Page 62 of Kneeling to Candy

Atlas examines Candy for a long beat before his eyes settle on me. “I understand this is personal. But it would be best to bring him in for questioning. After we’ve gotten what we need from him, we won’t stand in your way.”

“I second,” Gauge agrees.

“All those in favor of taking the fucker alive and then disposing of, say, ‘Aye,’” Atlas calls to a vote.

A chorus of “Ayes” echoes around the room and through the speaker.

It’s not the sudden vengeance I want, but Candy will get her justice in the end.

“Butch, you’re in,” Atlas says, giving me the green light. “Who else wants in on this operation?”

“Me,” Ziggy’s voice rings through the speaker. “I go where my brother goes.”

As pissed as I am at my best friend for not having my back earlier this morning, I’m happy he wants to accompany me on this mission. The two of us have always worked well together in the field.

Atlas nods in approval. “That will cover tech. On to the muscle.”

“I’m in,” a low voice rumbles through the speaker.

Hearing Tank volunteer for a mission is shocking. When he joined our MC as a prospect, he only agreed to do security detail. His years serving as a Marine left him with a shit-ton of post traumatic stress compounded by his time working as Lorenzo Bianchi’s private security. Missions were off the table. The only time Tank came close to anything like the missions we take on was when he came to Argentina to retrieve Jo after Atlas’s bio-dad, Esteban Moreno, abducted her. And even then, he was there to get Jo safely to Chile and then remained with her while the rest of the crew went back into Argentina to retrieve Atlas.

“Tank?” Atlas’s voice is thick with concern. “Don’t do anything you’re uncomfortable with.”

“Can’t talk me out of it, Prez. I know what I’m signing up for. Outside of Piero, no one understands the mob world like me. I grew up in it. Lived it most of my life. I may know shit about the trafficking business, but I know how to navigate working with filth. Mobster life is in my blood. Besides, I owe this to Butch and Candy.”

Well, I’ll be damned. The former mobster has a guilt bone. Pretty unusual for someone who grew up in the mafia.

As mad as I am from Tank mentioning Candy at this morning’s meeting, I don’t want Tank being triggered into a PTSD episode on account of guilt.

“Are you sure?” I ask, giving the newest MC member an option to back out while he still can.

“Yeah man, I’m sure.”

Candy scratches her head and leans toward me, asking with a hushed voice, “Why does Tank owe us?”

I pat her shoulder reassuringly. “For flapping his mouth.”

“Um…okay?” Candy shakes her head, still confused, but not enough to let it bother her.

“Done. Tank, you’re security. I need one more volunteer, someone to play the part of seller and buyer, along with Piero.”

We have some excellent actors in the crew, but this mission is something else entirely.

The silence grows a tad uncomfortable as we murmur amongst ourselves about who in the crew would be best equipped to play the undercover part of the operation.

A feminine voice clears her throat. My jaw drops as I watch Candy raise her hand.

No. Fucking. Way.

Candy gives a saucy smile, saying, “Looks like this team could use a little insider knowledge for this mission. I volunteer.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

CANDY

“The hell you are,” Butch thunders, swinging my chair around to face him. He grunts like an angry bear, ready to maul anyone who challenges him.

Startled, I gawk at my biker, taking in his open hostility. This is not like Butch—he’s usually cool-headed. His anger wasn’t unexpected. I assumed Butch would be upset with me for volunteering. However, I didn’t expect him being enraged to the point of frothing at the mouth like a diseased animal.

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