Hellion gets up for another beer, offering one to Hawk who takes it with a grunt.
King finally turns his gaze back to his son and cocks his head a little. “That man has walked the line one too many times to have our trust. He might not have betrayed the patch but fuck has he come close. We’d be stupid not to keep an eye on him… especially if Tomi can get it done without having to leave the state or trusting anyone in the Bay’s charter.”
I nod. “Easy done.”
Rue blows out a breath. “You really think he’s dirty? Fuck, even if we find something it’s not as simple as taking out a fucking rat. If we kill him we’d have to face the Twelve. That ain’t shit to take lightly.”
Hellion snorts. “At least it’s not the fucking Family.”
Jesus Christ.
Like we need the added headache of Mounts Bay’s twisted fucking politics. Rats in our club and the Demons fucking stalking us is bad enough, we all heard about what goes down in the Bay and Coldstone isn’t equipped for that kind of warfare.
Rumor has it, the Jackal stepped out on the Twelve and got his fucking head cut off.
He ran the biggest fucking drug empire in the country and even he couldn’t face the rest of the fucking Twelve and come out alive. The Lynx too, she tried to betray the Wolf and got taken out like she was fucking nothing.
After that the Family formed and I’ll be fucked if our club goes against them, if the Boar needs to die we’ll have to approach them for a fucking parlay. Jesus Christ, this is turning into a fucking mess.
Rue slides a beer across the table at me. “One step at a time, brother. First we find the rats, then we burn them out. Whatever it takes.”
I start getting the phones distributed through the club easy enough. King tells the men we’re upgrading everything because of the bump in income over a big arms deal he’s done. A lotta questions about the deal which stops people giving a shit about the new tech.
I keep my head down and my eyes on my fucking computer until something flags. I’m impatient for it but the week goes by with nothing until Friday.
Jameson calls me at midnight.
“I’ve found some good fishing holes down this way, you should book a trip.”
I hold my cursing in.
It’s all a code, something we came up with way back when he took over his family business and started working with us.
Something is up with our shipment.
“Sounds like a plan, man. I’ve been meaning to head out fishing. I’ll pack my shit and head down.”
He lets out a breath and murmurs, “Bring a couple of your friends, make a day of it. You know we’d love to have y’all stay for dinner.”
Fuck me.
A big find then.
I talk bullshit with him for another minute or two to calm his nerves and then hang up, flicking a text to Rue to get his ass moving. There’s no one else I trust like him to back me up and if we’re heading down to Biloxi then I need someone sharp.
I text Speck, too.
Now that King’s decided to have him in the fucking loop about the rat shit a little more I can start giving him bigger shit to do. I don’t really want him off of Angel duty, I need a set of eyes on her, but there’s something still fucking needling me about the two of them laughing and eating together the other night.
I’d never heard her laugh before.
Fuck, I’ve barely seen her smile.
I meet them both in the parking lot, armed to the teeth and ready to spill blood for our club, the joking asshole persona of Speck’s has simmered right down.
It’s been a while since I saw the real Callaghan in him.
It’s clear as hell now.
The drive down to Biloxi is a long one but my hog eats up the road like it’s fucking nothing. I take the lead and make Speck take the rear, Rue in the middle like he someday will be when he steps up as the Prez. He hates that shit, never wants to be protected, but he knows better than to argue with me about it.
It’s protocol for a reason and there’s been a target on his back from the second he took his first breath, it’ll be there until his last.
We get to his place and park up behind his place where the hogs aren’t visible from the road. We all strip out of our cuts and pack them away in the saddlebags on our motorcycles. We’re extra fucking careful about this place. There’s a reason we don’t go down for the real shit we do.
Jameson meets us out in the front of his house, carrying beers with a grin on his face. “How was the ride?”
Speck grins and shoots shit with him for a minute while Rue discretely looks around. Nothing’s changed around here except the house has been repainted, and there’s actual fucking flowers in the garden.
A woman’s touch.
“Come in! Elizabeth is out visiting with her parents before the wedding. Her granddaddy is too old to travel.”
I nod and stalk into the house, kicking the dirt off of my boots before I walk in because Keely raised me right.
Outlaw, sure, but I still have fucking manners.
We walk into the kitchen area and he takes a seat.
We have no reason to believe this place is bugged but Jameson saw enough shit serving overseas to be extra fucking careful about shit. A little paranoid some would say but with everything going on in the MC that shit is smart.
“These are the photos I was telling you about. The ones from the fishing trip. A lotta big fish out there.”
I take what he’s handing over and try not to lose my fucking cool.
More kids.
More fucking kids in the shipping containers, only this time they’re alive and sitting on white sacks.
I sift through more of the photos and yep, the sacks are drugs. Someone is using the fucking pipeline and our club to run fucking children and drugs across the country.
“It’s a catch and release thing, I don’t usually have any need for them so I let them go. The freezer here is full enough.”
Right.
He let the kids go. I don’t ask questions about it because I can’t without risking us all if the place really is bugged but I know Jameson and I know he has contacts he can use to get them home safe.
I don’t want to think about the girls that don’t have homes to go to.
Hopefully they’re not selling themselves on the fucking streets.
Rue just barely contains himself. I get it, hearing this shit from Luis was bad enough but to fucking see the evidence? Fuck these rats. Fuck them for using our shit for their own fucking profit instead of starting something for themselves.
And to see kids is fucking disgusting.
Again, I’m an outlaw not a piece of shit.
We stay there long enough for it to look as though we’ve spent the night drinking together, eating a late dinner, and shooting shit. There’s more than enough we can talk about with him that doesn’t put any of us at risk. Speck asks way too many questions about guns and Jameson is good about it.
Rue is quiet.
I get it. This shit is hard knowing that it’s probably Grimm having a hand in trafficking the kids, everything coming back down to Poe’s fucking bloodline. She’s a good kid though. She’s been raised right and protected from his shit.
Rue needs to worry a little less about her last name.
He’ll change it the second he can anyway.
The ride home is twice as long as the ride down there, all of our heads full of shit we wish we didn’t have to think about. I try to figure out what the fuck else I can do to lure these motherfuckers into showing themselves but there’s limits to what I can do.