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You dumb fucking fool.
“I’ve made some quiet inquiries and discovered the name of Sucre’s heroin connection. They’re willing to discuss providing our first shipment of product in exchange for a load of semiautomatic pistols.”
“Scott.” He said his brother’s name as a warning. “If we trade the guns for drugs, we won’t be able to pay the Russians.” Their gun suppliers would expect cash. No excuses. No exceptions.
Scott nodded and smiled as though they were reading from a script. “It’s what all of you are thinking, right? But the beauty is, we pay the Russians with some of the profits we make on the drugs and use the rest to buy more. In the meantime, I’ve got a guy who can show us how to make our own meth. It’s fucking cheap like you won’t believe. You can do it with cold pills, lye, fertilizer, and some shit we have right here in the clubhouse. If you dumb fuckers can follow the instructions I found on the internet without blowing us up, we can be in business tomorrow.” He poked the tip of his tongue through his toothy smile. “Play some more Devil’s Advocate, K.”
“The Russians are going to be pissed, Scott. Even if we can pay them back—”
“You meanwhenwe can pay them back.”
Scott’s arrogant tone was digging under his skin like the needle of a tattoo gun. “If, when, it doesn’t matter. It’s their money, not ours, to gamble with.”
“Kane is right,” Malcolm boomed. “This is why any move we make must be done with complete discretion. I know most of us don’t socialize outside the MC, but if you do, it’s more important than ever for us to keep club business inside the club.”
“That’s not—”
“All in favor of taking over the cash flow we wrestled from that bastard bottom-feeder?”
A chorus of “ayes” shook the rafters. Kane was poised to vote no, but his father didn’t give him the chance.
“The ayes have it.” Malcolm nodded. “Meeting adjourned.”
Laughing and slapping each other on the back, the men filed out of the room. All but Malcolm and Scott were completely oblivious to his objections.
“You really thought you could push them against my wishes?” He fought the urge to jump at his father’s words behind him. “This is my club, Kane. Or have you forgotten?”
He faced his dad, who wore his club cut, the “President” badge on full display over his heart. The man lived and breathed the MC, and the brothers treated him like a god.
“I haven’t forgotten anything. But it sure seems you have. Like what happened to Kip’s club in Raleigh when he pissed off Sergei. They made him eat his own fucking eyes.”
“Kip was an idiot. He deserved what he got.”
“Yeah, because he was dumb enough to cross the goddamn Russians.”
“No!” Malcolm roared. “Because he was dumb enough to get caught.”
He clenched his fists at his sides. “I’m not willing to bet the lives of my brothers on the hope you’re right.”
His father’s eyes glittered with malice. “Then it’s a good thing it’s not up to you, isn’t it?”
Without another word, he went searching for Scott. He had to try one more time to make him understand.
He didn’t have to look far.
Scott stood in the hallway right outside the chapel door, leaning against the wall. Jeans bunched around his thighs, he leisurely pumped his hips toward the open mouth of the woman on her knees at his feet.
“You need something, K?” he asked, his rhythm never missing a beat.
Charlene looked up, her gaze challenging, as her cheeks hollowed around his brother’s cock.
“Nah.” He shouldered past the spectacle they both designed in an effort to get back at him for their perceived slights. They were wasting their time. It was just another Monday night at the clubhouse. “Knock yourselves out.”
Gritting his teeth, he stepped out the front door and nearly tripped over the prospect lighting up a smoke on the porch. The kid struggled to his feet, an apology falling from his lips.
He waved the guy off and kept heading to his ride. “Not your fault, man. Forget about it.” He stopped when the prospect put his hand on his shoulder.
“Kane?” The man shrank back when he turned to face him but found his nerve after a moment’s pause. “In the chapel, Malcolm said something I don’t understand.”
