Page 31 of Ruthless Son

“I’ll make sure they’re taken care of, Prez.”

“And get Gauge down to speak to the little one. He’s good with the artsy shit, we can maybe get a sketch of the guy who’s causing us so many problems.” He stood, stretching his arms out wide and letting out a loud yawn. “Threads will be back in the morning. Church is at 10 a.m. sharp… we have a lot to discuss.”

I sat up straight, narrowing my eyes on the prez. “What did he find out?” I was in full sergeant mode. I clenched my fists, my knuckles cracking at the thought of some payback.

“He said he’ll tell us in the morning, it was too much to go into over the phone, and he wanted to get back… it’s a long fucking ride.”

“What about… our little problem,” I muttered. There was no more talk of who had leaked the details of our last drop. Kannon had been given strict orders not to share his plans with anyone except prez and those who were going on the run—and even then, it would be a last minute brief so that there was less time for anyone to betray us. The rat was in hiding, and we had to just wait for them to show their hand.

“Nothing,” Cal huffed. “We just wait. I’ve got eyes on the streets, and the minute I know anything, you’ll know.”

My smile was tight as we shared a sharp look. Because whoever it was that was behind our townsfolk dying, would pay the ultimate price, and I get to be the lucky bastard that hands it out.

Rex

The fucking sunshine burned my eyes, and I closed them against the harsh glare that was determined to blind me and make my headache worse. I had barely slept, the nighttime playing havoc with my senses. I had listened to every footfall and every step outside my door, concentrating on who walked past my door and who left—and entered—Kannon’s room opposite mine.

The ice-cold protein mix quenched my thirst after my morning workout, the liquid breakfast filling a hole temporarily until I could get some real food. But first, I had a meeting to get to.

The brothers walked in, in single file, somber and quiet as we dropped to our designated seats, our phones discarded in the lockbox by the door. There were no distractions in church this morning.

Threads looked haggard, the long run and lack of sleep causing the normally well-dressed man to appear far older than his 30 years. I had a good few years on him, but life had not been kind to my brother. His designer shirt and jeans had been replaced with cheaper off the rack items, and he twitched and pulled at the cheap material. Threads always looked good, his hair was trimmed and his beard was groomed. He didn’t care that we ribbed him for it, he didn’t care that all of his earnings went on expensive clothes and manicures because like fuck would he have rough hands—not him. But looking at Threads now was like looking at a different man, and I hated that this ride had taken a toll on him.

His shoulder was thinner under my hand. My chest clenched at the lack of care he’d had for himself and I squeezed it reassuringly. “Glad to have you back, Brother.”

Murmurs of greetings from everyone else around the table had his cheeks flaming, and he nodded, hating the attention that was focused solely on him.

The gavel sounded, and each brother fell silent, respecting the man at the helm. “Rex is right, it’s good to see your face,” Cal announced, before getting down to business. “Threads has already apprised me of everything, so I’ll give you all the rundown.” Cal placed the gavel down gently, then placed his hands flat on the table, and with a great sigh, he started. “Felix is dead, that’s why we haven’t heard from him. His nephew—Rio—has taken over the drug trade, and he’s been selling it to whoever wants a piece.”

Felix would be rolling in his grave if he knew that his kin was disregarding everything he stood by. He had been a drug dealer, but he had morals, and he only sold to certain people and never to kids.

“Rio has been cutting our product with caustic soda, among other things.” Shouts of outrage filled the room. I cracked my fingers, eager to get a piece of that scum bag and fill him with something that would burn his fucking insides too. “But he hasn’t just been selling it here, he’s been shipping it all over the fucking place, across the US, in Mexico and Canada. He’s upped his prices and making a killing, selling it to loser dealers to make some easy money.”

“So we take him out, cut out the middleman and then just—” Cal held his hand up, shutting down Gauge’s idea.

“We can’t take him out. Threads has it on good authority that the slimeball is paying the Sinaloa Cartel protection money, some of his profits are being paid to the largest fucking drug traffickers in Mexico, so no, we ain’t going anywhere near him. We’re tough, but we would be wiped out by the Sinaloa’s.” Cal heaved a heavy sigh. “It means that the run won’t happen.” He pinned Kannon with his dark gaze, a silent message to move the shipment to a secure longer term holding facility until we can find a new buyer. “It also means that funds will be a bit tight for a little while.” Grunts of misery came from the men, mostly from those who were not good with their money to begin with. Wheeler especially would feel the pinch while we only earn from our legitimate businesses. And the dead were profitable, only when there were dead to deal with.

“We need to put the feelers out, Prez, not only that we need a new buyer, but also we need to let people know that the product hasn’t come from us,” Sonic chimed in, his lean frame hunched over the table.

“I’m already looking for a new buyer, there’s a potential in New York that I’m feeling out. The Irish are looking for a new business venture, and have… made some enquiries,” Cal replied.

“What am I supposed to do until then, Prez? I got kids that need feeding.” Wheeler sulked from his position at the end of the table.

“Maybe if you stopped spending money on whores and started saving some of the green that we make, you wouldn’t be feeling as tight at the minute,” Sly grumbled from beside me. He had a real problem with Wheeler’s loose ways, and I didn’t blame him. The guy had whores popping his kids out all over fucking Ohio and probably across America, and he couldn’t fucking afford it.

“You mind your damned business,” Wheeler gritted, leaning across the wood to glare at Sly, his lined face pinned on the Tech officer.

“I’ll give you 10% of my earnings to go toward your kids.” The low words were greeted with silence and shock from the table, it was the first time Threads had spoken since the meeting started, nor was he someone who had loads to say. He came, he saw, he joined in when needed, but otherwise my brother was a dark horse, who was always around when needed. And this just proved that he was the better man, one of the best at the table, because no one else, not even the prez had offered up his own income to support another man’s numerous kids.

Wheeler watched him from beneath his lowered brows with confusion. “Why would you do that?”

Threads’ face hardened. “I wouldn’t let family suffer because business ain’t booming.” His nostrils flared at the slight, and Wheeler, looking more beat down with every second, lowered his eyes.

“I’ll second that,” Prez added. “I won’t have my men suffer… or their families. Threads is right,” Cal nodded at the quiet man, “family first, money second.”

Sly chuckled beside me. “Pussy third, right?”

The tension eased, my brothers joining in the laughter, and Sly winked at me, a sign of his intent. The man knew how to diffuse a bomb… and ignite one. But with his little quip, the fact that we’d be a broke motorcycle club for a while didn’t seem to faze them… or me.

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