Page 11 of Devil's Plaything

“The money is decent. As for our other ventures, I told our supplier tonight was our last delivery.”

A rumble of disapproval spreads throughout the room. I knew he fucked up. We may be willing to stop the trafficking but we aren’t the type of men to do a one-eighty and become different people at the drop of a hat.

“Before we even discussed it?” Hawk asks, angrily.

“I understand some things are club nature, like the drugs and the illegal gambling. I am man enough to admit that I made a rash decision at the delivery. Which is why I called the supplier and secured our future business dealings. Without the threat of trafficking looming over our heads, we can continue our other ventures…for now. I would never lead you guys down the wrong path. This is a good thing for us. For the club. Let’s put it to a vote. No more trafficking.”

It isn’t unanimous and I feel like a total asshole voting nay but the majority vote carries. Snake approaches me after.

“Sorry I couldn’t have your back on this one,” I say. “Just isn’t my nature, man.”

He nods understandably. “I won’t say I’m not disappointed. The guys need to see unification. Split votes don’t help the club.”

“I wasn’t the only one who voted nay.”

“No. You’re just the only one I thought wouldn't.”

He pats me on the shoulder before heading out. So, it’s official. The Devils are out of the trafficking business.

“Can you believe this bullshit? Dear old dad has gone soft,” Hawk says. “Whiskey hustle? He’s lost his fucking marbles.”

I shrug, Snake’s disappointment weighing heavy on my shoulders. “The vote carried.”

“Barely. Look, do you still have your Vegas contacts?”

“Maybe.”

“I’d appreciate it if you’d pass that info along to me.”

“Why?”

Hawk chuckles. “Jesus, man, because I fucking asked for it.”

“Yeah, whatever the fuck you’re planning, it’s a bad idea. I’m not getting involved in that bullshit.”

“What I’m planning? I’m planning on keeping this fucking club afloat. Pull your head out of my father’s ass, Zeke. He’s running this club into the ground.”

“That might be the case, but he’s still the president. That’s a title you’re never going to get.”

16

Cleo

I frown when I hear a knock on my door. Zeke dropped me off a couple of hours ago. I’ve had just enough time to put away the few things I own. The apartment came furnished, which was always a perk. I’m glad my landlord let me come back. I open the door and Zeke walks in, a to-go bag from the Broken Shaker in his hands.

“You brought me dinner?”

Zeke shrugs, putting the bags on my counter. “I’m hungry and I like to fuck after I eat. Seemed like the logical solution.”

“Burgers and beer. Guess you actually do have some redeeming qualities.”

“I can think of one more. Nine or so inches. Pierced.”

I laugh. “That thing is more like a weapon.”

He hands me a burger and fries while I get a beer. It doesn’t escape my attention that he gave me the food first. Those flags get an even lighter shade of red.

“There’s something I should tell you.” Arching an eyebrow, he waits on me to continue. “Nitro isn’t my old man or anything remotely close to that.”

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