“Before you tell me to go fuck myself, you should probably know I already hired my mother-in-law as the head cook and she’ll have your balls on a platter if you take away her job.”
Giving Jack a minute to process the news, I grab the phone.
“You did this on your own?” I ask.
“If you’re asking if I laid out the money, yes. I’ve got more than I know what to do with Black and the club can pay me back after we’re back on our feet.”
Peering at Jack from the corner of my eye, I wonder if that’s eased the blow to his pride.
“Well, that explains the restaurant tables,” Cobra says, knocking his knuckles against the grain.
“It’ll be another legit business for the club and with our cop friend in the dirt, it’ll keep the pigs off our backs. It’s time to bring back the clubhouse parties, man. I’m not saying we fill the joint with hookers and shit but, we used to celebrate when we patched someone in. What do our prospects have to look forward to? Free pickings on Wolf's tomato plants?”
“If we dig up that fucking garden, we’ll have more room on the lot for the buses,” Pipe says, pointing to the parking lot behind me where Wolf put a vegetable garden.
“Where is this bar?” Jack growls.
“Well, that’s the only problem…”
“Riggs so help me God—”
“It’s in Staten Island but before you blow your top, hear me out—everyone from Brooklyn migrates to the island, anyway. No one is going to care if our rockers read one borough and we congregate in another. Besides, Blackie already lives in Staten Island, Pipe and Layla just closed on a house there too. The rest of us will have to get an EZ Pass.”
“I’m going to kill this fucking kid,” Jack mutters, rubbing his hands over his face.
“You’re going to thank me before you kill me, I promise. Look, I gotta go. You’ll see, this will be good for the club. In the meantime, I’m going to plan a Grand Opening. Every fucking person from Bay Street to Tottenville is going to know the Satan’s Knights are moving in and they’re all going to want to party with us.”
“Because we’re just a barrel of fun,” Stryker deadpans.
“Speak for yourself buddy,” Deuce argues.
“We’re going to need to discuss this further,” Jack warns.
“Sure thing Daddy-O,” Riggs replies.
“Hang up on him.”
I end the call and along with everyone else seated at the table, I turn to Jack.
“Fuck, I’m exhausted,” he grunts. Drawing in a deep breath, he grabs a toothpick from his pocket and slips it between his lips. “Moving on from that fucking clown,” he starts, turning his attention towards Bas “It’s time for you to fill us in on what the fuck is going on with your dead brother and why you’re looking after his woman and kid.”
I swear if I make it through this meeting, it’ll be a miracle.
Those still exist, right?
Bas begins to share his story with us, revealing him and Mac were together back in the day. However, he wasn’t sitting at our table asking for protection because once upon a time he got his dick wet with his brother’s piece. Nah, that woman was in a shit ton of trouble and so was her kid.
Bas comes from a long line of bikers and back in his hometown, his brother was murdered by the cartel. Bas didn’t have time to get the full story while he was in Kentucky. He was too busy packing up Mac and Ryder. All he discovered down there was that his brother had killed the daughter of some drug lord and he retaliated by killing him. According to Bas’ mother, Milly, the cartel isn’t satisfied with Junior’s blood and they’re hunting Mac and the kid too.
“An eye for an eye,” I mutter when he finally finishes speaking. None of this sits right with me and my gut churns with dread.
“Do you know anything about these guys?” Jack questions.
“No, and I haven’t had a chance to do any digging. I wasn’t equipped to take on Mac, much less her son. I don’t know what the fuck to do with them.”
“Well, you knew enough to take them here,” Stryker comments.
“Oh, because this place is like Mr. Roger’s neighborhood,” Deuce mutters sarcastically.
Actually, the land of broken toys seems more fitting. Everyone has a story, one worse than the other. Sighing, I comb my fingers through my hair as Bas continues.
“Considering I’m here and all the intel is probably in Kentucky, I don’t know how long it’s going to take to figure this shit out and nail the cartel. In the meantime, I can’t take them back to my apartment. That’s the last place any kid should call home. Mac is already breathing down my neck, asking me if she needs to enroll the kid in school or get a job and I’m here wondering where the fuck they’re going to sleep tonight.”
“Look, it ain’t much and it needs a good cleaning, but you can stay at my old house,” Pipe suggests. “I haven’t been there since I trashed the joint after Oksana’s death,” he adds. “There might be a family of stray cats living there—”
Leaning back in my chair, I stare across the table at him.
“We cleaned it out after you took off for the woods,” I reveal. “Got rid of everything in the kitchen and packed the rest of Oksana’s things. I wasn’t sure what you wanted to do with her stuff so, I rented a storage unit off Bay Parkway.”
Pausing for a beat, he meets my gaze. The disappointment he’s been harboring since he tossed my ass in the shower fades and is replaced by appreciation. Finally, he jerks his chin in my direction and that’s all it takes to wash away the bad blood between us.
“I appreciate that,” he says before he uncomfortably clears his throat and slices his attention back to Bas. “As I was saying, the place needs a little TLC, but it's yours.”
“I can send Ally in,” Deuce offers. “The girl is bored as fuck since we ran out of walls to hang shit on. I’m afraid she’s going to hang a fucking picture frame from my cock if she doesn’t have something else to decorate.”
“Whoa,” Bas stammers, holding up his hand. “Decorate?”
The poor guy is breaking a sweat.
“You heard the man, he said the house needs some love…Ally will give it love and make it homey.”
“She does have a knack for decorating,” Cobra agrees. “However, you should probably warn him about the throw pillows.”
“Oh, man, you have no idea. I suffocate every time I sit on the couch,” Deuce mutters.
“If you bitches are done talking about linens, maybe you can find your dicks, so we can get back to business,” Jack growls.
Cobra and Deuce stop talking as Pipe leans back and unlatches the key ring from the belt loop of his jeans. Tossing the key onto the table, he flicks it toward Bas, demanding he take it.
“It’ll only be Mac and Ryder staying there,” Bas mutters. “I’m going to be going back to my apartment.”
“You just told us their lives are in danger and your plan is to leave them alone at Pipe’s?” Linc questions.
“I was hoping the club would provide protection,” Bas replies, looking back at Jack. “I’m not asking you guys to get involved in this mess. I know the last thing any of you need is a bunch of drug lords sniffing around your territory but while I work on eliminating the threat against Mac and Ryder, I was hoping you’d throw a couple of prospects on them.”