Trigger's Light - Carol Dawn Page 0,36
takes a moment before talking.
“Are you in trouble?” he asks.
“Nah.”
“Whatever you’re involved with, will it come back on the club?”
“Only if the club gets itself involved,” Brick says. “That’s why, for the moment, I need to keep it to myself.”
“I trust that you’ll come to me if you need help,” Prez says. “No matter what it is. No matter if the club gets any backlash. If you need help, you better come to us.”
Brick nods his head but doesn’t say anything further.
“Alright, get the fuck out,” Bear says.
◆◆◆
After telling Thea that I would be back in a few hours, Ink and I hopped on our bikes and made our way to the Soul Searchers compound. Now, we’re sitting here waiting on Mac to get out of a meeting.
“I thought you arrived at the clubhouse in your car,” Ink says. “Where the hell did your bike come from?”
“Garage,” I answer.
“Well, don’t go into too much detail,” Ink says, sarcastically. “We don’t have that kind of time.”
“Infernal Sons,” Mac says, walking into the room. “I was expecting you an hour ago.”
“We were here an hour ago, Mac,” Ink says. “You were too busy fucking around to care.”
Mac laughs, ignoring Ink.
“Trigger,” he says, turning his attention to me. “Something came up yesterday, and out of respect for you and the Sons, I thought you should know about it.”
My interest piques.
I wait silently for Mac to continue.
“Chains sent word that someone was after your woman,” he starts, sitting in the chair across the table.
I nod, already knowing that Bear and Chains updated all clubs in the area.
“We were given names of possible suspects,” he continues. “One of those names caught my attention. Marco Michaels. I’ve only just learned about Marco this past year. To say I was surprised at seeing his name in relation to the Sons would be an understatement.”
“Marco is Thea’s nephew’s father,” Ink says. “She recently obtained custody of the baby, but there doesn’t seem to be any hostility between them anymore.”
Marco has been coming around every other week. He’s given us no problems at all. He stays for an hour to visit Brendon, only when I’m there, then leaves.
I nod my agreement with Ink’s statement and wait.
“What Trig is silently asking is, what does Marco have to do with anything?”
“Have you ever heard of the Death Mongrels?” Mac asks.
The Death Mongrels are a motorcycle club about an hour away from Lebanon. They base their club in King’s Mills, Ohio. We stay out of their territory, and they stay the fuck away from ours.
“Yep,” Ink answers.
“Well, they have a VP by the name of Marco Michaels,” Mac says. “Rumer has it that Marco is pissed and looking for revenge. Something about bitches knowing their places and earning him money.”
“Maybe it’s a different Marco,” Ink says.
I have a gut feeling that it’s not.
“Besides,” Ink continues. “I thought the Death Mongrels VP was Breaker?”
Mac stands and grabs a tablet sitting on the table behind him.
“I had the same thought,” he says, messing with something on the tablet. “So, I had one of my men do some digging. The Death Mongrels were making a very public deal a few weeks back. My guy got these images from a security feed a couple of blocks away. This is their President, Dagger. And standing next to him is the VP Marco, Breaker, Michaels.”
I grab the tablet and look at the image. Sure enough, wearing a cut sporting the Death Mongrels colors stands Marco.
“Mother Fucker. I knew that weasel was up to something.”
“Can you forward that to me?” Ink asks.
“Sure thing. Listen, if it comes down to it, you all have the Souls at your back.”
“Thank you, brother. We need to get back to Thea before Trig here explodes.”
Shaking Mac’s hand, I nod my thanks, letting my appreciation show.
“Got your back, brother,” he repeats. “Just give us a call.”
Not wanting to wait another second, I turn and head for my bike.
I’m not sure what Marco’s endgame is, but I know one thing for sure. If he so much as harms the air around Thea and Brendon, I’ll make him suffer a fate worse than death.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Thea
Somethings wrong. When Mason came back from that other motorcycle club a few days ago, he was different. He didn’t treat me any differently, and he wasn’t any more or less silent than normal.
I could just feel that the air around him was different. More charged.
“I’m coming, honey,” I tell a crying Brendon. My little man is just over four months old