“Yeah, the shop owner mixed him up with someone else. I’ll take care of it.”
“If it was a mix up, then why do you have to pay to bail him out? My dad is on his way to bail him out, but if it was a mix up, won’t the police just release him?”
Slay stiffened as if realizing his blunder.
“Don’t lie to me. Tell me the truth, that’s all I ask.” Now I was the one trying to read him. The situation with my brother had to be bad. Why else would Slay lie?
“There are things I can’t tell you. All you need to know is your brother is going to be released, and his record will be clean.”
“Great, so you’re keeping information from me. Thanks.” I opened my car door. Why would I expect the truth from him?
“Cass, I can’t give you more.” He reached for my elbow, but I pulled away before he could stop me.
“No worries. I expect this from you.” I got into my car and tried to shut the door, but he held it open.
“It’s club business. I’m sorry.”
We stared at each other for a long beat. My pulse pounded in my ears, emotion building in my chest. I hated that I believed him. Still, if he wasn’t in the MC we wouldn’t be in this situation to begin with.
“Please let go of my door.” I needed to get away from him. Also, I needed to call my dad to let him know he didn’t have to come to San Diablo after all.
He released it and stepped back. His jaw twitched as his piercing blue eyes bore through me. I felt his frustration in my core like when I’d reject him after he had tried to convince me to give him another chance.
This was how we’d been for more than a decade.
I didn’t see us ever changing.
2
Slay
Deputy Mitchell counted the ten grand I’d put in an envelope. Steve stood nervously beside me. It seemed Cassandra’s younger brother had been targeted by an unknown player in our territory. And my informant, Deputy Mitchell, had intervened on the club’s behalf… For a price, of course.
“Who’s shit list is the Kings on now?” Mitchell asked.
“Your guess is as good as mine.” We could be on any number of shit lists. Over the years, we had taken business away from the Bratva, Mafia, Cartel, and the Irish.
I was confident it wasn’t small-time gangbangers. They weren’t stupid and were usually doped up on the pain meds they sold.
“What’s it been? A year since I was cleaning up that fire shit with the Mafia dude?”
“Something like that.” The deputy annoyed the crap out of me, but thus far, he’d been valuable to the club—for a price.
“Well, when you find out who’s trying to move into the Kings’ territory, drop me a text. We need to know if there’s going to be a war.” Deputy Mitchell put the cash in his pocket.
“Will do.” I nodded and put my hand on Steve’s back to leave. In and out was how I rolled with these exchanges. I had no time for chitchat with law enforcement.
Even though Mitchell was my informant, I didn’t trust him like most people. In my line of work, I’d found out fast that I couldn’t trust anyone other than my president and club brothers.
“Oh, and Slay…” Mitchell muttered in a mysterious tone.
I stopped without turning around.
“There’s been some noise about Russians in town. Better watch your back.”
Fuck. I resumed my steps, pushing Steve to go in front of me.
“Did he mean Bratva?” Steve asked in a low voice. “Why would they be in town?”
