Neon returned his look and sank back down in the chair. “Raptor needs to go.”
“I agree,” Maniac added.
Tank clenched his jaw. He felt torn between his loyalty to Raptor and his loyalty to the brotherhood. Raptor had guided him and supported him when Tank was new to the club, and then when he’d decided to go nomad. He hated the position he was in, but Raptor had shirked his presidential responsibilities, making a tough situation even worse.
“We’re all tight with Raptor, and this is fuckin’ hard for all of us.” Maniac fixed his gaze on Tank.
“I know, but Raptor’s got too much on his plate, and he’s letting Hammer do what he wants.”
“He’s abandoning the club.” Ice took out a cigarette and lit it. “So there’s no way he’s that fuckin’ stupid to think we’re gonna let Hammer and the others destroy it.”
“He said the extortion is necessary because the club’s broke.”
Maniac frowned. “That’s fuckin’ bullshit, and I outta know. I’m the damn treasurer.”
A sudden coldness hit at Tank’s core. “Raptor said the club owes the Insurgents on a weed deal and Romano for arms.”
“I arranged to pay off the Insurgents in payments. I set it up with their prez, Panther. He was cool with it.”
“Did Raptor know about it?”
“Fuck yeah. Everything that goes through the club has to get his approval.”
Ice looked pissed. “He lied to you, dude.”
“Seems that way. His boy’s illness has him all fucked-up in the head.”
“Which makes Hammer even more dangerous.” Snake, the club’s enforcer, rose to his feet. “The club’s going down a fucked-up path. Hammer’s got seven solid members backing him, and a few are on the fence.”
“Cougar and Rubble are collecting the protection money on Main Street,” Ice said.
“Do you know which building?”
Ice looked at Maniac. “Which one is it?”
“The one Fitzgerald doesn’t own. The greedy sonofabitch wants to raze the block this building is on and turn it into apartments, shops, and some other shit. The owner of the building doesn’t wanna sell, so Hammer offered our services to force the businesses out.”
“How much are Cougar and Rubble collecting?”
“Fifteen percent of gross every two weeks.”
Tank rubbed his chin as he thought about that. “How many businesses is the club strong-arming?”
Maniac took a moment to think about it. “Twelve or so.”
“Fuck, that’s a lot of dough.”
“Yeah, and there’s no way Hammer’s stopping at that. I heard Cougar talking with Fire the other day about how he was gonna pay a visit to some shopkeepers in Imperial Beach.”
“And Hammer’s too greedy to stop,” Snake pointed out.
“The asshole is taking the club in a direction that’s gonna fuck up the tacit deal we’ve got going with the town council. If that’s done, we’re gonna have the fuckin’ feds breathing down our backs like we did in the old days.” Fester was the only member at the table who’d been around under Skull’s presidency. “It was bad back then. A lot of brothers lost their lives in turf wars, and others had their asses in the joint for years. Hell, some of them are still in there. Raptor turned the club around after his old man stepped down, and I’m fuckin’ crushed to see him throw it to the side.”
“Me too, bro,” Tank said in a low voice. The other members at the table murmured their agreement.
A few moments of silence fell over the group as they contemplated the situation.
Finally, Tank cleared his throat. “I think Raptor’s not in the best headspace to be an active president.” He motioned the waitress for another beer. “Fuck, this is hard to say.”
Snake pushed up from his chair. “We feel your pain, bro, but it’s gotta be said.”
“Yeah, but it’s like I’m—we’re—putting a knife in Raptor’s back.”
“It’s the one he put in our hands, buddy. There’s no way in hell he doesn’t think we’re gonna push him out. He told you all that shit about Hammer because he wanted to rile you up so you’d tell us then we’d do something to save the club.” Snake crossed his arms. “Don’t you see? Raptor’s given us the green light.”
“There’s no fuckin’ way he wants Hammer as president. The club’s in his damn blood, and he used to talk about making it better once his old man was outta the picture,” Fester said. “Snake’s right—Raptor wants us to put the club back to where it should be.”
“Here you go, sweetie,” the busty barmaid chirped as she handed Tank the beer bottle, along
with a folded piece of paper. “Call me, handsome. I can show you a good time.” With a wink, she turned around and walked away, her hips shifting sensually with every step she took.
Snake chuckled. “Looks like you’re gonna get some pussy outta this.”
Shrugging off the comment, Tank picked up the bottle and a took a sip. “You make a good point, Fester. Raptor’s too fuckin’ proud to step down on his own, so he wants us to do it for him. I don’t think he’ll give us any trouble when the time comes.”
“We need to take care of this shit now!” Neon yelled from the far end of the table. “If we wait around, more members are gonna side with Hammer. No fucking way, man!”
Tank muttered under his breath and took another sip of his beer, weighing his answer.
“No, we’re not ready. We can’t act on emotion. This is a mission. We do this just like any other deal we have in the club: cool, detached, and collected are what rules.”
“Tank’s right,” Snake said.
Neon rolled his eyes and propped his feet up on a chair. “Yeah, yeah. I get you.”
“Right now, Raptor’s not stepping down as president. That was damn clear when I went to his house yesterday. He’s distracted and fucking set on not making waves right now because he’s got enough shit to deal with, but he’s not giving complete control to that asshole. Once we get a plan and someone to lead the club, Raptor will step down, I know it. So, are we all in?”
There were shouts of agreement down the length of the table. Everyone was on board to fuck shit up when the time was right. They had a good handful of members on Raptor’s side, and more than half the club was willing to put their asses on the line to keep the club running as it was, and not like it had been during Skull’s regime. Yesterday proved to Tank that the club couldn’t count on Raptor to be the stronger leader he’d once been, so in order to keep some of the members from going over to Hammer’s court, they needed to get an interim president to take over for Raptor as soon as possible. Maybe he’d pay Raptor another visit and feel him out. If Snake was right about him being too proud to admit he couldn’t run the club anymore, then an interim president could be the solution. And if Nick beat the cancer, and Raptor wanted to take his presidential seat again, then all would be good.
“I need to talk to Raptor about appointing someone to take his place for now,” Tank said.