Page 79 of Forty

“You can walk out of here, Rab. Just call him on your phone.”

“You’ve got my phone.”

Heavy’s mysterious new tech genius has already been through Rab’s contacts. We got a few new leads, but so far, we’ve come up with nothing.

I’m getting impatient. I don’t like how I left things with Nevaeh. I don’t particularly likewhereI left her, either. No one at the clubhouse will hurt her, but given the chance, they’ll fuck with her. Nevaeh’s always been able to hold her own, but this isn’t how I wanted to introduce her back into the club.

I was planning to bring her around. Show everyone how it is now, how it’s going to be. Ease the transition.

I got such little time with her, though, spending all my daylight hours hunting down this asshole. I didn’t want to spend an evening opening a can of worms. And maybe I’m a weak man. She comes running when I open the door, and there is no place else on earth I want to be.

My brothers know better than to say shit to my face, but I catch the looks when she calls. Or when they want me to have a beer after a wasted day, but I head home.

I’m gonna need to bust someone’s head over this before they understand that Nevaeh’s my old lady. And it’s probably gonna be Heavy. They’d all adjust if he gave the nod, but he’s holding his line, whatever the fuckin’ reason.

I grab Rab by the front of his flannel shirt, shake him a little. “Come on, Rab. Quit dickin’ us around. How long do you think it’s gonna take us to visit every one of those contacts in that phone? You want Steel Bones rolling up on your women?”

The answer is less than three hours to visit the four women on Rab’s rotation. He’s got no wife, no kids, and no teeth, but he’s not hurting for female companionship.

“You roll up on them, they ain’t my women anymore. At that point, the jig is up,” the old coot cackles. “Unless you guys is discreet.”

I roll my eyes and step off. Heavy brushes his hands on his jeans and lumbers over to take my place.

Heavy and I have been at this for almost five hours. Charge and Nickel have been here for seven, almost eight. It was Mikey, a brother who usually works construction and keeps a low profile, who wound up running into Rab at the super store on route 12, buying tackle.

Charge and Nickel brought him in, but Nickel’s been sitting this part out. He’s trying to reform himself, be less aggressive. That’s kind of like asking a fish to breathe air, but I got no problem doing what needs to be done. We’re not gonna kill Rab. This is a waiting game.

We apply pressure, then we ease off.

We sent Mikey to get him some burger and fries. We’ll have Charge feed the guy, take the gas off, be the good cop, and then Heavy and I will roll back in with the threats. If need be, we leave him to sweat it out alone for a day or two. He’ll break. It’s basic psychological warfare.

It’s a waste, too. We told Rab the truth from the get go. We want a meet with Knocker. And in the meantime, we want a ceasefire.

Rab told us he wanted a three-titted woman, and in the meantime, we could lick his ass.

Heavy’s looming over Rab where he’s tied arms, torso, and legs to a crappy plastic beach chair, reminding him that his trailer can burn as quickly as his tattoo parlor did, when my phone chirps.

I’m at Lou’s. I’ll be here.

What the hell? I told that woman to stay put. Goddamn. There’s no one on Lou Ellis’ house. She’s a sitting duck.

Go back to the clubhouse. Now.I type as I stride over to Rab, and then I grab him by the bristly chin.

“Do you have men on Nevaeh Ellis?”

His brow furrows. “Who?”

Heavy gives me the eye. I’m off-script. We agreed to save this line of questioning for after we got a location on Knocker.

“Do you have anyone on Lou Ellis’ house?” I dig my fingers into his jaw as I pull my revolver from my waistband with my other hand, cock it, and press the muzzle to his forehead.

“What the fuck are you talking about, man?” Rab’s voice wavers, an octave higher.

“Brother.” Heavy shakes his head.

“Talk.”

“I don’t know no Ellis. No Lou or whoever you’re talking about.”

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