When I’d first gotten into The Dixie Wardens, Shovel had been the vice president of The Dixie Wardens MC.
He’d been the president’s right hand man, and the one man that was steadily pushing more and more drugs through the small town of Benton until it drew the attention of the CIA as well as ATF.
The CIA wanted an inside man, and I’d been put into place as a prospect. I worked for an entire year to get into that club, and I had to endure torture upon torture in the process.
And I fuckin’ hated every single minute of it.
Mainly because of the man named Shovel and the fact that he thought giving drugs to kids was an okay thing to do.
Not to mention he was the one to push all the other illegal activities.
Which meant I had to do illegal things.
I followed the girl at a safe distance until she was nearly on the road to a nicer subdivision on the outskirts of town.
When she was safely within the confines of said subdivision, I pulled over, shut the bike off once more and pulled out my phone.
“Yeah?” A male voice answered.
“Dixie,” I said. “Is Berry there?”
Dallas Berry was Sawyer’s brother, and I had a feeling that he’d want to know what had just transpired.
“Yeah, him and Kettle are sitting right here,” Dixie said, the music from the bar thumping loudly across the line.
“Tell him his sister needs him. She’s at his house.”
“Got it.”
The phone clicked, signaling the end of the conversation, and I shoved the phone back into my pocket before I started the bike back up.
With one last look into the subdivision where she’d disappeared, I put all thoughts of Sawyer Berry, her captivating blue eyes and her beautiful black hair out of my mind.
Instead, focusing on what was to come.
***
Three hours later I wasn’t in any better of a mood.
In fact, it was worse.
“What do you mean that’s all you can tell me? So he got out of prison, walked down the street, got on a bus, and you haven’t seen him since? What about his parole officer?” I questioned him, pinching the bridge of my nose.
Lynn shrugged.
“Hasn’t seen him either. Neither has his doctor,” Lynn confirmed.
“Fuck!” I yelled, bringing the attention of the bartender to me.
I’d ridden two hours to get to this little hole in the wall bar, and then spent another hour waiting on this fucker to get here. This was really pissing me off.
He’d just shown, and in no uncertain terms, had said that he had no clue where Shovel was.
Nor did he think he could spare any resources on finding him.
“How about this,” I said, leaning back in my chair. “You tell that boss of yours that he’ll help me, or he’ll fuckin’ regret it? Do I make myself clear?”
This would’ve never happened with the old director.
The new one felt he was too good to help out old colleagues.
Even if I wasn’t technically a colleague of his anymore, it didn’t mean that I didn’t do the odd job here and there.
It also didn’t mean that I didn’t still know some people.
Or that I couldn’t get to the fucker.
“He’s not going to like that,” Lynn cautioned.
I shrugged. “I don’t really give a fuck. I can find Shovel myself, of course, but old Crotch Rot isn’t going to like it.”
Lynn rolled his eyes. “Crotch Rot? You’re still calling him that?”
I nodded.
Crotch Rot was really Crotchet. And he didn’t much like being called Crotch Rot. Which was why I did it.
Crotchet didn’t like me, and I made no bones about not liking him either.
He was a selfish prick who only looked out for himself and his own advancement in the company, rather than the men under his wing.
“Just tell him,” I sighed, standing up and paying my bill.
The bartender nodded his thanks for the tip, and Lynn walked with me out to my bike.
I scanned the parking lot, as I did automatically every time I entered a different environment, and straddled my bike.
“I’ll tell him, Silas. But you’re going to have to be careful. He’s not a dick. He won’t care what you did to get where you’re at. He sees it as you being over entitled. Something he’s been spouting off for months,” Lynn offered.
I smiled.
I’d been offered Crotchet’s position more than once. Had I wanted it, I could just go take it from him. And maybe he needed to know just what he was dealing with.
“Fine,” I said, smiling lightly. “I’ll talk to Rosenthal.”
Lynn blinked.
Slowly.
“You’ll… you’ll what?” he stuttered.
I nodded, firm in that decision. I had been considering going over his head.
Maybe I should just go over right now.
Maybe that was the way to take care of this… to nip this thing in the ass before it got to where I could see it going if it got out of hand.
“Yeah, I think I’ll do that. Don’t worry about telling Crotchet a thing.”
Chapter 5
Some days are harder than others. But those other days I usually drown myself in wine, so I’m not quite sure if they’re actually easier or if I’m drunk.
- Fact of Life