly.
The sergeant at arm’s dark eyes fell on his president.
“Sit down,” Zak repeated with a single eyebrow raised.
Diesel’s face twisted and he thumped back into his seat. “Ain’t fuckin’ likin’ this shit. We ain’t workin’ with no pigs.”
Of course that went just as Fletch thought it would.
The whole reason Crew took his time getting to the point was to ease the bikers into the idea. To show them the task force and the DAMC would both benefit from working together and why.
Too bad Jamison’s brother had to have his two goons with him.
“Maybe we can use them to our advantage,” Hawk suggested.
Okay, maybe the one with the mohawk was sort of reasonable. The other? Not so fucking much.
“Agreed,” Zak said. “We really wanna get into a war with the Demons like our club did with the Warriors? That fuckin’ conflict lasted for decades. Everythin’ we fuckin’ do is to make shit better for the generations to follow. Includin’ your girls, D. We lost enough to the Warriors. Don’t wanna lose anyone or anythin’ else. Whether by the Demons or by drugs.”
“What happened to the Warriors?” Fletch asked, wondering if they’d fess up. “Seems like those nomads simply up and disappeared.”
“Dunno,” Diesel grumbled. “Don’t give a fuck. Guessin’ they got tired of fuckin’ with us an’ left the area.”
Right. They simply “left.” Fletch believed that about as much as he believed in the Tooth Fairy.
“Probably all crawled back into their mommy’s basements,” Zak finally said.
Fletch didn’t believe that, either.
He was pretty fucking sure that the DAMC had a hand in the Warriors vanishing from the area, whether they got rid of them or chased them away. However, Fletch found it curious with how that club’s name never came up in NCIC, the national crime base, anymore. Not only in Pennsylvania but throughout the rest of the country.
Could they have disbanded and the members went on to patch with other MCs? Sure. Did Fletch think they did?
He glanced at Diesel.
Fuck no.
Zak placed both of his hands flat on the table with their fingers spread wide, like he was about to get up. “Since we got no connection with the Demons, guessin’ we’re done here.”
Damn, for a second there Fletch thought the president was going to be agreeable. Of course, that would’ve been too easy and the bikers’ goal from the second Fletch and his brothers walked into the DAMC clubhouse was to make things difficult for them.
Crew stopped him dead in his tracks. “We want to create one.”
Zak lifted his chin. “We don’t run drugs.”
“Not running. Dealing,” Crew clarified.
“Don’t do that fuckin’ shit, either.”
“Economy’s tough right now. Some are pushed to do things they normally don’t do.”
“Dealin’ fuckin’ drugs.”
“Pretending to deal drugs.”
Zak sat back in his chair and stared at Crew for a good thirty seconds before saying, “Despite what you probably think, we got a good rep in this community. Don’t wanna fuck that up. Could also fuck with the success of our businesses.”
“We can have one of your members go rogue and sell drugs behind your backs,” Crew suggested.
The president’s mouth twisted. “Would never happen.”
Fletch bit his tongue. If he started calling them out on every damn lie or stretched truth being told in that room, he wasn’t going to make things go more smoothly.
“But it could.” Fletch winged his thumb over his shoulder toward the common area behind him. “I’m sure you’ve had prospects, maybe even members, do stupid shit.”
Fletch doubted every DAMC member was a real angel, either. More like fallen angels with dirty wings.
Zak shrugged. “An’ then we fuckin’ handle it like we normally do.”
Fletch continued with a possible scenario. “Money’s tight for one of your members, he reaches out to the Demons to score some meth so he can make a little extra dough on the side.”