Ruthless (8 page)

“Thanks, Nic. It's nice to know you have faith in me.”

Nicole followed me into the house and closed the door behind her. “I do, Jess. I know you'll do the right thing. If there's one thing I know about you, it's that.”

I sagged onto the couch. “What am I going to do?”

Nicole slid the deadbolt home with a click, then joined me on the couch. “Like I said. The right thing.”

I groaned. “Why does the right thing have to suck so much?”

“That's the pain of being a grown-up. Or so my mom tells me.”

I grabbed my purse from the ground and dug through it for my cellphone. I knew what I had to do. Didn't make it any easier, though.

“You gonna be okay?”

I looked up from my cellphone screen. Nicole stared back at me, her head tilted and her eyes full of sympathy.

I sighed. “I guess. As long as he stays away. I have little to no willpower apparently when it comes to that man.”

“You know, he didn't strike me as a bad sort per se.”

“Nic, really? Bikers? Drugs? What exactly made you think he's an okay guy?”

“Well, you didn't get his side of the story. You kinda accused, then ran away. He didn't look guilty to me.”

“That's part of his charm. The enigma thing where you can't tell what he's thinking or feeling. And he didn't exactly deny the charge, anyway.”

“I'm just saying—”

“No. Drugs are a deal-breaker. I'm done.” My fingers flew across the screen as I dialed my work extension. After a few rings, Seleste picked up. “Hey, Seleste. Can you do me a favor and get Jerry? Yeah, I'll hold.”

Nicole stood up. “All I'm saying is I don't think you've seen the last of him. He didn't strike me as the quitting type.”

“Doesn't matter—I am. Yes, I'm here, Jerry. I have to report something I saw in the parking garage…”

J
UNE 20

Zag left his bike one block over from the Mother Lode parking garage and walked over. But he knew what he'd find before he even got onto the right level. The squawk of police radios told the story for him. Cursing under his breath at Preacher's stupidity, he stopped his ascent of the stairs one floor below and debated his options.

He didn't need to be spotted by one of the pigs and scooped up as an accomplice to whatever the fuck Preacher had got himself into. But he needed to see for himself. Fuck it. Continuing up the stairs as quietly as possible, he crept to the edge of the stairwell and peered around the corner.

Two squad cars with the lights flashing pinned three bikes in their parking spots. Preacher sat in the back of one of the squad cars while the cops were patting down the other two guys. But once they turned around, Preacher's betrayal shone like a neon light. There was no mistaking the Saddletramp logo in the blinking red and blue light. Goddammit! Or the white powder in plastic bags next to the bundles of cash on the hood.

Shaking his head, Zag quietly walked back down the steps. Only when he was clear of the stairwell did he take out his cellphone from his jacket pocket to make a call.

“Reb, we've got a problem.”

A few hours later, Zag waited with his back up against the wall outside of the True Brothers' clubhouse. Deep in the industrial district of Reno, the clubhouse had been the go-to place for Zag all of his adult life. Between the meeting room, bar, and bedrooms, he'd racked up more hours here than any other place, ever. It was home. Plus the location made it the perfect area for impromptu bike shows and burnouts. Their neighbors couldn't give a flying fuck, since the bikers usually didn't have meetings during “business hours.”

Unlike today. Today's emergency meeting hadn't given most of the members much notice. Like his buddy Bumper. He'd been trying for hours to get Bumper on the phone to warn him about what was about to go down, but Bump hadn't answered. He only hoped Bumper got the text about the unscheduled meeting and showed up tonight.

This shit was gonna suck hard.

Zag jerked his head in greeting as a few members filed past him and into the building. He could only wait a few more minutes before he had to get inside. He couldn't stand out here forever. As a board member, he had to be at every meeting.

But apparently he'd waited just long enough.

The telltale roar of Bumper's motorcycle approached. Bumper pulled through the open barbed wire gate into the lot and reversed into a spot. Of course, being Bump, he didn't stop until he bounced his rear tire off the curb.

Zag just shook his head.

Finally, Bump killed the engine and jumped off his bike. He crashed into Zag and tried to cover his lack of grace with a one-armed hug.

“Hey, man, what's up?” Zag took a step back from his friend. If Bump was going to trip over his own feet—again—Zag didn't want to be caught in the crossfire.

“You tell me, you're the board member. Why'd Reb call a meeting? We already had one this month.”

Zag jerked his head to the side, then walked to the edge of the parking lot farthest from the front door and waited for Bump to catch up. “Yeah, well, things have gone kinda tits-up.”

“No shit? Who's the fuckup this time?”

“Preacher.”

Zag didn't really need to say anything else. Although Preach had been a long-serving member of the club—hell, he was one of the few recruits who'd been in the trenches with their president, Rebel, back in the day—things hadn't been going well for Preacher for a while. This would make his second felony arrest.

“Fuck!” Bumper kicked his boot at a fence post, leaving a black smear behind.

Zag jerked his chin in a nod. He'd known the news wouldn't be welcome for most of the members. Preacher had been an unofficial older brother for most of the guys—the one they'd gone to for advice on women and True Brothers. But he knew the news would hit Bumper especially hard. Preacher—back when he wasn't all fucked up from drugs—had been Bumper's sponsor, the one who convinced him to join the club. For the longest time they'd been closer than most True Brothers in the club. Until recently. But then Preacher hadn't been exactly close to anyone for the past year or so.

“Dammit.” Bump looked away and rubbed the back of his neck. “I was hoping you were gonna say someone—anyone—else. What did he do?”

“He was arrested. Selling drugs. To Saddletramps.”

“What? No way in hell. He wouldn't be caught within ten feet of a Saddletramp unless he was kicking their asses.”

“He was with them. Selling to them. It's bad, man. I'm sorry.”

Bump shook his head like he wasn't believing what he was hearing. “So are we bailing him out?”

“No, we're meeting tonight to vote on his membership.”

“That's bullshit. What happened to the brotherhood? He gets scooped up, we bail him out. That's what we do. I thought that's why we pay dues every fucking month. How did it go from brothers to kicking him out?”

“Not everyone agrees.” Zag took a breath and debated whether to tell Bump about the talk some of the board members had last week. Technically, it was board info only, but he had to make Bump understand. “There was some discussion after the meeting last week. Some of the guys don't think Preacher is True Brother material anymore. And given the details of his latest arrest—”

“That's a bunch of bullshit,” Bump cut in. “Preacher is a Brother—he's family. You don't vote on family. What the hell are you guys thinking?”

“But with his history plus this latest with the Saddletramps—”

“No. I don't believe it. Not with a fucking Saddletramp. No way.”

“He was with them, Bump. I saw it with my own eyes.”

At the news, Bumper seemed to deflate in front of Zag. The fight went out of him and he kind of sagged. It tore Zag up inside to be the one doing this to his buddy. But better now than in front of all their brothers in the middle of the meeting. Didn't make it any easier, though. Fucking Preacher.

The vice president, Axle, walked around the corner and lifted a hand. “You ready?”

Zag nodded. “I'll see you inside, Bump.”

But Bump might as well have been on another planet. Not sure how to comfort his buddy, Zag smacked him on the shoulder as he walked away.

Axle followed and tipped his head in Bump's direction. “He coming?”

“I think he just needs a sec.” Zag pulled the back door open.

“Don't we all. I still can't fucking believe it. Preacher and Saddletramps. What the hell was he thinking?”

Rebel, the club's president, was slouching against the meeting room door, his usual stoic expression replaced with a scowl. “He wasn't thinking. That fucker is so mixed up in drugs and booze, he don't know which way is up.” Reb looked over at Zag and inclined his head. “You tell Bumper?”

Zag nodded. And didn't need to say anything more—Reb knew how hard the news would hit Bump.

“Christ. Let's give him a minute and get a drink.”

Rebel led them to the bar where most of the guys congregated before and after meetings. Tonight's bartender, Stitch, poured Zag his usual shot of whiskey without asking. But when the shot landed in front of him, Zag wasn't interested. He twisted the glass in his hand and listened with half an ear while the group around him traded war stories. Some were scaring prospects with tales about past battles, others talking about Preacher—apparently the news was out already—but the group around him was talking about the one thing Zag would rather be thinking about: women.

“You would not believe the set on this chick.” Axle held his hands out in front of his chest in an impressive show of make-believe cleavage.

“I swear to God the tits get bigger every fucking time he tells this story,” Reb said.

“Nah, they
were
this big. I'm telling you. You wouldn't believe them unless you saw for yourself,” Axle argued.

“You're so full of shit, man.” Reb slung an arm around Axle's shoulders and held him in a playful chokehold. “I say we call this fucker's bluff. You two met up last weekend at the Mineshaft?”

Axle's eyes bugged out slightly as he nodded.

“I say after the meeting we go to the Shaft. If it was as orgasmic as you say, she's probably already there trolling for round two.”

“Hell yeah,” Stitch tossed in, holding up his glass of whiskey and soda. “I could use a little T and A to go with my Seven and Seven.”

Zag just shook his head. His mind was on a curvy, doe-eyed blonde.
Jessica
. How she could even think he'd be tangled up in Preacher's bullshit was ridiculous. He had to set a few things straight with her.

And then, of course, he wouldn't mind some T and A action afterward. God, that woman had him more tied up than any other. The combination of sex and sweet was like nothing he'd ever had before. He couldn't wait to hear that little sound she made deep in her throat right before—

“You guys ready to head in?” Reb slapped a hand on Zag's back, bringing him out of his daydream.

Zag flinched and hoped like hell no one noticed the little problem south of his belt. But apparently everyone's attention was fixed somewhere behind him. He turned to see Bumper standing in the club's doorway, his expression carefully blank. Zag lifted his chin at his buddy, but Bump didn't return the acknowledgement.

Zag's jaw clenched as he turned back to Reb. “Let's get the meeting started.”

He joined the group streaming into the club's meeting room and took a seat at the front with the rest of the board members.

Reb stood at the podium and addressed the club. “I think most of you know why we're here tonight, but I'll recap for those of you who've missed the latest. Earlier today, Preacher was arrested for distribution with the intent to sell. At the time of his arrest, he was in the company of two members of the Truckee Saddletramps MC.”

A general grumble rose up from the crowd. The Truckee Tramps were the enemies of the Brothers. To even see them in True Brothers' territory without reporting it was a punishable offense, but to be arrested with Tramps for any reason other than beating the shit out of them was unheard of.

Axle stood up. “I make a motion to kick Preacher the hell out of the club.”

“I say we send someone inside to kick his ass,” someone in the group yelled.

Although he was across the room, Zag could see Bumper vibrating. A muscle in Bumper's jaw flexed, then he stood up. “I move that we wait until he's out and can face the charges himself.”

“Bullshit,” Stitch yelled out. “I don't need to hear his side of it. He was with a bunch of fucking Tramps. End of story.”

Bumper shook his head. “Preacher still has the right to stand up in front of us against these charges. He's our brother, we owe him that much.”

“He still owes me four hundred dollars. I don't owe that fucker anything,” a guy named Tank grumbled.

“He owes me three,” another yelled.

“Me too,” someone else said.

Reb slammed his fist on the podium. “All right, everyone calm the fuck down. Normally we'd wait to hear Preacher's side of the story before entertaining a vote, but in this case there is no defense. One of our own witnessed Preacher's arrest.”

Zag stood up and looked directly at Bumper. “A few hours ago, my woman saw Preacher in the parking lot of the Mother Lode with Baggies full of white shit and talking to two Saddletramps. By the time I got there, the pigs were already on the scene and Preacher was in the backseat of a cruiser. A pile of drugs and money was on the hood and they were patting down the two Saddletramps. Whatever the hell Preacher has gotten himself into ain't Brother MC approved, especially with Tramps involved. I saw it with my own eyes.”

As the club's sergeant at arms, Zag was responsible for the safety and security of the club. He had taken an oath to ensure that the rules of the club weren't violated. And hanging with Tramps fucking violated more than a few of them.

“If there are no further objections—” Reb broke off and looked Bumper's way. Bump shook his head. Reb turned back to the group and waited a beat before continuing. “We'll vote on Preacher's expulsion from the club. All those in favor?”

A resounding “aye” echoed through the room, Zag's voice included as he sat down. But Bumper said nothing.

“All opposed?”

Nothing. For a group of rough and rowdy bikers, the complete silence was atypical.

Bump still said nothing.

“The motion passes. Zag will collect Preacher's patches as soon as he surfaces.”

Zag crossed his arms over his chest and nodded tightly. Another one of his sterling duties as SAA for the club. Of course, how he collected the patches was completely up to him.

“That was the sole purpose for today's meeting, so unless anyone has anything else…”

Zag stood up again. “I move to claim Jessica Miller as my old lady.”

Reb turned to him with wide eyes. Zag could see the what-the-fuck questions circling in his mentor's head, but Reb gave him all due respect and said nothing. Zag knew there'd be questions later.

Reb faced the group. “Any objections?”

The guys shrugged or shook their heads.

“Motion passed. One Jessica Miller is now recognized as Zag's old lady with all the respect and protection due to her.” Reb paused for a second, then shook his head. “Anything else?”

The guys grumbled and fidgeted in their chairs. The bar was calling and the guys clearly wanted to get their drink on.

“Next meeting is July first. Dismissed.”

Most of the guys got up and headed toward the bar. But Bump sat frozen in his chair. Zag doubted his buddy had heard anything more after they'd voted to expel Preacher. Fuck. He had to do something. He headed over to his friend, but Reb's bark had him freezing three steps later.