So those had been easy commitments for Dare to make—because he didn’t want to become his father. Ever.
None of that meant the Ravens were squeaky clean, though, because they weren’t. But Dare was more than comfortable with the places where the legality of their actions became blurred or outright crossed the line, because it made the protective work they did possible. Ends justifying means and all that. Sometimes doing a little wrong allowed you to do an even greater good. His version of morality probably seemed like splitting hairs to some, but Dare had lived both lives—he knew there was a difference, a big one. And it mattered a helluva lot.
So, yeah, Dare wasn’t in love with having these guns or needing to sell them. But the club had voted on it, and now they had to deal with that. “I don’t disagree. But now that we have them, I don’t want us holding on to them longer than we have to.” That weight he’d been feeling on his shoulders pushed down on him ever harder as the tension in the room thickened.
Phoenix sat up straight in his seat and jabbed his finger into the table. “I say we should keep a small cache for ourselves. Just in case. And when we sell them, we do it way outside of our own backyard. We don’t want all that heat on the market here. We don’t want it associated with us. And we sure as fuck don’t want it used against us.”
“Amen,” Ike said. “And keep it out of Baltimore while we’re at it. Don’t want it traced back to the original source with the Church Gang either.”
Nods all around, though not all of those nodding looked happy about it.
“You gonna take this on, then, son?” Doc asked Phoenix. “If we gotta have our hands in this, then I agree with your thinking on it. As Road Captain, you’re best positioned to make the contacts and orchestrate the sale. Maybe Caine, too.”
Phoenix’s brown-eyed gaze cut from Doc to Caine and back again. “Count on it. Whatever the club needs me to do. Always.” To look at him, you might think Phoenix was just a laid-back player, joking and rarely serious. But the guy had a deep-seated sense of loyalty and protectiveness as intense as any man Dare knew. When it mattered, he was solid through and through and knew how to get shit done while staying shiny side up. Dare didn’t doubt his word for a minute.
“I’m in,” Caine said.
“Then Phoenix, Caine, and I will stay in touch on this and keep everyone informed,” Dare said. After that, they moved on to less divisive business—this Friday’s escort run, next Friday’s return to racing, and the restoration of open betting. “Anyone have anything else?”
“I had a Hang-Around express his interest in being considered for prospect status. Mike Renner,” Maverick said.
Hang-Arounds were friends of the club who were sizing up whether they were interested in applying for membership while the club evaluated the guy’s likely fit for the club in return. Some guys hung around and never applied. Some hung around and either they or the club realized the fit wasn’t there, especially if they weren’t on board for whatever reason with the club’s mission. Once they were out, they were out. Some guys went on to become prospects and later fully patched members.
Every single man around the table had gone through the latter process. A lot of guys who gravitated toward the Ravens were looking for a place to belong, like maybe they didn’t have a lot of that other places in their lives. Some were hard-core bike enthusiasts looking for like-minded friends. Others were specifically attracted by the Ravens’ protective mission for reasons of their own. It took all types.
“Discussion?” Dare asked. Taking on a new prospect was serious business. It meant they became a lifetime member of the family, could expect the club to have their back, and could be counted on to have their brothers’ backs, too. It also gave them an in on sensitive information and brought them into the fold of the club’s businesses and income streams.
Caine fingered the gauge in his right ear. “We already have two prospects. Is Renner someone we definitely want?” Blake Green and Jeb Fowler were prospects who’d come in at about the same time, nearly six months before.
“He’s given time and money to the club the past few months, and even helped on one of our protection details when we were understaffed on a double-run night,” Phoenix said. “Seems serious, reliable.”
“He can be a sloppy fucking drunk, though,” Bear groused as he tapped his pen against the table. A low rumble of laughter ran around the table, and a few guys shared stories. Given his father’s drinking problem, Dare didn’t have much tolerance for guys who couldn’t handle their liquor, but as club president he only got a vote when there was a tie, which wasn’t often. Didn’t mean he couldn’t work to influence that vote, though, which he did when he needed to.