Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 33764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 169(@200wpm)___ 135(@250wpm)___ 113(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 169(@200wpm)___ 135(@250wpm)___ 113(@300wpm)
“They’re moving diamonds. And not just any diamonds. These are precut and worth millions, and we want them. And we want your help getting them.”
The room went dead silent.
This was no longer about petty smuggling or territorial disputes.
We were talking about something that could get a lot of people killed, including us. Normally, we wouldn’t have a conversation like this in the bar. It didn’t have the security that the conference room had, but Big and Bones made sure the entire place was locked down like a fucking vault. No one could see or hear anything we didn’t want them to.
With that in mind, I looked to Dad as I snapped, “Holy shit. Is this guy serious?”
“Oh, I couldn’t be more serious.”
Dad leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. “So, you want us to put our necks on the line while you sit back and reap the reward? You’ve got the wrong fucking club, because that shit’s not gonna happen.”
“No, you don’t understand... This would be a joint venture.”
Dad glanced over at Cotton, and suspicion was etched into every line of his face. Cotton had led the club for years and had recently taken on an entirely new role as Bruton’s successor—a once influential tradesman with powerful connections who found himself at the wrong end of a shotgun barrel.
His death opened an opportunity, and Cotton took it. Since then, he’d crossed paths with some very treacherous people—including the cartel. He knew there was something off with all this. We all did.
Dad turned back to Maltese as he asked, "A joint venture, huh?”
“Of course. We wouldn’t expect you boys to take this on alone. We would combine our resources and find the best way to get our hands on the goods.”
“And if we manage to get the goods?”
Maltese kept his voice low and steady as he answered, "You’ll get a significant cut—one that would make your troubles worthwhile."
I could see the wheels turning in Prez’s head. He was weighing the risks and rewards, and things weren’t balancing out. I could tell that he was about to tell Maltese to fuck off, and he saw it, too. Noting the look of doubt in Prez’s eyes, Maltese added, “We both stand to gain a lot from this venture.”
Trust was a rare commodity in our line of work, and while Maltese said all the right things, he worked for the cartel. That alone made him untrustworthy. Prez knew that. We all knew that, and we were all waiting for him to tell him to fuck off. Instead, he said, “We’ll think it over and get back to you.”
Maltese nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "I look forward to hearing from you.”
After Maltese left, Dad ordered us all to go home while he and the other officers mulled things over with Cotton.
The time had come for us to see what they’d decided.
When I pulled up at the clubhouse, Savage and several of the others had already started gathering in the conference room, and they all looked pretty tense. I felt the same. Swiping diamonds from another cartel was risky, even for us. There were too many moving pieces—too many ways for it to go wrong.
I didn’t like it, and I had a feeling Dad wasn’t thrilled either, but we had to hear him out. Business demanded it. I took my seat at the table, and the silence in the room was deafening. I glanced around the room and caught a few wary eyes. Seemed there were several who were just as concerned as me. Curious to know what he was thinking, I leaned over to Rooster and asked, “Whatcha thinking?”
“That this guy should go smoke a dog-turd in hell,” he scoffed. “I don’t wanna get tied up with these guys. I just hope your father agrees.”
“Me too.”
Dad had only been president for a few months, but he’d proven himself as sergeant-at-arms—and even before, when he was just a brother. The brothers knew that he could follow in Cotton’s footsteps with little struggle, and he had. In just a short time, he’d made some tough calls that left us standing even stronger, and I had no doubt that today would be no different.
His face was set in stone as he entered the room. He walked straight to the head of the table and stood there for several moments, weighing his thoughts before speaking. When he met my eyes, I felt the weight of everything he carried—the club, the men, our lives, and our futures.
He looked over to Savage and Wrath, then back to us before announcing, “We’re passing on the offer.”
His voice was hard and final, leaving no room for questions, and I couldn’t have been more relieved. And I wasn’t the only one. Stitch leaned back in his seat and sighed, “Well, Merry Christmas to me.”