Road Tripped (Satan's Devils MC Utah #1) - Manda Mellett Page 0,11
clean?” Cowboy suggests.
“And risk everything we’ve built up? We work on secrecy, ‘Boy,” Snatcher retorts. “The more people who know, the more our whole operation is at risk.”
“With the timing, we’ve got to assume what Stormy fuckin’ did exposed us.” I glare at the man I’m talking about knowing I’m risking another outburst. If he comes at me, he’ll end up on the floor with my boot on his neck and him begging for mercy. “Not the hits. The whole ‘we can get into Fort Knox’ business.”
If a man can perfect a smirk while the scowl remains on his face, Stormy manages it. “Well, we can.”
“We’re the club who don’t have any computer experts.” Pip wipes a tired hand over his face. “That’s how we’ve managed to stay under the radar. Tucson’s got Mouse who’s probably the best of the rest. Token is Lost’s man, Keys works for Red and Cad for Demon. Not saying you’re wrong, Swift. But the suggestion we’ve got any hacking ability would be laughed out of court.”
Snatcher frowns. “The other chapters think we’re a joke stuck in the middle of the last century. A myth we perpetuated well. I fuckin’ hated having to keep crawling to Tucson pretending we needed help to track someone down.”
“But you were the best choice to pull wool over their eyes. You’ve sat around this table for years and still don’t know how to turn a computer on.”
Snatcher raises his middle finger toward Piston, and one side of my mouth curves. The road captain only spoke the truth. I don’t know how often Snatcher’s asked me to do this thingumajig or another, never being able to find the right words. He’s a good stand-in for the prez though, looking the part being hardened and battle worn. Thor’s cut from the same cloth, and while a whizz at anything mechanical, I suspect someone like Mouse would get frustrated with his lack of tech know-how at times.
Prez knocks his knuckles against the wood. “Whatever. Drummer’s sharp as a fuckin’ tack, and we shouldn’t underestimate the man. Whatever tipped him off, something has. He wouldn’t send a man like Road without some cause for suspicion. Now he has, what do we do about it?”
“Road doesn’t seem much of a threat,” I offer. “Maybe he’s exactly what he says he is. A man riding out to give himself time to set his world to rights.”
“In that case, I feel sorry for him. His motive might be different, but the result’s the same. He’s now in possession of information we don’t want others knowing.” Prez presses his lips together. “I also don’t think we should underestimate him. He might not look as though he’s got hidden depths, but he could be more than just muscle.”
“I vote we can’t take the risk and get rid of the problem.” Preacher, our sergeant-at-arms raises his hand.
I grimace. It’s not that I’m squeamish, but if I’m going to kill a man, I prefer to have good reason. Not just that he showed up at the wrong time. “There’s another way,” I tell them, waiting until their eyes meet mine. “Bring him on board. Get him to patch over.”
“No.” Thor’s slipped into his enforcer role. “It’s not as simple as that, and you fuckin’ know it, Swift. There’s a thing called fuckin’ trust, and that has to be earned.”
“He bloody earned it in Tucson.” I roll my eyes. “Got his patch, and Drummer’s faith in him to prove it.”
“But not ours.” Though Prez’s eyes narrow as though he’s considering my suggestion.
Stormy stops sulking enough to say, “We patch him over, that might be just what he wants? If he’s here as a plant, he’d agree to a transfer, soak up our operation, then run back to Drummer and Tucson where presumably his loyalties lie. Aren’t any of you assholes considering that might be exactly what he was sent here to do?”
Pip’s face darkens, suggesting he doesn’t much like being referred to as an asshole, but he doesn’t comment right now.
“What’s Tucson got to offer that we haven’t?”
Snatcher snorts before he replies to Rascal. “How about a swimming pool and an all-year riding climate?”
“We got snow. Well, not now, but later in the year.” Rascal sinks lower in his chair as eleven expressions of derision shoot his way.
I roll my eyes dismissing Road as a man who has a yearning to build a snowman, and skiing wouldn’t appeal either, not with his leg as it is now.