“You all know receipts are down at The Line,” said another of the Reapers, a big man named Gage. “We’ve lost some girls, too. Not that big of a deal, but the loss of customers complicates things. Cops like to watch how many cars come and go. The more traffic we have, the more money we can push through without setting off alarms. Obviously the Callaghans are looking to do the same thing. That’s a problem for all of us.”
Deep raised a hand, and Boonie nodded at him.
“Management just shot down another union request for safety upgrades at the Tess. Not sure how much everyone knows about the situation there, but this is bigger than just our clubs. The Tess provides more than two-thirds of the valley’s income—well, documented income . . .” Several guys laughed at that. Deep continued, “The Callaghans run the national union and it’s pretty obvious by now that they’re poised to take over the mine. We have to shut them out. Otherwise—sooner or later—we’ll have another major accident of some kind. The last one almost took Callup with it. We got a good thing here. Don’t want to lose it.”
The room sobered, because it was true. It might’ve been nearly twenty years ago, but the horror of that fire still hung over the valley. It didn’t matter that I was still a kid in Montana. You couldn’t breathe the air here without feeling the memories press down.
“How confident are you in this kid’s intel?” Hayes asked. “I agree that something needs to be done, both for the valley and to protect The Line. But we’re only going to get one shot. We go in and miss Jamie Callaghan, they’ll tighten things up and we might not get another chance.”
“Puck’s talked to McDonogh in person,” Boonie said. “Tell us your thoughts.”
I considered my words carefully before speaking. Lives hung on what I said next, and the responsibility weighed on me.
“He’s young,” I said finally. “But he’s not stupid. He’s fighting for his life and he knows it. They may not be able to kill him outright, but they’ll turn him into a vegetable and lock him away forever if they can. He knows we’re his best shot for help locally . . . us and the union, but the ties are close enough at this point that you don’t get one without the other. I can’t see any reason for him to lie to us about this. He has more to lose than we do.”
Hayes and Boonie shared a look, and I felt tension tightening around the room. Sure, we’d talk about it some more and vote in the end, but the issue was settled in that instant.
“So tomorrow we fight?” Gage asked. “If that’s the case, I should get my people ready. Don’t want them caught in the cross fire if we can help it.”
“Who all do you have inside?” Boonie asked.
“Bartender,” he said. “Maryse. One waitress, Lisa. Milasy and Renee are dancing—both scheduled for tomorrow afternoon. I know we’ll need intel tomorrow but I want them out of the line of fire. They’ve put themselves on the line for the club in a big way.”
“Let’s send men in early,” Deep said. “Pretend to be customers. Figure out who’s loyal to Callaghan, and who’s just bystanders. We have five or six inside before we make our move, that’ll even the odds quite a bit.”
“Okay,” Hayes said. “Who hasn’t been over there yet?”
Several men raised their hands, including Painter. That surprised me. I shot him a look and he raised a brow, challenging me.
The Prince of Pussy wasn’t getting out quite as much these days . . . interesting.
Hayes pointed to eight men in turn, including my best friend. “We’ll start sending you in around noon, one at a time. Drink slow. Don’t sit together, talk, nothing. If they spot one of you, the others ignore it unless you get a sign, got me? We’ll coordinate from outside using your reports, send a text right before we go in. That work?”
The room filled with grunts of agreement.
“We’ll have those selected stick around for a few, make sure we’ve got it figured out,” Boonie said. “The rest of you can go back out and enjoy some of our hospitality. Some of the local ladies have been working hard to provide you with food and entertainment, so don’t be afraid to take advantage. Anyone needs a place to stay tonight, let me know. We’ll get you fixed up.”
Just like that it was over. I walked out of the room, down the hall, and out into the main room. We’d taken over an old bar a few years back after it went under. Real estate was cheap in the valley and the place made a hell of a clubhouse. We’d fenced in the back with six-foot chain-link topped with razor wire. Throw in a fire pit, music, and Darcy’s flare for smacking down drama? The place was almost perfect.
The only thing missing was Becca.
I passed through the door and nodded at the prospect watching over the bikes, throwing a leg over my Harley. It was time to go grab my woman.
ELEVEN
BECCA
It was nearly nine before Puck knocked at the door. He’d told me he might be a little late, but for some reason around eight I’d become convinced that he’d changed his mind—that this whole thing had been some sort of weird, crazy dream.
Given how unsure I was of things between us, you’d think that would have made me feel better. Instead it felt like a cancer eating at my gut. I wanted him. Bad. Not just in the sack, either. I just liked the thought of his big frame standing in my door, all solid and sexy and mine.
I’d long since finished getting ready and was sitting in front of my Singer when he finally showed up. I’d had a couple drinks by then, because despite the whole “want bad” thing, I was still a little nervous about my first biker party in five years. I decided that uncertainty was a good enough excuse to throw myself at him through the open door. Puck didn’t blink, just caught me and started kissing me, letting me know powerfully and without words that he was happy to see me, too.