Chaos immediately turned around and headed back out. He returned a minute later and placed the extra chairs at the end nearest the door.
Zeke settled at the opposite end of the table as everyone else took a seat.
Where to fucking start?
He had gone over everything Russo had said over and over in his mind on that long ride back to Shadow Valley, but he hadn’t come up with any answers.
This was the Mafia they were going to have to deal with, not the fucking Cub Scouts.
For a few seconds, he regretted being the goddamn president. Everything fell on his shoulders and at the moment, the weight of it all was about to take him to his knees. Nowhe wasn’t only responsible for this club. Having his woman back in his life, in addition to his son, made him more vulnerable.
He wasn’t liking any of this shit one fucking bit.
But this really hammered home the reason his father built the DAMC compound. It was meant to help keep the women and kids safe.
Unless they could expand the club’s retirement village—and that would cost a fucking fortune—his generation might have to create something similar by using the Dougherty farm.
Plus, he knew most of his generation didn’t want to live in the established compound. While the majority grew up in it, unlike the OGs, none planned on living in it until they fucking died.
Down and dirty ’til deadwas never supposed to mean living a comfortable middle class life in a gated community while driving around on fucking scooters and in golf carts.
Fuck that shit.
Their motto meant they were supposed to live hard, party hard, and take care of “business” using whatever means necessary. Whether that method was legal or not.
But Zeke’s instinct to protect his family had kicked in and he now understood why his father had done what he did.
His gaze slid down to Vi and Reaper at the other end of the table. He explained, “Didn’t wanna repeat this shit twice.” Once would be enough to infuriate him all over again.
“Totally understandable, cuz,” Vi responded. “I’m glad you’re pulling us in on this so we’re prepared.”
While Reaper said nothing, his stony expression said everything.
And right then and there, Zeke realized that fucker wasn’t afraid of shit. If someone needed to be put six feetunder, the man would dig the damn hole and not think twice about it.
If the guy proved himself to be an asset to the club, Zeke would seriously consider patching him in without being a prospect first.
“Whose warehouse was that?” Vi asked. “Who took Ledger?”
“Remember those Sicilian fucks that ‘run’ Pittsburgh?”
Next to him, Rage’s spine snapped straight.
“Holy fuck,” Wheels whispered. “Are you talkin’ about those Mafia motherfuckers? La Cacasomethin’?”
“La Cosa Nostra.” Disbelief filled Vi’s face, though she tried to hide it, then her expression quickly changed to one that clearly agreed with Zeke that they were fucked.
“Yeah, them,” Wheels confirmed.
Zeke nodded. “One and the same. Remember when they were usin’ the Demons to traffic their shit from Mexico to Pittsburgh?”
A few curses circled the table.
“Now that the heat from the feds is long gone, they want us to do it instead?” The disapproval in Zane’s voice couldn’t be more clear.
“They would if we wanted to get involved,” Zeke told everyone.
Chaos shook his head. “Fuck that shit. We ain’t gettin’ in bed with La Cosa Nostra. You saw how they dealt with the Demons when they were double-crossed.”
