“Shit! You mean the cartel's slipped that far north without hitting us in Redding first?” Serial pulled out a cigarette and took a long drag.
“No. Right now, there's no proof it was the Mexicans at all,” Fang said, leveling his eyes on me again. “The Devils got a much stronger presence on our northern front. They've been coming through our territory for months, hauling shit to Canada, paying us their toll as agreed. All part of the truce I was a goddamned fool to sign.”
My head started to spin. I had to grip the table's edge just to stay focused, before that asshole sucked me into the black hell waiting in his eyes.
Fuck. War with the Devils meant one more thing for me to worry about when it involved my own fucking sister and her Prairie Pussy husband.
“Prez, we owe it to the club to find out what's going on before we do anything,” I spoke up. “Seems like the perfect kick in the nuts from the cartel. Hit us somewhere we least expect...make us think it was the Prairie Pussies...fuck everything to pieces up north when we need every guy fighting them in the south.”
Fang bared his teeth. The bear claw smacked the table loudly, and then he stood up and roared. “Sit down and shut the fuck up, you little shit!”
The Prez and I both hit our seats at the same time. Rabid looked at me like I was about to get my head chopped off. Hell, for all I knew, maybe I was. Then again, decapitation would've been a whole lot easier than the Mauler, and they'd definitely use that fucking thing if they wanted me dead.
“Nothing's been decided,” Fang growled. “But I've got my suspicions. The pussies have been expanding West where they don't belong for too fucking long. They know it's the perfect time to hit us right now. Shit, if I were Throttle up in North Dakota, I'd jam it so hard up our asses we'd scream if I knew about the intel your old lady's dead daddy passed to the cartel, Brass.”
I swallowed hard. My throat was bone fucking dry. All the guys in the room looked at me like wolves – everybody except Blackjack and Rabid.
“You know what I think?” Fang said, folding his arms, never taking his eyes off me. “I think we've got more rats biting holes in our ship. Rats on the inside passing shit to the cartel, and possibly our old friends in the Devils too. No, I can't prove anything – yet – but when I do, the Mauler's gonna have a lot of traitor skin to chew on. A hard interrogation and death's the only thing rats deserve. Same fucking thing any asshole in this room's gonna get by holding back critical intel from this day forward. New policy. I'll have Crack write it into the club charter later.”
Sneering, he turned to Blackjack. “Or would you like me to put that up to vote too?”
“Your call, Prez. You know the charter just as well as I do,” Blackjack said, a little hint of sarcasm breaking through. “The national President doesn't need to put all defense decisions up to vote when the club's under imminent threat.”
“Damned straight,” Fang snapped. “I don't know what's going on, but I'm gonna find out. When I do, it'll be time to clean house. We can't fight the cartel head on 'til we stomp the vermin in our own midst. And if it means we've gotta fight the Devils too...well, who am I to hold all the boys back who're jonesing for some Prairie Pussy colors hanging on their walls?”
Several of the rougher men grinned, including Serial. Of course that motherfucker wanted blood. What else could anybody expect from a psycho fuck?
The men who lived on senseless war were never my brothers. They never would be. Fuck, I had to get away from this shit, I had to –
The bear claw slapped the table again. Loudly. I blinked, losing my thoughts.
“Business adjourned. Keep your asses on call. I'm gonna need guys back here once I figure out who's been fucking us, and how we're gonna cut the cartel before they bleed us out.” Fang looked around the room, casting a wide, wicked gaze. “It's all I fucking do. This club's my life, and I'm its life blood.”
He stood up and left first, followed by the Veep. Brothers got up and started to move, more than a couple giving me nasty looks on the way out. I made my way to the door when the room was halfway clear, with Rabid right behind me.
At the bar, Suzy served us some beers, something to take the edge off. I noticed Serial, Splitter, and a couple other ruthless assholes at the other end, and I made damned sure they kept their distance.
How fucked was I? Really? The only thing that hadn't screwed me over today was all the drama keeping their attention on the Prez's vote. Nobody gave me shit yet about Missy not showing up to clean today – or maybe they figured she deserved some slack after what Serial did last night.
“You voted the way I wanted to,” Rabid finally said. “You know that, brother? I just couldn't bring myself to do it...the vote was fucked from the beginning. Nobody has the balls to kick him out and take the cartel on. Nobody!”