Page 21 of Vapor's Blaze

I hear the rustling of papers and there is silence for about ten full minutes before King speaks again. “Nice work, Hark. I think you probably could have done a little better on the Battle of Gettysburg.”

Ah, it’s homework. That tracks with what we know about the kid’s age. He’s in high school.

His grandson mutters, “Who cares about some war with muskets?”

King responds gruffly, “Learning this shit is supposed to make you a smarter and more well-rounded person.”

“I get that. It’s just crusty, boring reading, Gramps.”

“Here. I’ve got something for you,” King says. “It’s a book I want you to read.”

“It looks old,” Hark opines. “The cover is falling off and the binding is coming apart.”

“Yeah, it’s my favorite book. I read it back when I first started the Hellfire Hounds. Your father read it when he was a prospect and Tracker read it when he was your age.”

Hark reads the name out loud, “Zen and The Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. You want me to become a mechanic?”

“I want you to read through this book a little at a time and we’ll talk about it over dinner.”

Hark asks, “What kind of book is it?”

“It’s a philosophical book about life. It’s about a guy who takes a road trip, has to fix his bike a lot and learns some important life lessons.”

“It sounds a lot more interesting than learning about Gettysburg, that’s for sure.”

“You need to grow into the kind of right-hand man Tracker will need when he takes my place as club president.”

“That won’t be for a long time,” the kid responds.

“It might be sooner than any of us think,” King says darkly.

Without further conversation, King heads back downstairs. I can tell because the front bar area of their clubhouse has a lot of windows, which is strange for someone as security conscious as King. He might think that because his place is far from town and kind of isolated that it makes them safer.

As I watch him sit down at the bar, I make a mental note to check if the windows were made of ballistic glass. That might factor into any attempt we make to breach their clubhouse.

King is a bit of a nut job. He really only cares about two things, his club and his grandsons. I can tell he cares about his grandson because he took time out of his life to check his homework and mold him into the kind of man he thinks the kid should become. I was actually finding myself softening toward the old man, but watching him at the bar, as far as I can tell he is a ruthless asshole to everyone else in his life.

For instance, right now he’s snagged an older redhead by the hair and is jerking her around. He’s yelling at her for something to do with sucking up all their booze without putting out. The next thing I know he’s threatening to run a train on her but ends up getting frustrated with her and kicking her aside. She’s out the door and gone in ten seconds flat. This whole situation with the redhead didn’t sit right with me. We have problems from time to time with some of our club girls, but Siege, our president, always treats them with courtesy and respect. Even fucking Lori who’s been banned more times than I can count on two hands. I’d heard people say that everyone is the hero of their own story, no matter how evil they are on the inside. King definitely fell into that category in my mind.

Chapter 8

Vapor

Day two of sitting on the Hellfire Hounds clubhouse is aggravating. Rigs was supposed to take over, but he and his old lady got a lead on one of those missing kids they were still tracking down and had to bail on me. I ended up sleeping rough last night and I’m back on the job at the fucking crack of dawn. I’m pissed that I had to cancel half my tattoo appointments, but I guess these things can’t be helped. Dutch is on his way to relieve me and should be here any minute. I can’t wait to be shot of this place. The things I’ve seen since I started monitoring the Hound’s clubhouse make me want to bleach my eyes.

King comes downstairs, kicking several of his men awake on his way to church. I lose track of him yet again because there are no cameras in the meeting room they use for club business. Which is a smart move, but not a deterrent for me as long as he keeps his cell phone on him. I turn up the volume on my earpiece. All I hear are club noises. I’d fucking give anything for nice hot coffee about now.

A half an hour or so later, I hear a gavel slam down and King calls their meeting to order. I sit down, pull out my vape and take a draw. Zen, our IT brother, is already recording everything in real time, so I just need to be eyes on.

I hear King’s voice yell angrily, “If the Savage Legion think they can fuck up our operation, they are dumber than they look. I want every single member of the Legion six feet under. Everything they have will be ours, including those pretty little club whores. We’ll add them to our stable and work them until they drop.”

I can hear the others talking over each other. It’s impossible to tell if they’re objecting or cheering. From the sound of their excited voices, I assume it’s the latter.

King’s voice rises to be heard above the others. “We’ve been dealing with those assholes for fuckin’ years and it needs to stop.”

“Jinx is going to give us an update, he knows some guys who claim to have intel on the Savage Legion.”

Another voice, who I assume is Jinx speaks. He spins a story about how the drug dealers admitted under extreme interrogation that they had links in several counties throughout California. They stated their group had established ties with a dangerous South American cartel who were looking to import drugs directly into California. Furthermore, this person had stated that the Savage Legion was in the process of taking over their operation one piece at a time.

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