Page 22 of Grim Justice

I took the time to ride to Las Vegas and the auto shop where I bought my parts when I worked on one of my custom bikes. That work had also taken a back seat to the shit with Razr and BSMC. I missed working with my hands and getting dirty, creating unique designs that customers loved. That was why I began Reaper’s Custom Rides & Repairs.

Pulling up to the shop, I parked in front of the store, kicking down the stand after I cut the engine. Stashing my helmet inside my saddlebags, I turned the lock and walked inside.

There was something about the smell and the atmosphere in a garage or auto shop. Grease. Motor oil. Leather. Smoke. Often musty and almost always stinking like chemicals, it could sting your nose. I fucking loved it.

Stan moved from behind the counter as I approached. “Dex Lanford. Where the hell have you been, man?”

“Busy,” I replied with a laugh. “I came to check on some parts I ordered last week. I was hopin’ they were in.”

He nodded, gesturing to his computer. “Let me look up your account.”

I waited as he typed on the keyboard.

“That’s strange.”

“What?” I asked, wondering if the order was delayed.

“All your orders are canceled. Even the repeat orders scheduled for each month. Your account is suspended.”

The fuck?

“I’ve never had that happen before.”

“Yeah. It’s weird. Looks like someone called in and asked to have the whole account blocked.”

“I sure as fuck didn’t.”

He pointed to the screen. “Would anyone from your shop have a reason to do it?”

Fuck no. “No, Stan. We need those parts. Nobody would sabotage the company.”

He nodded. I heard him clicking on the keys. “I’ve got it reinstated, but I’m going to have to reorder all your parts and products. It’s going to take weeks to get it all in stock.”

“Don’t you keep some of those items on hand?”

“Yeah, but we’re sold out. Every part you ordered is on backorder. Never seen anything like it. Almost like someone is trying to cut you out of the equation or impact your sales.”

Yeah. It sure sounded like it. Who the fuck had a vendetta against me or the club?

I had to look into this.

“Thanks, Stan. I’m going to head back to The Crossroads. Let me know when you have the shit I need.”

“Sorry, man. I’ll do what I can.”

“I know. Not your fault. I appreciate it.”

Spinning on my heel, I walked back out, pulling on my shades as I sat on my bike. Something was going on. There was no way all of that was a coincidence.

Maybe this had to do with the reason my Reaper felt antsy.

When I returned to the compound, I found Xenon immediately, stopping to explain what had happened.

“Damn, pres. That’s some vile shit.”

“I need to know what you can find. Dig deep. If we’ve got a rival or someone looking to harm the club, I need to know.”

“You got it, pres.”

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