“I can stay if you’re not.”
I’m about to ask where he’s going, then I remember he needs to go to the club. Every day but Sundays.
“No, you should go. Really, I’m fine. And I need to apologize to Kelsey. Hopefully I didn’t terrify her.”
Grizz laughs, standing up straight and offering me his hand. When we walk out of the kitchen, Tommy and Kelsey are sitting on the couch, watching something on the giant TV.
“If you guys are good, I’m going to head out,” Grizz says.
“We’re fine. About to watch a movie, if you want to join us?” Tommy says.
“I’d love to.”
Grizz kisses the top of my head, and I go into the living room, getting comfortable on the recliner. Grizz walks down the hall but returns a moment later with the blanket. My blanket. He kisses my head again and then he’s out the door.
He’s all I think about the whole day.
Chapter Fifteen
Grizz
As the Enforcer, it’s my duty to make sure shit is going smoothly. We all take our positions pretty seriously, but over the years, we’ve all done a little of this and a little of that. Well, except for Snapper. That guy ain’t letting anyone touch his stuff or try to handle anything he’s responsible for. But we all make sure things run smoothly at the border, it’s just that when it comes down to it, it’s my task to handle.
Before meeting Anastacia, I’d already had days when I didn’t want to be here, and those days usually consisted of drowning myself in alcohol to forget where I was or what I was doing. Now, all I want is to be home with her.
I still care about this club and what we do. Keeping this town safe is important—it means something to me. It’s what we’ve done since our grandfathers, and we’re part of this club becausewe believe in their vision too. So yeah, I want to be here, but I want to be with Anastacia more.
Still, I have shit to do and I’m going to do it. We pay guys a good amount of money to watch the border, and if they aren’t doing what they’re supposed to, then they have to go. We can’t risk unmanned property, not when shit has been so crazy with the Iron Runners.
They’ve been mad for years that they don’t have control over this town and the “good border.” Of course there are borders along a lot of the state, but most of it is hard to get to. Like really hard and not worth it to use because it’s too far through dense woods.
Because we have control, we have a good deal with the guys on the other side and it’s how we get all the shit we do to trade and send out, which is what makes us all our money. A lot of it is stupid shit like cigarettes, car parts, tech parts, and of course, snacks. We do deal with some drugs, but not illegal shit. Just medical shit people need and can’t afford because insurance sucks. So yeah, we’re out here doing some Robin Hood shit. It’s convenient, and since we’ve been doing it for so long, it runs smoothly.
Tank and Ghost are the guys who handle all that shit, making sure meetings are happening, while Snapper gets all the invoices and receipts and tracks that shit. He’s always got his laptop around, putting stuff into his color-coordinated spreadsheets.
Everything in this club was set up by our grandfathers and solidified by our fathers. All of this should be easy as pie, but once the last of our fathers died and Coyote took over, well, it’s been messy as fuck.
I watch what’s going on; I see it all, but I try to keep my distance. I don’t want to get caught up in all the arguing and the bullshit. Someone has to be the peacekeeper, and even though I am going against Prez right now and would side with Shark andSnapper if shit went down, I don’t want it to happen. I just want this club to run how it’s supposed to, and we all agreed to give Coyote that chance. It’s only been a few months. Maybe he’s just trying to figure shit out. The guy’s never run a club before. He’s learning. We should be patient.
When I come upon Jim’s spot, it takes me twenty minutes to find him. We must have kept missing each other while walking around. These guys don’t stand in one spot and wait for shit to find them. They’re supposed to walk around, checking things out—patrol. Which is why I wanted to look into this and not just assume someone is taking off when they’re not supposed to. The guys aresupposedto move around; but they’re not supposed to leave.
“I knew I heard someone walking around,” Jim says, lowering his gun.
We don’t like guns, but sometimes they’re necessary.
“You caught me. Good job.” I smile, but he doesn’t return it.
“I thought you’d be back earlier in the day. You could get yourself shot showing up in this lighting.” He points upward, at the darkening sky that’s difficult to make out through the dense trees.
“Nah, I trust you guys to not shoot me.”
He huffs out a laugh. “Maybe me, but some of these newbies don’t know which end the bullet comes out of.”
“That sounds like athemproblem.”
“I got the info you need,” he says, stopping in front of me. I shove my hands into my pockets and wait. “Guy at U has been meeting his girlfriend for a late-night fuck.”
My jaw drops. “You fucking kidding me?”
