“Keep talking!” I shout.
Ronan swallows hard as he stares back at me. I wasn’t sure what he was looking for—remorse? I’ve got none. Was he trying to size me up and call my bluff? That shit wouldn’t happen. I mastered the art of staring a person down and if this motherfucker was waiting for me to blink he’d be waiting a long time. A person’s whole world can change in the blink of an eye and with the number of enemies I have chomping at the bit I know better than to close these fucking eyes—not even for a half a second.
“About a month ago Charlie showed up at my house, he had copies of Brandon’s medical bills and swore he’d help me get rid of them. He told me that the Corrupt Bastards were very much alive and under his thumb, he was rebuilding the club with the help of some guys in pretty high places. He gave me a business card and on the back was a website to a brand new gambling site he created. He offered me a credit of fifty grand,” he explains.
“They don’t have that kind of cash flow,” Pipe interrupts. “Charlie has to be working with someone who has serious dough, someone who doesn’t have a paper trail and easy access if he can rebuild and offer a credit of fifty grand on the strength of a couple of months.”
“Brantley got a call when I was there, before Jones brought me down to the holding cell and he walked outside. Ten minutes later he comes downstairs and releases everyone, we go outside and find you talking to Charlie,” Blackie says, lifting his eyes to mine as he works out the scenario.
“What you getting at Black?”
“Brantley was stalling until Charlie showed up so we would see him and know he was the fuck behind this whole thing,” Blackie explains.
“He was waiting at the station when I pulled up,” I comment, scratching at the scruff lining my jaw.
“It’s bigger than Brantley, maybe he’s got Officer Dickhead in his pocket but he’s got someone giving him cash to rebuild and it ain’t no cop,” Pipe adds.
“Um, guys…” Ronan starts.
“I’m getting too old for this shit and I think we all agree this club has seen enough surprises to last a lifetime. We need to find out who the fuck he’s working with and we need to find out quick,” I order, reaching into my pocket to grab the pack of gum—fucking gum.
I let out a growl, shaking my head as I pop six Chiclets into my mouth.
“Fucking hell,” I sneer. “Riggs get a tap on Charlie’s lines. Pipe, you look into his books and one of you start tailing Brantley,” I boom, pointing between Linc and Deuce, deciding which one I was going to pick. I focus my eyes in on Linc. “You. You stick to the cocksucker like a fly to shit,” I order. “He so much as blows a light I want to know.”
“What if he takes a shit?”
“You tell Blackie,” I reply.
“Hello?” Ronan whines, raising a hand.
“Did anyone tell you to fucking talk?” Riggs barks back at Ronan.
“That motherfucker is too cocky. Whoever he’s working with is a big fucking name,” Blackie says, still mulling it over.
“We’re going to need someone on the inside,” Wolf adds. “Gotta put life inside that clubhouse.”
“Hello! Guys! You’re forgetting something.” Ronan exclaims.
“What’s that?” I huff as I pin him with a glare.
“I need protection from your club,” he demands.
“Now why the fuck would we do that?” Blackie asks, finally leaving his thoughts on the table and joining the land of the living.
“Charlie saw me with you guys which makes me dead meat. I owe him money and he’s going to think I went to you looking to settle my debt,” he rambles.
“Isn’t that what you did?” Blackie asks.
“You’re missing the point! Did you hear me at all? He will kill me!”
“Thank fucking Christ someone will end your miserable existence,” Riggs says, glancing around the table. “Is it wrong to wish I was a Bastard?”
I lean back in my chair, chewing my gum as I size up Ronan. He wants protection, protection he shall get. But, I’m not a generous motherfucker and that shit comes with a price.
“Come here, Ronan,” I coax, crooking my finger as I eye the watch on his wrist. He pushes back his chair and stumbles to his feet, shuffling toward me. “Take off your watch,” I instruct, feeling the eyes of all my men.
He fumbles with the clasp, removing the cheap stainless steel watch from his wrist before he hands it to me. I lift the watch, turn it over and examine it thoroughly before turning my eyes back to Riggs.
“Heads up,” I warn, tossing the watch across the table into his waiting hand. One glance into my fucking eyes and Riggs sees deep into my twisted mind. Knowingly, he turns the watch every which way before shoving it into his pocket.
“I’m on it,” Riggs assures.
“Hey!” Ronan starts.
“You’ll get it back, Riggs is just going to polish it up for you,” I lie. “You want protection from my club, I’ll give that to you but there’s a price.”