Crank nodded. “Yeah, took ATF all of an hour to realize something weren’t right and shut it down. Still need to find how they tapped into us though, and to find the actual bug.” Crank drummed his fingers on the table, clearly pissed off. “I’m fucking working on it though,” he added, before Vin could tell him to keep fucking working on it.
“Hardy have anything to say for himself?” I asked, looking to JP and Buddy.
Buddy leaned forward on the table, his tattooed arms flexing as he did. He looked across at Vin, who nodded. “Something’s not sitting right with me about him. Can’t put my finger on it, but I’m not buying what he’s selling.”
“And what’s he selling?” Crank asked with a scowl.
Crank had never really liked Hardy, though a few years back he’d helped him into the club and into his first club fight. He owed him a lot, but just like Buddy, something had never felt right about the man. Can’t say I blamed him. For me it had been one of my first run-ins with the national president that had left a bad taste in my mouth, a simple misunderstanding that had blown up and landed a man in the ground and Hardy gloating over the body while his young sons and old lady stood and watched. That wouldn’t have been as bad, but it was the lesson he told his sons and wife he was teaching them afterwards that really made me dislike the man. He killed a man and used it as a backhanded threat to his own family.
I’d never felt right about the guy after that.
Not that I’d never killed a man. Because I had, many times. But there was always justification. Hardy was more of a “shoot first, ask questions later” type. And that didn’t stick with me. When it was life and death on the line—especially your brothers’ lives—you made sure your facts were right before you started spilling blood.
Plus, something never seemed right about the way he was with his family. How a man treated his wife and kids was his business, but since Hardy’s kids were my age and had grown up in the club, it was hard not to run into them from time to time.
They were good men, definitely good for the club, but Hardy clearly didn’t see it that way and knocked them both down at every step he could. I’d done a couple of jobs over the past year with Jesse, the youngest son, and I liked the guy. He was a cocky daredevil motherfucker, and his loyalty to the club was as solid as they came. Hardy, though, fuck, it was obvious that he hated him and I had no idea why. It seemed neither did anyone else either.
Buddy turned to me and Crank, looking uneasy. I didn’t like the feeling in my gut at what he was going to say next, because something told me things were about to get a whole lot trickier from there on out.
“They lost a couple of shipments—no big deal though, right?” Buddy said with a shrug. “I mean, it fucking sucks, but in the grand scheme of things it’s a drop in the ocean of everything.”
“Right,” I agreed.
“Wrong,” he said, his eyes flaring. “Those lost shipments ended up in ATF hands and then they fuckin’ up and vanished all by themselves.” He scratched a hand across his stubbly chin and shook his head. “How does ATF lose shit like that? They fuckin’ don’t,” he gritted out, implying everything he needed to.
I leaned back in my chair and looked over at Crank. His jaw was twitching over and over as he ground his back teeth together angrily.
“Well fuck,” I finally said. “So what’s Hardy doing about it?”
Buddy let out a bitter laugh. “That’s the other thing. Our brothers got locked up for one of those missing shipments and are serving hard time for it. Cops came down hard on them to set an example, and what’s Hardy doing, you ask? He’s throwing a motherfuckin’ party and planning the next run.”
I scowled and thought of everything Vin had done since our own run had gone so wrong. What would he have done if we’d gotten caught? Sure as shit wouldn’t have been partying and planning the next job. The bad feeling in my gut twisted itself round and round. This was worse than I thought.
“So you see, something stinks,” JP said. “And I’m goin’ to tear that shit right the fuck down.” He looked tired, real damn tired. The kind of tired that had more to do with the mind than with lack of sleep, though there was that too. Dark circles hung heavy under his eyes and he dragged a hand down his face like he was trying to wipe away the tiredness.
Vin noticed it too and sighed. “All right, you two go get some rest. We need to keep looking for Skate and find out how the tap got into my damn clubhouse. I’ll put out some delicate feelers about Hardy. Gonna have to be careful with that shit though. If he gets wind of it he’ll be the one tearingusdown.” He picked up the gavel, ready to slam it down, and JP glared at him.
“Prez, there’s too much shit going on for me to go sleep. I need to get out there looking for Skate. Figure out this shit with Hardy, clean this place of any wires—”
“No, you need to sleep because you’ve been riding for almost twenty-four hours straight, and I can’t have you out on the road like that. This club can’t lose any more men right now or we’ll all end up having to patch over to a new club because there won’t be enough of us left. That what you want?” he shouted.
“No, Prez, but—”
“But nothin’, JP! I’m not your father, or your goddamned mama, so don’t make me act like a fuckin’ parent. If I wanted to be one I woulda got Lex knocked up a long time ago, but I didn’t. So stop answering me back and go get some goddamned sleep, and when you wake up you can help till your little heart’s content.” Vin slammed the gavel down and stood up. “Now get the fuck out of here because I’m sick of staring at your ugly faces.”
We all sat there in shocked silence for a moment as he looked over us all.
“Is my cock hanging out? Because I can’t help but wonder why no one is listening to me and not getting the fuck out of my church!” Vin bellowed, drawing the attention of Mason and Jase.
Crank stood up first. Think he was just about done with the drama for the day; couldn’t really blame him. He was as clean as you could get in this world and had so far refused pain meds for his gunshot wound, but it couldn’t have been easy to do so. And by the way he winced when Vin raised his voice, I was willing to bet his head was hurting just as much as his shoulder. Lucky for him the doc had said it was a clean through-and-through and would heal in no time. No muscle or bone damage. Brother had been lucky. It didn’t always work out that way.
We all began to stand up and file out of the room and back into the clubhouse.
Vin caught my eye as I was leaving, and I stopped and waited for Crank and the others to leave.
“’Sup?” I asked.
“This bitch you’ve been hankering after,” he started.
