Page 12 of Cain

“What’s up?” I say as I unlock the office door and step inside.

“You busy? You’re needed at the clubhouse.” That has my eyebrows raising. “Some uninvited visitors decided to stop by,” Scotch says, his voice tight.

Shit. This can’t be good.

“Yeah, I’m at DD’s. Be there in 20.” I hang up without even waiting for a response. Slipping on my cut, I make sure everything is locked up behind me before I slip out the back. The last thing I need is to get a whiff of Evan again and lose all of my fucking concentration.

Pulling up to the clubhouse, I see Spider’s bike, the president of The Reapers MC, a club a few states over who we happen to be in this fucking situation with, along with the other guys he brought with him, parked outside.

Fuck.

The door to the clubhouse slams behind me as I take in the scene. The air is full of tension you could cut with a fucking knife.

My men are flanked by Scotch, and Spider is in front of him as the two face off.

“What the fuck is going on?”

Spider turns his attention to me, eyes set in hard lines as he says, “What the fuck is going on is that our shipment got fucking jacked in the hands of you fucking pussies.” I can feel everyone in the room stiffen, waiting for someone to strike first. “We fulfilled our end of the arrangement. You were supposed to transport it to the cartel, and somehow you fucks managed to fuck that up.”

“Watch your fucking tone, Spider. You might be president of your club, but this is my fucking house your standing in,” I growl.

“You better fucking fix this shit. The last thing I want is the cartel sniffing around. We don’t need a war right now,” he growls back.

“What the fuck do you think I’m doing? I’m working on it.”

“You just going to pull five hundred pounds out of your ass?

And that’s when I lose it.

In a blink of an eye, I’m on him, my hands hauling him up by the collar of his cut, slamming him against the wall behind him. The sounds of guns being drawn echo behind me, but I only have eyes for Spider. “You’re not going to come into my house and talk to me like I’m your bitch. If I said I’m fucking handling it, then I’m fucking handling it. You got me?” I growl, squeezing my hand around his throat.

“I got you,” Spider chokes out.

Releasing him but not before giving him one last shove, I step back. Spider is rubbing his throat while catching his breath, glaring at me. Clearly fucking pissed that I just made him look like the little bitch he is in front of his men.

“Now, if you’re done mouthing off, I can fill you in on what I have set in play,” I say, waiting for a nod of confirmation from him. “We have another contact that we’ve talked to who can come up with the same amount that got jacked.”

“Who is the contact?”

“That’s something you don’t need to know,” I answer, feeling Scotch stiffen beside me.

If they got wind of Evan, Scotch would be out for blood, and I’d be right behind him, ready to fuck a motherfucker up.

“Bullshit. We need to know what we’re dealing with.”

“And if I feel like shit is about to hit the fan, I’ll call your secretary.” I smirk as my eyes slide to the scrawny bitch next to Spider. “We’re done,” I say at the same time the scrawny bitch lets out a growl. “Follow them out, boys. And make sure they get the fuck off of my property.”

On that parting, I head towards the meeting room for church to wait for the rest of the guys. There’s one thing that's not sitting right about their unexpected visit.

Just how did The Reapers find out about the jacked shipment?

“They leave okay?” I ask as soon as they start filing in.

“Sure.” Trick gives me a knowing smirk.

“Cyrus fuck ‘em up a little?”

“You know Cyrus,” came my confirmation. I’m not even going to tell him to chill out. Those fuckers deserve it after showing up unannounced like that.

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