“Yeah, I know Billy is the best at what he does, but a man like Scar is gonna have connections—the kind of connections that could have him easily putting two and two together. If that happens, we’ll have trouble knocking at our door.”
“So, what the fuck are we going to do about it?”
“For now, we’re going to tighten the reins,” Viper answered sternly. “Watch your back. Don’t take any unnecessary chances, and the girls will need to limit their sales to clients they know they can trust. No new buyers.”
Viper had always led with an iron first. He knew what was at stake and never failed to do what was best for the club. If he gave an order, I wouldn’t think twice about questioning him. Our VP, on the other hand, was there to make sure he was making the right call, so I wasn’t surprised when he asked, “You really think all that’s necessary?”
“Wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t.” Viper looked to Axel as he continued, “I know it’s asking a lot. I know we’re gonna lose a shit-ton of revenue over this, but Menace is looking into this guy. As soon as we know more about what we’re dealing with, then we can consider reevaluating the situation.”
Hawk’s eyes narrowed. “But how’s Menace gonna find this guy when we don’t know anything about him? It’s like he’s a fucking ghost.”
“You’re right, he is. But McKinney mentioned a guy named James Schommer,” Shotgun replied. “McKinney said he’s our direct line to Scar.”
“Who the fuck is James Schommer?”
“Don’t know much, just that he’s some math professor or some shit like that.” Shotgun’s expression was filled with frustration as he shrugged. “Apparently, he’s the brains behind their operation and is in direct contact with Scar. When we find Schommer, we find Scar.”
“Menace will track him down. Until he does, we do like I said. Buckle down and play it safe.”
I gave him a nod of assurance. “We’ll do whatever needs to be done.”
Viper stood as he ordered, “I want extra eyes on the girls at the club. You boys work it out among yourselves, but someone needs to be on the premises for every shift.”
“Understood.”
With that, he slammed the gavel down on the table and ended church. The guys slowly started to disperse from the conference room, and one by one we filed into the bar- a place where we could talk freely about things without worrying about any civilians overhearing. I could tell by my brothers’ expressions they weren’t happy about the bomb Shotgun had dropped on us. Hell, I wasn’t thrilled about that shit either. We’d just spent the night before celebrating the fact we’d taken down the Punishers, so it was extremely disappointing to discover more trouble could be on its way. Widow was the first to voice his opinion on the matter.
He picked up an empty beer bottle and hurled it into the trash, the glass shattering against the metal container as he grumbled, “Guess there are worse things than hanging out in a strip club all the fucking time.”
“No doubt,” Country agreed. “Gotta love all the ass and titties, but it’d be even better if I was getting my dick wet while I was at it. But … hey, no man can have it all.”
“Fuck, the last thing you need to be worried about is gettin’ your dick wet,” Hawk bickered. “Hell, the way you’re always going at it, I’m surprised your shit hasn’t rotted the fuck off.”
“Raincoats, brother.” Country reached down and grabbed his junk. “Never take a dip without one.”
“Enough about Country and his fucking dick. We got real shit to discuss,” Shotgun barked. “Gotta figure out the schedule for the next couple of weeks. We’ve got ten hours to cover each night at both clubs, so we can either divide that shit up into shifts or take a full night. Need at least three of us there at all times. Four on the weekends.”
“I’m up for whatever,” Widow quickly replied. “Just tell me when to be there.”
“Same for me,” Hawk added.
“Good. I’ll make up a schedule and get it out to everyone. For now, go home and get some rest.” Shotgun glanced over at Lynch and added, “Looks like some of you could use it.”
It was clear from Shotgun’s expression that his statement wasn’t a suggestion but an order. No one complained; instead, we all left the bar and headed out to our bikes, each knowing the next few weeks were going to be long and brutal. We had no idea just how brutal, but we were about to find out.
Chapter 2
Marlowe
We all know those girls who have perfect hour-glass figures, flawless skin, and naturally-thick, beautiful hair that women spend hundreds of dollars trying to replicate. With just a quick flicker of their long eyelashes and a feigned smile, everyone fawns all over them. Well, one of those girls would be my younger sister, Kate, in a nutshell.
From the moment Kate was born, she was a shining star. Everyone adored her, especially my parents. It didn’t matter what it was—clothes, toys, even jewelry—if she wanted it, she got it. If that wasn’t enough, it seemed she could do no wrong. Kate had perfect grades, wonderful friends, and even when she slipped up and made a mistake, there always seemed to be a valid reason why it was someone else’s fault—mainly mine.
I, on the other hand, was nothing like my sister. I had two left feet, curves in all the wrong places, and don’t get me started on my hair or skin. I wasn’t a complete troll, but I didn’t hold a candle to my sister. How could I? She was the one with all the expensive clothes and trendy, new hairstyles. My parents made sure of that. They also made sure she had cheer lessons, dance lessons, and everything in between. None of which was allowed for me. I tried not to let it bother me how I was always left in her shadow. After all, it wasn’t her fault she was God’s gift to humanity and the apple of my parents’ eyes. She couldn’t help the fact my parents never seemed to think about me unless there was something I could do for their precious Kate.
I did my best to swallow the hurt, but as the years went by, I grew tired of always being second best. I’d hoped going off to college would help, but my parents would only support my attending a nearby community college. I quickly learned why. They wanted me to be close so I could help out whenever they needed me. After years of pure and utter neglect, I’d had enough. I was done catering to Kate’s every whim, so I packed up my things and left San Antonio. I set off to Tennessee in hopes of making a life of my own and never looked back.
I’d like to say my big move went off without a hitch, but that was far from the truth. I left home with very little money, two years into a business degree, and absolutely no job prospects whatsoever. All I had was my unbreakable will and determination, but sadly, that just wasn’t enough. No one wanted to hire someone with no experience, so I got turned down for one job after the next. There were days when I worried I wouldn’t make it, but I finally caught a break when I found Crockett’s.
I didn’t have money for a place, so I’d spent the night in my car. When I woke up, I found a flyer for the small bar plastered across my windshield. I figured it wouldn’t hurt to see if they might be hiring. My clothes were a little disheveled, but I pulled my hair up in a ponytail, put on my best smile, and headed inside. Crockett’s was small and a bit on the rustic side with just a few booths along the wall and a couple of tables scattered about. The décor was lackluster at best, but the place was hopping. There wasn’t an empty seat in sight as I made my way through the crowd. When I reached the bar, I spotted an elderly lady with short gray hair and dark, round glasses. She was wearing a plaid shirt with baggy jeans and boots and didn’t seem to be in any hurry as she shuffled from one end of the bar to the other.