the bags along the base of the wall near the back door. “No time like the present.” He gestured Truck ahead of him, looking back at the last moment to face Myrt. “Back in a minute, sweetie.” That damn smile reappeared, accompanied by a shy chin dip. May have found a new favorite. “Maybe rustle up some road snacks for us?”
Myrt looked puzzled, but Vanna laughed and curled an arm around her shoulders. “I’ve got you covered, Bane. I’ve got you.” Turning away, she told Myrt, “Road snacks are basically anything salty or savory, nothing messy.” Their continued conversation became inaudible as they moved towards the pantry on the opposite side of the kitchen.
“Man, you got it bad.” Bane twisted to see Truck grinning widely at him. “Come on, brother. I’ll bring you up to speed, and you can give me the same courtesy.” The man’s hard elbow connected with Bane’s ribs, making him wince. “And you can tell me all about your intentions for my daughter Myrtle.”
“Your daughter?” He caught the edge of the screen door before it slapped shut, settling it quietly into the frame. “She’s not your daughter.”
“She’s mine same as Sharon is, same as Kitt’s my boy. If they belong to Vanna, then you better believe they belong to me, too.” Truck’s smile dimmed. “Woman would do well with a full house, and that’s what I understand you may be bringing back our way. But that’ll be the second part of our discussion. I need to give you a message.”
“From who?”
“Mason.”
Bane froze. Davis Mason was the international president of the Rebel Wayfarers MC, and the name he’d invoked when talking to Sallabrook. Bane had banked on the old man knowing Mason’s name—and still respecting and fearing it—on account of Mason being born only a handful or miles from where Myrt was from. Terror had been the initial reaction, but the bastard coming back and smashing a mailbox didn’t say it continued past the moment. Also, Mason’s second had a long history with not only Blackie but Peaches, his ole lady. Slate had rolled through East Texas years ago, long before he’d earned that name, and to hear Blackie talk, the man was the founder of his family in some obscure way. Mason’d had his fingers in a lot of pies over the years, so Truck saying his name, here, in the context of an urgent message—definitely caught Bane’s complete attention.
“I’m listening.”
“Gratitude, brother. He knows it was Blackie’s call who would answer the summons, but Mason’s pleased it was you. He’s only laid eyes on you a couple of times but has good associations with each interaction. Promise you, it didn’t hurt that Blackie talked you up, because not only Mason but Slate have a good relationship with the man.” Truck pulled in a heavy breath, palm smoothing his beard. It seemed as if he were preparing for bad news, and Bane rocked back on his heels, waiting until the man blew out a stream of air in a sigh. “Shit’s happening down here in Florida. Club business, and I’ve been authorized to be clear and transparent with you. We’ve absorbed the Jailbreakers over in Adken.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, man. Means a lot.” Bane shook his head side to side. “But I gotta tell you, it’s not news you guys patched over that club. We all knew it was a matter of time, given the location and proximity to all the prominent folks in Adken.” Mason’s sister Justine lived there, and Blackie had passed along the info a while ago that both their mothers were in a care center there, too. Bane wouldn’t go so far as to lay out the fullness of his knowledge, but he expected the glancing mention would be enough to get the message across.
“Shit’s been changing by the day, almost. You’re working off old info.” Truck let one shoulder rise and drop in an uneven shrug. “Justine’s in Baton Rouge with Wildman.” Bane let his head rock back, allowing his surprise to show. “Yeah, so now we’re tyin’ RWMC and IMC in tight knots. Something which hasn’t been widely advertised is we patched over Jailbreakers because otherwise Twisted was gonna scoop ’em up. He had a man who got involved with Sparks’ little sister.” Sparks had been the president of the former club and was now the president of the newly minted local RWMC chapter. “Hitch was the pivot, brother. Twisted had every valid argument for their claim. Good thing