Page 8 of Motorycle Daddies

He steps out in front of me, clearly unsure of himself. I hope he won’t be stumbling over his words, and I breathe a sigh of relief when he sounds a lot more eloquent than he looks.

“I’ve come into some information about the Bratva. It’s my understanding that Grizzly and the rest of you have had some run-ins with them before. I thought you would like to know what they’re planning next.”

As he says this, my eyes dart around the room. I see some of the members shuffle impatiently, especially Trap. He’s hiding it under anger, but he’s been through hell today. I hate to do this to him, keeping him on his toes and so exhausted, but he’s one of my best at lying and undercover work. He’s good at planning. Hell, he’s diabolical. I need him in on this as much as my other officers. At this point, if there was a position available for him, I’d give it to him.

“The Bratva deals in many illegal things, but one of the biggest businesses is trafficking. I think that’s something you already know, according to Grizzly. But there’ve been some rumors flying around, and those rumors are true. The girls they have left, they’re going to be at auction. I’ve been given the date and location that they’re currently planning, though I know it could be a decoy. But either way, I thought you deserve to know so you can choose to make a move.”

He stands in silence for a moment and then moseys back over to his seat as if he doesn’t know what else to say.

I stay where I’m standing and wait for it.

The room explodes in conversation—some shouting at each other, some shouting at me. I knew they wouldn’t take it well. I didn’t take it well either, which is why I was fucking late for my own meeting.

I give everyone a few minutes, and when they don’t settle down, I step up. “Shut the fuck up.” I turn a hard gaze on everyone. I make sure to meet everyone’s eyes, and most of them quickly look away.

“I’m pissed the fuck off about this. It’s disgusting. These assholes went up against us. They steal young girls, and mean to auction their innocence, right under our fucking noses. It’s unacceptable. So, we need a plan. A smart one.”

Before I can even mention what the plan might be or how to proceed, Bane, his face twisted with rage, steps up. “We don’t need a fucking plan. The plan is simple—we round up all our men and we raid the goddamn place. We save the girls. We fucking kill every last one of them except for their leader. Him, we torture, skin, and hang. There will be no more Bratva in Vegas.”

Two of the other officers stand up and pump their fists in the air.

I have a good idea why Bane is thinking like this. I can’t be angry at him, even though he’s usurping my authority right now.

The Bratva, they hurt Harlow. And Harlow has become Bane’s life, the same way she is to me. My sugarplum has managed to find her soulmates among some of my men. Bane is the most hotheaded and protective of them all, and now their children could get involved. I wouldn’t expect any less of him.

I place my hand on Bane’s shoulder. “You should sit the fuck down before this gets out of hand,” I say into his ear. He looks at me with betrayal on his face, but then he does what I say.

“I know we’re all out for blood. I am too. But this is the Bratva. They run deep. We don’t know the half of it, and they know our every move. You know what happened today, how easy it was for them to figure out what the hell we were doing. And we lost a prospect. We could have lost Trap. We need to be more subtle about this. And this is why I’ve been preparing at least a half-ass plan, but I need you all to help me figure out the rest of it. Especially you, Trap.”

Trap’s eyebrows raise toward the ceiling when I point to him. His arms uncross and he comes off the wall. “Me?”

“Yeah, your name is Trap for a reason.”

He smirks at me and nods, and nothing else has to be said.

“Fine,” Bane says. “So, what’s this half-ass plan of yours?”

“I’ve come into contact with someone who’s serving as a mole inside of the Bratva. Well, as close to the inside as we’re going to get after our more recent run-ins with the Bratva. It’s not like they’d ever actually trust us. Not without a hell of a lot of work.”

It’s Alto who speaks up next. “Prez, what deals have you been making behind our back? Who’s this guy who’s supposedly going to help us get in with the Bratva?”

I don’t even want to say it. It sounds so incredibly fucked-up, and it’s against everything that we’ve always said we wouldn’t do. But there’s no choice here. “He’s a member of the Italian Mafia—the younger brother of the head in LA. He doesn’t have enough power, so he’s duped the Bratva into thinking he’s going to help them with recruitment and security for this event. In turn, they’re going to give him more power to help him push his brother out.”

Alto shakes his head. “This is a deal with the devil, Prez. Do you know what the hell you’re doing here? No offense, but how can he be trusted? Mafia is Mafia.”

I sigh. “I cut a deal. That’s what we do. In times like these, we have no choice but to cut a deal, and the deal is the trust. He gives us something, we give him something.”

“You’re not turning us into fucking assassins now, are you?” Bane asks.

“Of course not. Artie told him we’re not assassins, but we’ll give him some kind of favor that will help him gain power at some point. It’s the best I could do. Trap, this is going to be on you. We’re going to get into this event, and we’re going to need a couple of guys. But because of Harlow, I don’t think I can touch this, and I can’t let Bane or any of Harlow’s other guys touch this either. Can you help me?”

Trap steps up, his face contemplative. “I’ll do my damnedest, Prez. Either way, we’ll fight to take these assholes down.”

At least that’s something we can agree on.

5

TRAP

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