Mason doesn’t waste time.
“Church,” he says.
Chairs scrape across the floor as we gather around the long table. Dagger drops into a seat on Mason’s right. Tank leans back in his chair across from him, arms folded.
Blade takes a spot near the end of the table, toothpick still lodged between his teeth.
I stay standing for a second before pulling out a chair.
Mason rests both hands on the table and looks around at all of us.
“Alright,” he says. “Let’s talk about Voss.”
The name hangs in the room for a second.
Riot sets his phone on the table and slides it toward Mason.
“I’ve been digging,” he says. “He’s been running this racket for at least six months. Maybe longer. Small towns mostly. Bars, auto shops, liquor stores. Anywhere that moves cash and doesn’t have the muscle to push back.”
Tank’s jaw tightens. “How many places?”
“That’s the problem,” Riot says. “Hard to say right now. Most of them keep quiet. Pay him and move on.”
Mason nods once.
“Which means we start finding out.”
He looks at Dagger first.
“I want feelers out everywhere,” he says. “Talk to the other clubs. Local businesses. Anyone who might’ve heard something. If somebody’s paying this guy, we need to know.”
Dagger nods. “I’ll start making calls.”
Mason shifts his gaze to Tank.
“You help him. Bars, shops, garages. Anywhere Voss might’ve leaned on somebody.”
Tank grins slightly.
“People talk when you ask the right way.”
“That’s the idea,” Mason says.
He leans back in his chair, thinking for a second.
“We need the full picture before we move,” he continues. “Every business he’s touched. Every guy working for him. Every place he’s operating out of.”
Blade taps the end of his toothpick against the table.
“You think he’s working alone?”
“No,” Mason says immediately. “Nobody runs something like this solo.”
Riot nods toward his phone.
“I’ve got a couple names tied to him already. Nothing solid yet, but there’s a pattern.”
“Good,” Mason says. “Keep digging.”
