“Did you learn anything?” Butch said.
“The fuck does that mean?” Mason said, still hot.
“Did you learn anything?” Butch repeated.
Mason shook his head. I knew that wasn’t true. I didn’t even think Mason remembered it more than anything.
“Jason said something about how we weren’t the only ones being bankrolled,” I said. “I have no idea what it means, but…”
I trailed off as Cole and Butch shared a look. Cole looked to the rest of the Reapers.
“We’ve had our suspicions that things may have gone beyond Springsville,” he said. “This is probably just a coincidence, but in the world of crime, people are damn fucking good at making coincidences happen regularly.”
He sighed.
“No more attacks on the Bandits for now.”
“Fucking bullshit,” Connor growled.
“Yeah, and you wouldn’t let me fucking kill him,” Mason said.
“Listen to him,” Brock said.
“If the Bandits are indeed being bankrolled, then that means we need to focus on recruiting and preparation. Not on striking. You did your part by slashing their tires. But it’s clear they aren’t lying low.”
He looked to me.
“Garrett. I know what you did tonight was a favor to Mason.”
If only.
“But you are the club partier. You can bring something that will get men in here faster than any promise or bike. Women.”
“Oh, they’ll come quick, all right!” I joked.
“So you need to call all the women you can. Tell them to start showing up to the clubhouse more. We’ll host more events. And we’ll get this club growing.”
All the women I can.
That was easy. Diamond alone could bring in a dozen girls.
But for how tonight had gone, for all the drama and bullshit, there was still, somehow, only one that kept coming to mind. There was only one that I, personally, wanted to call.
And somehow, not even a bad date had stopped me from thinking about her.
It was just too bad that nothing, not even the beat down of a suspected Bandit, would allow me to see her seriously again.
Hannah
Three Months Later
The expected light knock came at my door. I made sure I had on my sweater and sweatpants, headed to the door, and opened it. Mason stood there with his cut, jeans, and an undershirt.
“You set the air conditioning on freezing in this place?” he said as he walked in. “I swear, you’re always wanting it to be as cold as possible in here.”
“I’m sorry, we live in a desert; how could you not want it to be a little cool in here?” I said, choosing discretion over the truth.
“Ah, well, hope you don’t mind,” he said. “I brought some wine.”
