we’re not interested in your games. You and your brother have both threatened us.”
“It’s finally hit me,” she said bluntly. “I’m fucked. Marsh is gone and you’ve taken over the club. That part of my life is over and I need to move on. But five hundred bucks isn’t enough. You want the Canadian connection and I have it. All I want is a finder’s fee for putting you in touch with them. You let me smooth the way.”
“We don’t need you to smooth anything.”
“They know me,” she insisted. “They want to make peace with the Reapers. They know our old operation is over and they don’t want you shutting them out of whatever comes next. They just don’t know how to make it happen.”
“Let me guess, you’ll get a finder’s fee from them, too?”
“That’s my business¸ not yours. All you have to do is work with me to set it up. Then I’ll take my cash and leave. I know when I’ve lost.”
“Not interested.”
“Yes, you are,” she insisted. “I can make this happen today. Otherwise it could take months, and that’s a lot of time and energy wasted. We both know I need money, and this the last card I have to play.”
She was right.
Fuck.
“Come to the clubhouse in two hours and we’ll talk to you.”
“How stupid do you think I am? You want me dead.”
“No, I want you gone. Big difference—one is a lot less work for all of us.”
“No fucking way. If this happens, it happens in a neutral place where the Canadians can protect me during the meet,” she said. “It’s not an ambush. Bring as many of your brothers as you want—nobody wants to fight.”
“I’ll talk to the club. We’ll see.”
“Call me back soon, okay? It has to be today. They’ve got product sitting on the U.S. side of the border and nobody to move it.”
“Once again, not my problem.”
“Just tell them about it, okay?”
“We’ll consider it.”
Hanging up the phone, I glanced toward the kitchen. I could hear Tinker talking to someone in there. Probably her dad. I’d text her later, once I had a better sense of what the day looked like.
The air outside was thick and heavy. Nasty. Everything looked sort of yellowed and aged, like an old picture. Pulling out a bandanna, I tied it around my nose and mouth, then swung my leg over my bike. As I rode down the street, the prospect assigned to watch over Tinker that day passed me slowly, and I raised one hand in salute.
There were only a few bikes out at the clubhouse when I pulled up, and no one outside. Given the air quality, I couldn’t blame them. Nobody should be outside in this shit. I parked, then walked inside to find Picnic, Hunter, and Taz.
“I sent the rest of the Coeur d’Alene brothers home,” Pic said when he saw me. “Cord and his men went to join the firefighters—they’re calling for volunteers, and I guess things are getting real damned ugly south of town. Horse and Ruger decided to go with them, too. What’s your plan for the day? I don’t like the look of things outside. London says the smoke’s reached all the way to Coeur d’Alene.”
“I just got off the phone with Talia Jackson,” I told them.
“The bitch who attacked your girl last night?” Taz asked, raising a brow. “I thought you chased her off.”
“She says she’s got the Canadians waiting to meet with us,” I replied.
“Yeah, and I have magic fairies in my wallet,” Hunter said. “Who gives a fuck?”
“What does she want?” Pic asked, frowning at Hunter.
“She told me they’ve got product stashed south of the border that they want to move, but they’re scared to do anything with it now that Marsh is gone. They want to make peace with the Reapers.”
“They should be afraid,” Taz muttered. “They’ve been breaking the rules, and now they’re going to pay. Shitty to be them.”
“What’s her angle?” Pic asked.
“Money,” I said. “Tinker tells me she’s been making threats—this isn’t exactly news—but Talia told me she wants funds to move away. That’s probably true, but odds are still good that she’s lying. Could be an ambush.”
“I agree,” Pic said thoughtfully. “Too bad we don’t have more men here to deal with it. Say we figured out a way to do a meet—you think you could ID the ones you met up in Penticton, right? Might be worth the risk, assuming we can control the contact.”