Transport, especially when you don’t ask questions, can bring in big bucks. The work is dangerous as fuck, though.
The small arms deals we do, usually to people who are preparing to defend their way of life, right or wrong when the money spends the same, don’t really pay the bills. Probably because Jackal made the rule early on that you could have ascrew a little loose, but if you had lost them completely? And you have darkness in you? Fuck no, we don’t sell to those people.
That’s how your shit winds up on the six o’clock news involving FBI raids and shit. We have enough going on in our own backwoods.
Scratch’s family has been in those woods for generations, even before the club, making moonshine. When the state legalized it, we monetized it. Freak still runs the business along with his boys. They’ll still head out to the woods sometimes to use the original still, even though we’ve modernized the fuck out of the process.
Freak insists there’s magic out in those woods. I think he just lives up to his road name.
Then there’s the Coyote Man legend.
“It’s gonna look brand new by the time I’m done with it,” Sidewinder mutters out of the side of his mouth.
“That guy is going to have a fucking aneurysm before the car is done. He’s so far up his own ass about making his daughter’s dream come true,” I grumble.
Sidewinder smirks as he sits back in his chair like he doesn’t have a care in the world. I know better and he’s going to come to me one day begging me to take over for him. There is no way I would ever agree to something like that. He’s always been better with the customers.
Well, except for the pretty women who occasionally roll through.
“We have a run coming up. I’ll be taking point and I want Sidewinder, Playboy, and Wrecker with me.” Ryker’s voice pulls my attention back to him and he gives me a chin liftin acknowledgement at me holding down the fort. “We’ll talk details soon.”
There are grumbles and nods around the table. Everyone is ready to be done with this meeting. I’m pretty fucking sure I hear a beer calling my name.
“Fine, fuckers,” Ryker chuckles, “get out of here.”
Ryker is up and moving toward the door faster than he normally is, and today it’s Playboy hanging back. When I narrow my eyes at him, he gives me a sheepish grin like he’s hiding something. Which isn’t like him.
He lives with everything he does and thinks out there. Judge if you want, but he doesn’t hide shit. And he sure as fuck isn’t ashamed of anything he does, says, or thinks.
It gets his ass in trouble from time to time that’s for damn sure.
“What?” He sounds defensive as fuck while his eyes dart away from me.
I stand and stretch. “Why aren’t you the first out the door looking for pussy like normal?”
He rolls his eyes and Sidewinder hangs back at the door with the rest of the brothers heading out the door and not looking back. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, brother,” he tries to deflect. But I’m not hearing that shit and stare him down. “Fuck off, VP,” he snarls.
Yeah, I wait his ass out. It’s not like I have pussy waiting for me; at least none I’m interested in fucking. It’s a fucking shame, but here we are.
“It’s not a big deal, but Lola keeps trying to get on my dick and I’m just not interested,” every word is filled with regret because I’m making him spill what’s going on.
“Is she a problem? Like can she not respect being told no?” I straighten up as I ask the question because that shit won’t work for me if that is what is going on.
No means no, and all that shit. And you better fucking believe it’s not just women who can say no. We’re equal opportunity around here when it comes to certain shit and this qualifies.
“Nothing like that,” he sighs, “I just don’t feel it.” He wiggles his eyebrows at me and I flip him off. He shrugs. “I’m just not interested in sticking my dick in Lola, but she wants me. Bad.”
“Don’t know what to tell you about that problem.” I’m not even trying to be helpful, but the scowl on Playboy’s face is worth it and I bark out a laugh. “I don’t know man,” I scratch the underside of my jaw, feeling the stubble there, “don’t fuck her then.”
“Very fucking helpful,” he deadpans.
Before I can lay any more sage advice on the man, he’s out the door, giving Sidewinder a little shove when my best friend smirks. Yeah, he can be a real dick when he wants to be.
When Playboy is gone, Sidewinder shoots me a look and we start cracking up. “Never heard him complain about a woman wanting on his dick before,” he chuckles.
I nod and slap his shoulder as we walk out of church. “There’s a first time for everything, brother.”
When we get to the bar, Scratch’s little brother, Bolt, is there already and hands us two beers. He’ll be prospecting soon enough, but he does odd jobs around the clubhouse for cashright now. Poor kid, he got his road name at two and hasn’t been able to shake it.