“The Kingsmen was started by the Walker’s years ago and they were never not going to be a part of it. Even after Tank disgraced the whole club and almost got us wiped out. It was a fucking miracle I got voted in over Nytro. But he was younger then. Barely twenty, and common sense prevailed, no one thought he could run the club,” he sighed. “Things change.”
“Tank was the asshole selling off his women?” I asked.
Ranger sucked in a heavy breath, his nose whistling slightly, and he blinked a few times before nodding. “I wasn’t on the council back then, wasn’t aware of the depth of what was going on until it blew up in our faces.”
War found out from King that his maternal grandfather, Tank, the old President of the Kingsmen got them badly in debt and trouble with a Mexican drug cartel. He’d started selling off the club’s women, including his own daughter, Wave and Warren’s mom, to reap back some money.
Dutch, King’s predecessor rescued their mom from that fate and brought her into the Devil’s. If he hadn’t, she would have been sold into sex slavery, by her own father.
Being in the presence of this man, who was a part of the club who had taken Waverley, was making me murderous, despite his denials.
“Thanks for the history lesson but this isn’t helping,” I snapped.
Ranger looked at me again. He nodded slightly. “She’s your woman?”
I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to.
“I’m telling the truth, I don’t have anything to do with them. Nytro shut me out. Total and complete silence. I’ve no more clue what is going on with that club than you do.”
“This is a waste of time,” I told Ballistic, and put my beer down on the window ledge, starting for the door.
“No one gets completely cut off,” Ballistic spoke up. “Least of all a President, while he’s still alive.”
I tilted my head up to the ceiling, I don’t know what the fuck he is hoping to get from this. This sad old man, in a wheelchair was either lying to protect his club or really did know fuck all. I wasn’t about beating up a guy who clearly couldn’t defend himself.
“Barely,” Ranger said turning his head away. Something in the way he said that had me pausing by the door. “Been riding a bike longer than you’ve been alive,” he said to me.
“How did it happen?” Ballistic asked.
“Hit and run, dark, rainy night, all the cliché’s,” Ranger huffed out a laugh. “We never caught up with that driver. No witnesses, police couldn’t find any evidence. It was a non-descript car, I didn’t get a look at it and I was fucked up for months before I got out of the hospital. It was a miracle I fucking survived,” he stared at Ballistic, before looking up at me again. “By the time I got out, Nytro was voted in.”
“You saying one of your own members did this to you?” I asked, eyes wide. Ranger didn’t answer me. But it was clear what he was insinuating.
“What about Mace?” Ballistic asked. “He can’t have been happy about all of this. He hates the Walker’s just as much aswedo. He should have been next in line.”
I figured this Mace guy was their current VP.
Ranger took another long sip of his beer. Again, he held his tongue. Whenever he wanted to get something across to us, he wanted us to figure it out for ourselves, so he wasn’t implicated. Loyal to his club even though they had cast him aside, and, if what he was implying was true, had tried to have him killed.
“Mace is solid. Loyal. To a fault some might say.”
Ballistic nodded. “Thanks for the beer. I didn’t realize how fucked up things were, I’m sorry this is where things are at. You need anything, let us know. You know King will help.”
“Help from a Devil?” he laughed. “Fuck you,Ballistic. I still got my priorities right.”
There was no malice to it so I didn’t say anything back at his insult. From what I’d seen and heard here tonight, there had been no beef with the Kingsmen and Devil’s Chaos when Ranger was Prez. It had all been when the Walkers, first Tank years ago and now Nytro, were running shit that things went sideways between us.
We left the small house, no sign of Marla, and Ballistic grabbed our guns from the box. He checked both of them to make sure they hadn’t been messed with before handing mine back to me.
“What the fuck did we just achieve?” I asked in frustration.
Ballistic walked to his bike and grabbed his helmet. He turned to look at the house and I noticed Marla drawing the blinds shut so we could no longer see inside.
“We just learned that Mace is talking to Ranger.”
“And that helps us how?”
“It means he isn’t following Nytro’s orders,” Ballistic got on his bike. “Which means, he’s a weak link, a way in.”
