Page 111 of Tito

Tito

When I sat on the other side of Baker’s office desk in the past, I felt like I was being interrogated. Now, I felt that I was interrogating him.

“Everyone’s been keeping their distance since the coin shop,” Baker said. “They’re all in agreement that we need to go legit. Everyone except for Cash, that is.”

“What are you going to do?” I asked.

He stroked his beard but didn’t immediately respond.

“I can tell you this much,” I continued. “I’m done. Done, as in done. I won’t do another job. Period.”

“Goose and Ally said the same thing. Reno feels the same way, but he hasn’t come out and said it. You know how he is.” He scratched his beard with the tips of his fingers. “He’ll do whatever the club does.”

“Cash is an idiot,” I said, pushing myself away from the desk. “Why don’t you just tell him—”

“I have.” He stood and walked to the window behind his desk. He peered toward the street, below. “We decided long ago that any changes to the club require a one hundred percent vote. If we don’t have it, changes can’t be made.”

“If we all refuse to do a job, Cash can’t do it on his own.”

He faced me. “He can’t do what we’ve been doing on his own, no. He can, however, commit whatever crimes he wants to, and we’ll all be liable for it. This tattoo on our back means we’ll be convicted right along with him.”

Any conventional motorcycle club would be able to disband. The members would remove their kuttes, turn them in to the president, and then be able to claim they weren’t a part of the MC.

Our MC decided to have our club’s colors tattooed across our backs. Denying membership wasn’t an option.

I began to pace the floor. “If that crazy prick starts knocking off banks to support whatever habits he has, I’m going to choke him out.”

Baker faced me. A worried look was plastered on his face. “I don’t have an answer for this one, Tito. I really don’t.”

“You’ve talked to him?” I asked. “I mean, sat down and talked to him?”

“I have.” He raked his fingers through his hair and gave me a serious look. “I hate to ask, but maybe you should do the same.”

“Me?” I stopped in my tracks. “Why me?”

“You two bicker like an old married couple,” he said. “But he respects you. He always has.”

I let out a sigh of frustration. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt.”

Baker wrung his hands together nervously. “We need to get him on board. Then, we need to spend the rest of our lives praying that the coin shop heist never gets solved. There’s no statute of limitations on murder.”

“No, there’s not,” I said in agreement. “And, if we’re convicted of capital murder, we get the death penalty. It’ll be a miracle if we make it through this.”

My phone buzzed. Expecting a fault from one of the carwashes, I pulled it from my pocket and checked the text message.

This is Ted Gottschalk. Have time for a cup of coffee?

I immediately responded.

Sounds great. When and where?

After agreeing to meet at Marcie’s, I looked up. “That was Reggie’s dad. We’re going to meet for a cup of coffee.”

“When you get done, let’s finish this discussion,” he said. “We need to figure out a time and place to talk to Cash.”

“Probably be best if it’s not something he perceives as an intervention,” I said. “I’ll just talk to him one on one.”

“Good luck.” He smirked. “Because you’re going to need it.”