“True, but in my defense, I didn’t tell you it was ready to go. You jumped the gun and started it,” he responds, laughing. “Want me to take a look before you fire it up?”
“Nah, I’ve got it,” I say, recalling how we all had a good laugh that day when sparks were flying everywhere and we ran to take cover. Luckily, that’s all it was. “Take a look at the rear wheel. It’s still wobbly as hell.”
“Yeah, I noticed that on the last test ride. Felt like it was about to come off.”
“These old bikes, man, you fix one thing and three more problems show up. Sort of like my fucking life lately,” I mention, thinking about the visit from the police yesterday, asking about a couple of missing gangsters. Dementor is the type of cleanerthat makes a body disappear without a trace, so I wasn’t worried about them finding anything that would tie me to those fuckers.
“Ain’t that the truth. But they’ve got soul, you know? Not like those new models. Sure, they run smooth, but there’s no character.” Buck comments, breaking my thoughts.
“Yeah, you’re right. Can’t beat the classics. Alright, give that engine a try.”
Buck wipes his hands, grinning as the engine sputters to life. For the second time today, I can’t help but smile, satisfied that I managed to fix something. Once we finish cleaning it up and swap out a few more parts, this bike will sell for a solid twenty grand, and we’ve already got a few buyers lined up. I hand it over to Steel for another test ride and head into my office, shutting the door behind me. Even though she sounded a bit down, hearing Ember’s sultry voice makes me want to drop everything and head straight home to her.
Missing her doesn’t begin to describe how being away from her really makes me feel. I crave her touch, her smell. I even miss hearing that goofy ass laugh she has. It’s been a week since I’ve seen her, felt her, and I’m about to lose my shit. The way she moans my name, grinding her pussy against my mouth, as she comes is the sexiest sound in the world. But, when her inner walls grip my dick, while I’m driving into her, that shit makes my fucking head spin.
With this threat hanging over her, it’s taking everything in me not to come clean, hoping she’ll accept this part of my life so I can protect her fully, without holding back. Elijah told me the real story of how Ember’s mother died, while Ember gave me a softer version, crafting little lies to shield herself from the MC life. I can’t begin to understand the pain of losing someone to this world, but I get why she moved to Atlanta and tried to live a normal life. It’s the same thing I’ve worked so hard to give her all these years. Her father’s MC doesn’t have the reach or influenceof the Royal Bastards. They lack the network we’ve built. Ember would thrive by my side here, and the women would welcome her, accepting her as my ol’ lady without hesitation.
The guys decided to hit up Peaches tonight instead of throwing another party at the clubhouse. It’s the strip club we own, and there’s never a night it’s not packed. Atlanta is known for having some of the best strip clubs in the south and always have the hottest girls. This week’s been rough on everyone, but Jameson came through big time. Instead of hiding our product in shipments, he set up a few drug mules at the ports. It’s not the hardest part of the business, but definitely the riskiest. You’ve got to find the right kind of people who are desperate, scared, or dumb enough to do it. They can’t know too much, but they’ve got to trust you completely. One wrong move, and it all falls apart. Control is everything. Make them think they’ve got no other option, but keep them in the dark just enough so they don’t see the full scope of what they’re really doing.
Jameson’s mules know the drill; don’t panic, don’t talk, do your business, and get the fuck out of there. From what I’ve gathered, they’re only called in when the DEA is breathing down our necks. Thanks to Lone Wolf, we had no choice but to go low-key with the shipments for now. We’ve been quietly vetting othergangs, watching how they operate, testing what they can handle. I had to remind them what happened to the last fuckers who crossed me.
It’s going to take about a year to get back to business as usual, and that pisses me off. I glance at Lone Wolf, who looks a little off tonight. Every time he’s around, I feel the urge to knock the shit out of him again. After I told him what Jameson said about ending his life, he knew just how badly he screwed up and swore it wouldn’t happen again.
He's still on my shit list, doing jobs as if he’s a Prospect. Tonight he’s in charge of closing down the club and making sure the girls get home safe.
“I’m tellin’ ya, this place never disappoints. Always a good show,” Renegade, our prospect, says to no one in particular, but we all nod in agreement. Even with clubs like Blue Flame, Onyx, and the infamous, Magic City, our club is filled with patrons every night making it rain with loads of cash.
“Yeah, but the real action’s not on-stage tonight. Have you heard anything about the drug mules getting our product here, Mav?” Hellhound inquires.
“Not yet, but Turbo’s been keeping track of their movements. He said we’ll know more by morning. If everything goes according to plan, we’re looking at a big payday,” I reply. Using my hacker to keep track of this is a waste of resources. It should be Lone Wolf tracking our shipment. Having Jameson step in is a slap in my face and makes me look weak as a leader. Another reason I need to get this shit straight with Ember.
“The DEA’s been all up in our asses like they’re doing a fucking cavity search. We can’t afford another screw up. No shade, Lone. Just stating the truth,” Hellhound interjects.
“I’m not too worried. The drug mules might not be a bad idea from here on out. Most of these street gangs are out for themselves, so it’s bound to happen again even with the bestvetting. That still doesn’t excuse what happened earlier this week,” I comment, staring daggers at Lone. I take notice that he’s been watching one particular girl this evening. I’ll have to ask him about it later.
“Speaking of tightening up, has Elijah called with an update on the Knights?” Steel asks.
“Not yet, but Becks from the Montreal Chapter texted that he spotted a Knight on the outskirts of Tennessee. It’s weird that he’s alone but I’m betting he’s scouting the territory. I told Becks to stay on him and report back to me if he gets anywhere near the border of Georgia.”
“If they know what’s good for them, they won’t start shit on our turf.”
“Yeah, but I’m hoping they do so I can show them what happens when you threaten what’s mine. It’s high time to put the Savage Knights on notice. Elijah’s club don’t have the numbers to intimidate them, but we do and it’s best they know now not to fuck with me.”
“Yeah, I hear you, Mav. You know we’ve got your back no matter what this comes to,” Nightmare declares, reaching over for a fist bump. Steel raises his shot and we clink glasses in a toast. “Brothers for life!”
EIGHT
MAVERICK
Lone Wolf sitsacross from me in the office, talking about a dancer he’s been keeping an eye on at Peaches. He knows the rules; getting involved with any of the women at the club is strictly off-limits. If something went south, it’d be a disaster, and I don’t have time for that kind of mess. Our job is to protect them while they’re on stage and make sure they’re treated with respect. On top of their tips, I make sure they get a proper wage so they can support themselves. Some of them have kids, and the last thing I want is for them to worry about anything while they’re working for me.
Obviously, there are exceptions to some rules, so when Lone asked for a meeting with me, Steel, and Nightmare, I knew there was more going on than he was letting on. Even after his punishment and his promise to get back on track, his head’s been out of the game all week. It’s time to figure out what’s really going on with him and what’s got him so distracted.
“Prez, we got a situation with one of the girls at Peaches. I know we’re not supposed to get involved with the girls, but I had to,” he starts off, obviously torn about what’s going on with herwhile trying to adhere to the club rules. “Bianca, the redhead, has been having trouble with her ex.”
“What kind of trouble?” I inquire, sitting forward in my chair, preparing for whatever it is I’m about to hear.
“Word is, he’s been showing up at the club after hours, causing problems. A couple of the other girls said they’ve seen bruises on her lately. She’s been tryin' to hide it, but it’s pretty obvious.”
