"A sample." Ethan's jaw tightens. "You want me to just hand over my product for free?"
"Not for free. Consider it an investment. You give us a sample, we confirm it's quality, and then we come back with cash for a real buy. That's how business works."
I can see Ethan struggling with this. On one hand, giving away product for free goes against every instinct he has. On the other hand, if he wants to expand his market, he needs to prove what he's selling is worth buying.
"This is a one-time thing," Ethan says finally. "You ask for a sample again, and we're done. Understand?"
"Understood," Devil says.
Ethan reaches into his cut and pulls out a small baggie. Even from here, I can see the green inside it. The fentanyl-laced weed that's been poisoning kids all over Laurel Springs.
My hands tighten on my handlebars, but I keep my expression neutral. Can't show any emotion. Can't let them see how much I want to tackle Ethan off his bike and beat the shit out of him for what he's been selling.
Ethan tosses the baggie to Devil, who catches it one-handed. "That's premium product. Top quality. Your buyers are going to love it."
"I'm sure they will." Devil tucks the baggie into his own cut. "We'll be in touch about that buy."
"You do that. But Devil?" Ethan's voice hardens. "Don't ever ask me for free shit again. Next time you want product, you come with cash. Real cash, not promises."
"Won't be a problem."
Ethan nods, then kicks his bike back to life. The two guys with him do the same, and within seconds they're riding away, the sound of their engines fading into the distance.
Lee follows them up the road.
We wait until they're completely gone before any of us move. Then Devil pulls out the baggie and holds it up to the light.
"We got it," he says, and I can hear the satisfaction in his voice. "We've got the fucking evidence."
Lee lets out a breath he's been holding. "Holy shit. I can't believe that actually worked."
"Ethan's greedy," I say. "And greed makes people stupid. He wants to expand his operation so bad he's willing to take risks he shouldn't."
"Which works in our favor." Devil tucks the baggie carefully back into his cut. "We get this to Harrison, he can test it, confirm it's the same stuff that's been showing up all over town. Then we've got probable cause to go after the Rebels hard."
"And the Clarks," I add. "Because there's no way the Rebels are operating without their backing."
"One step at a time." Devil starts his bike. "First we get this tested. Then we figure out our next move."
We ride back toward town in formation, Lee bringing up the rear, after we meet back up with him. My mind is already racing ahead to what comes next. The test results will take a day or two, and then Harrison can start building his case. Warrants, arrests, the whole nine yards.
This is it. This is what I've been working toward for almost four years. Taking down a drug operation, getting poison off the streets, making sure kids like Logan don't have to suffer.
Making sure my mom's story doesn't happen to anyone else.
When we pull into the garage, Storm is waiting. He takes one look at our faces and knows something went down.
"It go okay?" he asks.
"Better than okay," Devil says. "We got what we needed."
Storm nods, not asking for details. That's the thing about the club. People know when to ask questions and when to just trust that shit's being handled.
I pull out my phone and send a quick text to Chief Harrison.
D: Got the sample. Ready when you are.
His response comes almost immediately.
