“That prick isn’t going to help us. He’s just going to lead us around by our dicks,” Diesel gripes from the far end corner of the table. Beside him is Chief’s empty seat. If he were here, he’d know what to do. Having to sit and stare at that vacant space makes it hard to trust in what we’re doing.
We’re back at it about Michael. Especially now that this Italian cocksucker has shown up and targeted my girl, it’s even more important that we get better intel. When we got back to the clubhouse half an hour ago, every one of us looked totally defeated and mentally wiped. We rode around looking for that asshole for a good hour before giving up.
Fort Bragg isn’t big enough to spend any longer than that looking for the guy. He sticks out enough that when we asked local business owners if they’d seen him, a few of them were able to confirm that they had. The last time we had some asshole walking around in a two thousand dollar suit it was when Junior swung into town and tried to kill his sister for information on the club. So far we got Mr. Hill from the hardware store on the look-out. That old man is nosey as fuck and one of the best locals to have on your side if you need anything. Loyal as he is stubborn.
“Anybody think to run this by Lank?” Bear says from beside Diesel. Lank is Thomas Lankershim, a dirty cop who’s had his mouth on our dicks for the better part of a decade. I shake my head and lean forward.
“Lank is out of touch right now, got it?” I say. Diesel and Bear exchange a confused look, and Fish shakes his head. Only Duke seems to fucking get it. “Not to beat a dead horse or nothing, but we got the FBPD inspecting our balls right now over that Darren shit. For some reason, they have witnesses that place our van at the scene.”
“We got it, Knuck,” Wyatt says, using part of my club nickname. “Let that horse die.”
“I’m just saying,” I say, completely unable to let it go. “We have to be more careful about the shit we’re pulling out there. We got too much going on to make mistakes.”
“For the last goddamn time, that was not a mistake,” Duke snaps. I go to open my mouth when Jim slams his gavel down and screams. His face is bright red, veins stick out at his temples, and he is shaking with anger.
“Enough!” he says. “All this bullshit is getting us nowhere. We’re just spinning our wheels. If you assholes don’t have anything else constructive to add, go home and get your dicks sucked.”
Duke scrubs at his face and slams his hand down on the table and says, “Fuck.” I look over the empty chair beside me and find that, for once, Ryan is calm. He’s our resident hothead and the guy most likely to lose his shit or shoot someone. I can only surmise that without Ian at the table, he doesn’t have anyone to keep him in check so he’s having to watch his own ass for once. Maybe I should send Ian off on missions more often if this is how Ryan is without him here to cool him down.
Jim dismisses us. After a few words with Wyatt, I head down the hall to get home to my kid. Ryan rushes up beside me, gives me a hard look, and says, “Can we talk?”
“What about?” I ask, hoping it’s not about his bitch again. The last time we went over the shit with Alex it didn’t go so well, and now is not the time for him to be coming to me about this crap.
“Miss Priss,” Ryan says. I stop dead in my tracks and stare him down. Whatever it is, it better be good. He and I are on thin ice right now, and while I don’t think he’s going to start something, I never can be totally sure with him. Ryan’s always been a loose cannon, but he’s also always looked out for Chey. Back in the day he used to keep an eye on her when Layla would unexpectedly drop her off at the shop while I was busy. He’s barely twenty-five, and only eight years her senior, but in a way he’s like the big brother she never had. Whatever my personal feelings are about the shit with Alex, I could never totally turn my back on a guy who has done right by my kid.
“I might have a lead,” he says and looks around to make sure no one else can hear.
“And why am I just hearing about this now?” I ask.
“Not up for a lecture from the king,” he says and nods in the direction of his father. I lift my chin and raise my brows to let him know that I’m listening. “Guy who deals blow in Mendo, he’s got a cousin who’s hard-up for street cred down in Richmond. The cousin works for Homeland Security. Word is he’s been taking bribes for years, only his clientele dried up with a couple of RICO sweeps. He has access to passenger manifests for pretty much every airport nationally.”
A slow smile spreads on my face. Ryan may be a Grade-A asshole, but he’s slick, that’s for sure. The guy’s formed connections with every kind of loser you can imagine. Sometimes, like now, it pays off. Having access to a motherfucking Homeland Security employee with proper access to passenger manifests is going to come in handy. I almost don’t give a shit what we have to do to get this guy in our pocket. If he proves useful, I’ll even let the guy suck my dick as a thank you present.