Page 14 of Smooth Sailing

He’d been called in.

He walked through the door to the meet room and was surprised, though also not, when Rush and Big Petey were the only ones sitting at the big table with the Chaos flag enshrined under a Plexiglas top.

Rush, because Rush was the president, and he was involved in everything the Club did.

Pete, because Pete had been trying to fashion himself as some kind of dad-like dude to Hugger since Hugger signed on to recruit.

Hugger didn’t have a problem with this. Pete was a good man.

But he didn’t encourage it.

This wasn’t about Club family dynamics.

This was something else.

Not many of the brothers weren’t in to do what needed to get done when the Resurrection MC, another Denver club (also known as the Angels of Vengeance, a name they earned in a number of ways, they were further known as the Angels of Death, and the same applied), came calling for assistance with their vigilante missions.

There was a lot of history there, it was tied up with Chaos, he’d learned it all as prospect, and he was in two minds about Resurrection.

What they did that forced them on the never-ending path to seek redemption was something he could never forgive. It didn’t happen to him, and it was well before his time.

Still, he could, and would, never forgive them doing something that entirely fucked up.

But there was no doubt every one of those men was on that never-ending path, and not a one of them would ever stray from it.

So there was that.

He did a chin lift to Rush and Pete, got them in return, and took his seat at the table.

He reckoned he knew what this was about.

When Rush spoke, he found he wasn’t wrong.

“That situation down in Phoenix needs some attention. I talked with Beck. He’s sending down Muzzle and Eightball. They didn’t ask for our assistance, but I’m not feeling the digging that’s getting done by that particular player in the Valley of the Sun. Chaos history that needs to stay buried is getting dredged up. I don’t know what he’s got up his ass about us and Resurrection, but we have links, and he’s making them. I want one of ours down there too.”

“I’m in,” Hugger said straightaway.

Beck was president of Resurrection, also known by his club name, Washington, or Wash. Muzzle and Eight were brothers in that crew.

Rush and Pete shared a glance.

It was Pete who spoke next.

“This guy you’ll be looking into is some serious shit.”

Hugger nodded. “Imran Babic. Bosnian gangster. Has his finger in every pie he can shove it into, as long as it’s unlawful. Also, certifiable. Case in point, he played with the president of the Aces High MC’s old lady.”

“You prove you listen good, but you’ve already proved that,” Pete replied. “But recently, shit has gone south for this guy.”

“No surprise. He lives south, and I don’t mean Arizona,” Hugger returned.

“He’s recently been arrested and made bail, after a brutal rape,” Rush said.

Hugger sat perfectly still.

“She’s messed up. But she pressed charges,” Rush continued. “It’s making him vulnerable. The kind of vulnerable he’ll pull out all the stops to do something about.”

Hugger’s voice was ragged when he forced out, “She got protection?”

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