Defining Darkness - K E Osborn Page 0,16

my drink. “Got it.”

Hype and Sage walk off, leaving me with Hatch. I exhale, then take a drink while Hatch watches my every move. He’s always so calculating watching every move, every signal. He might be my friend, but he’s also a president, and his first interest is the safety of his club at all times. If I’m here to bring trouble, he wants to know about it.

I better get this over with.

No more stalling.

“Right, meeting room?”

Hatch nods. “You want a full church or just me?”

“You and Brew.”

Hatch grimaces. “This sounds serious. Should I be worried?”

“Worried, no. Open-minded… definitely.”

Hatch grumbles, “If this is another one of your hair-brained schemes, Nycto, I’m not sure how many times I can bail you out of the damn shit.”

I take another sip of my beer, gesturing for us to head toward the meeting room. “Let’s just go have a chat, yeah?”

Brew rubs his beard. His eyes focus on Spark, who doesn’t react. Good man. We enter the meeting room. It’s not huge but large enough to house an oval-shaped deep mahogany table etched with the RBMC logo in the middle. The inscription looks almost like it’s been burned into the woodgrain. Every time I come in here, I always think how fucking cool this table is. The chairs are highbacked wood matching the table. They are old-school here, but it suits the place. Hatch and his guys want the club to have a certain feel, and this room is no different. One wall is a deep burgundy color, giving the room warmth that you wouldn’t normally get from a bikers’ meeting room, especially when you compare it to ours back in Tampa. This place feels like home like you’re family.

Gotta say, it’s making me a little less on edge.

Hatch sits at the head of the table, Brew taking up his VP position, with Spark and I on the other side. I bring my fists onto the table, letting out a drawn-out breath.

“Spit it out, Nycto. Whatever you’re bringing in here, it’s not good. So, hit me with it.”

I lean back in the chair getting comfortable. Hatch isn’t going to like what I have to say. He’s never been a massive fan of the way Tampa makes our profits. Working with traffickers is not the way they like money to come in, and I get it, but hell, Miami isn’t aboveboard either. They sell heroin for Christ’s sake. Hatch’s nose is just as dirty as mine.

“We did a run last night. Typical run of the mill, nothing out of the ordinary. Six packages came in. We were supposed to transport them to a location, then Andrés’ men would collect from the location drop-off. They would then be dispersed to the buyers.”

Brew sits forward, the crow’s feet around his eyes appearing more predominant in the moment. “I’m not liking where this is headed.”

My eyes meet his. Brew’s like the wise old man in this club. He’s not old, not really, but for a man in his forties, against the younger guys of the club, he stands out.

“Yeah, with good reason, Brew… I fucked-up.”

Hatch snorts out a laugh. “You, Nycto, President of Tampa Royal Bastards is admitting to a fuck-up. Jesus, I must be in the Twilight Zone.”

“I’m serious, Hatch.”

He shakes his head. “You kept one, didn’t you? A girl?”

“How could you possibly know that?”

Hatch leans forward. “Because even though you try to come off as this tough, take-no-shit, hold-no-bars kind of asshole, you care. Deep down, you damn well care. I knew one day, one of those girls would strike a chord with you. Tug at your cold, dead heart.”

Spark shifts in his seat, his gaze boring into mine.

I groan. He wants me to admit the whole truth. “Fuck! Okay, yeah, so I took her, but… she has a sister.”

“Well, this just got even more interesting,” Brew adds.

“I took her sister, too. The woman’s unaware I have her sis—”

“You took two?” Hatch bellows sitting taller as he glares at me with so much intensity that if his stare could radiate heat, I’d be burning up right now.

“I had no choice. I couldn’t stand to see her sold. She would never forgive me if I didn’t save her sister as well. So… I… Had. No. Choice.”

Hatch stands, turning his back to me, pacing the room. “You had a damn choice right back when you got involved with Andrés. You chose this life. You chose this path for Tampa. Fuck, Nycto. You’ve put your club at risk.”

“Andrés believes