Page 18 of Vapor's Blaze

“That’s why I’ve decided to turn over my cut. Not immediately, but within the upcoming weeks, when I figure out how to do it and stay alive.”

I screech, “You cannot do that. You’re supposed to be the next club president. King won’t let you leave.” I rise to my feet and begin pacing in front of the table. “This is a ridiculously stupid decision.”

Tracker stands up and walks over to me, putting his hands on my shoulders. “Look, sis. I’m tired of running drugs and guns. I can’t tolerate the trafficking. Just because we were raised in it, doesn’t mean it has to be the rest of our lives. If I stay in the Hounds, I’m going to lose it on someone.”

“What about King? He’s going to lose his ever-lovin’ mind.” It’s funny, despite King being my grandfather I could never bring myself to call him Gramps like my brothers. Maybe it’s because he only came into my life when I was fourteen. To me he was a stranger.

“He might. I can’t think about that right now. I mainly wanted to tell you that even though I’m quitting the club, I’ll never quit the two of you. You’re my family and family is forever.”

Glancing at Hark, I force myself to lighten up. Tracker and I know this conversation is not over by a long shot. However, I force the anxiety out of my voice and say, “I can’t wait to meet this Mel. She must be pretty amazing for you to throw away your cut to be with her.”

The second the words come flying out of my mouth, I know that I’ve made a terrible mistake. “I didn’t mean that the way it came out. I swear.”

“The club’s not all it’s cracked up to be, Trix. I’ve been around a lot of other clubs and none of them are quite as dysfunctional as ours.”

Hark intones, “A brotherhood is only as good as its weakest link, right Tracker?”

“Yeah, that’s absolutely true. In our case, the weak link is Gramps. He’s gotten meaner as he’s gotten older. I was never wild about all the crime. It’s the high-risk kind that can land us all in prison for a very long time. Like I said before, I might have been raised in it but that doesn’t mean I have to choose it as an adult.”

“No damn wonder you wanted us all to have breakfast together this morning. This is the equivalent of dropping a nuclear bomb right in the middle of an already chaotic situation,” I say.

“Thankfully, you can claim to know nothing about it and move forward with your life,” Tracker responds, as he takes another mouthful of breakfast. My appetite has gone.

Now, this is the point where it would probably be prudent to interject that I’ve also been seeing someone not associated with Hellfire Hounds. But I don’t, because Tracker has finally found someone worth fighting for, and I don’t want him to feel like he has to worry about protecting me from our grandfather’s wrath when he’s got his own skin to worry about.

So, I resign myself to supporting him. “Look Tracker, whatever you need I’m here for you.”

Hark stands and walks over to stand shoulder to shoulder with us. “From this moment forward, we have each other’s back no matter the situation.”

I reach out and pull them both closer for a group hug, knowing that our lives just got exponentially more dangerous. The realization sets in that I no longer have the time or energy to waste on a relationship with Vapor, because I need to throw everything I’ve got into helping Tracker break free of the Hounds. Suddenly, I see him happy and carefree, doing his own thing with a woman who sees him as a good man, rather than an outlaw biker, and I want that for him more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.

Chapter 7

Vapor

I volunteered to gather intel on the Hellfire Hounds for two reasons. The first reason is that they are the one percent club that’s been shooting at our club members and trying to burn down our shit for years. We’ve been locked in a power struggle for territory for as long as I can remember. Because the Hellfire Hounds are one percenters, they are possibly our most dangerous adversary.

The second reason is because I’d really like to get eyes on all their bikes so I can figure out whose woman I hooked up with last weekend. I don’t know why this has been stuck in my head, but I just can’t let it go. Trix is the one piece of pretty that I can’t seem to stay away from, no matter how hard I try. I warmed up to her far too quickly, and although she says she’s free as a bird, I still can’t shake the idea that she turned me unwittingly into her side piece. Tracker just about lost his shit when she showed up at our bar in town a couple of days ago. Even though she swore they weren’t together, the man sure as fuck seems vested in her life. I asked him about her as subtly as I could, but all he said was they had history, but not the romantic kind.

Rigs and I have been taking turns shadowing the Hounds with the hopes of figuring out all their dirty little secrets. I’m on the night shift, so I left the clubhouse at dusk to follow King who looks to be heading across town to meet with his longtime supplier. As always, he left the club in the capable hands of his VP, Jinx and a half dozen prospects. The two-story brick clubhouse is located behind a cinderblock tire business. Both are behind a ten-foot-tall chain link fence. Their electronic security alone would make the secret service green with envy—though it didn’t stop Zen from hacking into the system. King takes his responsibilities as club president and grandfather very seriously. There are clearly certain things the old buzzard never risks. His family and club are at the top of that short list.

Tonight he’s meeting with a contact by the name of Scud, presumably to purchase contraband weapons. Our club tipped off law enforcement about their last shipment and it was impounded as soon as it crossed the county line. King had been pretty damn upset, which is probably why he’s seeing to this transaction himself.

I hang back out of sight and follow them using the tracker Rigs attached to King’s bike. Zen, our club’s IT guy also managed to hack King’s phone, so we can hear what’s going on as long as his phone is turned on. Our club officers have decided now is the time to start solving the Hellfire Hounds problem and they’re throwing everything they’ve got at it.

I stay out of sight, and it doesn’t take them long to stop at an abandoned barn just off the highway. I’m able to get close enough to watch the action through my binoculars without them noticing. Parking their bikes in the back, they wait for Scud. Boone draws his attention by stooping beside him as he keeps watch. His sergeant at arms might just be the best in the region. He’s quick and street smart. Protecting the club and his brothers comes as naturally as breathing to this guy.

I turn up the volume on my earpiece so I can hear what they’re saying.

“Hey boss, you think Tracker’s guy can be trusted?”

“Tracker’s my goddamn grandson. He’s never gone wrong when it comes to trusting a contact. If he vouches for Scud that means he’s solid. The bottom line is we need weapons so we’re gonna have to take a chance.”

“We’re definitely in a fix right now, boss. If the fucking cops hadn’t confiscated our last shipment, our armory would be packed with everything we need to take the Legion out. This shipment is half of our last one and we’re short of the three club members that got arrested. As it stands now, we’re gonna be screwed if the Legion picks a fight with us.”

“Stop fucking panicking, Boone. Weapons can be scrounged. Be more worried about our brothers that got pinched.” King’s voice is tinged with an edge of desperation. This is clearly a man under pressure, pressure our club created.

“Losing that shipment to the police really put us in a bind,” Boone says.

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