That was everyone’s reply to my kid acting like an asshole.
He’s a teenager. That’s what they do.
“Odin’s about to kick his ass.” Dash smirked.
He wasn’t wrong.
As soon as I got home, Reid and I were going to have a Come-to-Jesus. I would put up with a lot of bullshit because kids would be kids; however, I would not tolerateanyonegiving Ma a hard time.
Knocking back the last of his whiskey, Ghost pushed off the bar. “Follow me to my office. There’s something I want to talk to you both about.”
Dash glanced at me and popped a brow, the look on his face askingwhat the fuck.
I shrugged. I was in the dark just as much as he was.
Rolling off the bar, we followed Ghost down the hall to his office.
He moved around his desk and sat, motioning for me to the door. “Close that, would ya?”
Turning, I pushed it closed, then dropped down into the chair across from him.
“So…” Dash said, planting his ass in the chair next to mine.
Ghost steepled his hands under his chin, his eyes hard as he glanced between us. “While you were gone, a problem came to the club’s attention.”
Dash and I shared another look. We’d checked in a half-dozen times over the last three weeks. Maybe more. Nobody had mentioned any problems.
“What problem?” Dash asked carefully, voicing what I was thinking.
Ghost’s expression went dark.
Fuck. That look usually meant he was about to flip a fucking table or shoot someone in the face. “Moody.”
My brows slowly rose as I tried to connect the dots. “As in the President of the Devils Cove chapter?”
Ghost’s nostrils flared. “That’s the fucking one.”
Devils Cove was a small town in SO-CAL about twenty miles North of Tijuana, and the president there was Moody. He was a fucking dickhead. Dash and I had been down there a couple of years ago, and it’d taken everything in me not to knock that fucker on his ass.
Dash’s brows went up as recognition hit. “How’s he fucking up?”
Ghost’s angry eyes narrowed to slits. “The mother fucker got in bed with the fucking Cartel.”
I froze with my beer halfway to my mouth. “O-kay?”
Ghost’s head looked like it was about to explode. “The motherfucker is trafficking kids.”
What. The. Absolute fuck?
I glanced over at Dash, whose eyes were as big as saucers. He couldn’t believe what Ghost had just said either.
The cartel wasn’t the issue. We were 1%ers. We didn’t conform to society’s rules. We did what we wanted, when we wanted, how we wanted.
Someone needs killing? Okay. Gotta break a few laws for the good of the club, no problem. Guns? Drugs? That was business. But we also lived by a code, and that code was crystal fucking clear.
Women and children were off-fucking-limits. That was non-negotiable.
Ghost pounded his fist against the desk, ripping me out of my thoughts. “I want that mother fucker tossed in a deep fucking hole while he’s still breathing.”
