very foolish mistake when I’d been facing jail.
Now, he was no longer a professor but ran a cleaning business with Monique, and I took advantage of his contacts, new and old, for the Sinners’ purposes.
Sometimes, it wasn’t what you knew, but who.
Just in this instance, with both my know-how and contacts, it was both.
“Old friend, where you’re concerned, recycling was never an issue.”
I outright grinned at that, then asked, “Seriously though, if you need more, I’ll tell the Prez.”
Kirill shrugged. “It isn’t the cost of the items, per se—”
“It’s making sure the procurement stays under the radar. I get it.”
He rubbed his chin. “You making a meth lab?”
I snorted. “What about the shit I asked you to purchase screams meth production? You’ve been retired too long if you don’t remember how to make meth.”
“Usually the body count is this high when drugs are involved.”
“Don’t ask, don’t tell,” was all I said. “Kirill, I don’t want you getting involved in this crap.”
He tutted. “It was only a heart scare.”
“When it’s to do with the heart, you need to take notice,” I retorted. “And it has nothing to do with that. If Monique knew I was asking this much of you, she’d give me crap.”
His smile turned fond. “True.” It faded. “Are you in trouble?”
“No. Not personally, anyway. The club… well, that’s different. But there’s nothing for you to worry about. War isn’t coming to West Orange. I’d warn you if it was.”
A hand clapped on the side of the truck door, prompting Kirill to grunt.
“I’ve burned the last supplier. If you need more, then you need to wait or I’ll need more cash.”
“Thanks, Kir.”
He shrugged. “More than welcome. Don’t be a stranger. Monique misses you. She often complains about how close you are and how rarely she sees you.”
I pulled a face. “I’m a Sinner. I don’t want to bring any trouble to your door.”
“That’s much appreciated, son, but have you ever thought about taking off the vest and driving to us?” was his dry answer. “I know you’re not glued to your hog.”
I grimaced. “I mostly ride in the club’s cages.” More’s the pity, but it was the nature of my job—I had to haul a lot of heavy shit around.
“Well, then,” he grumbled, clucking his tongue.
I laughed then pointed to my throat, as well as my wrists and hands. “You saying I wouldn’t stick out like a sore thumb in your neighborhood even if I turned up in a Calvin Klein suit?”
His eyes were twinkling as he jumped out of the truck. “Maybe. I’m sure you know enough women who can lend you some foundation.”
“Christ,” I rumbled. “You want me to wear a skirt to blend in too?”
“I’d pay to see that,” was all he said, but he laughed as he shut the door. “Stay safe,” he told me, and I heard the warning, and accepted it.
Kirill had always cared, and I genuinely felt shitty for abandoning Monique.
During college, both of them had helped get me through when ramen noodles had started looking like luxury takeout. I’d attended school on a scholarship, but those funds didn’t pay for students to eat like kings.
When the doors to the loading bay opened up again, I rolled out, saluted Kirill in farewell, then as I drove off with the truck a little more unwieldy and harder to steady now there was a couple hundred pounds of weight on the back, I slowed down. Last thing I needed was to get pulled over and for the cops to ask me questions about what I was hauling around…
See, I could tell them I was making soap, but I didn’t exactly look like I was in the business of making crafts from home.
Though the compound was on the outskirts of town, I still had to drive through West Orange itself to reach it. As I pulled up at a red light, I whistled along to a Chainsmokers’ song I had playing low, until I could carry on driving back to the clubhouse.
Jax, surprisingly enough, wasn’t snoozing when I arrived. The creaky gates opened and I trundled in, pausing only for Jax to climb in with me as we both headed up the drive before taking a detour that took us to the other side of the compound.
This was my real place of work, but because the brothers didn’t always need to get rid of bodies, I spent most of my time behind the bar and doing a lot of odd jobs.
Ten years ago, I’d never