Page 23 of Jameson: Mayhem Makers

“Nothing, just get your ass in here now.”

“Fine, fine. Don’t get your panties in a twist,” my brother retorted.

A smirk curved my lips as my dad frowned. “Hurry the fuck up, Raleigh. I ain’t got all fucking day.”

My father hung up before Raleigh could respond, grumbling under his breath. “You two are going to put me in an early grave.”

I chuckled. Raleigh and I were always getting into trouble growing up, especially being born into a biker family. Crime and danger were part of the lifestyle, and we fully embraced them.

Since we’d become adults, and especially following my grandpa’s death, I’d matured. Slightly. Raleigh still didn’t take much seriously and loved to party. So he pissed off my dad to noend because he didn’t really take on responsibility unless he was forced or had his hand held.

But I could always count on him when it really mattered.

Raleigh showed up about ten minutes later. He looked like he just rolled out of bed, his long hair hastily put up in a messy bun on top of his head. I usually wore my hair in a low ponytail or two braids as a nod to our grandfather.

I assumed he slept at the clubhouse if he arrived so fast after just waking up. “You crash here last night?”

He nodded, stifling a yawn. “So what’s up? What did you call me here for?”

“Remember what I told you about Matteo’s brother and the cartel?”

His brows furrowed. “Vaguely.”

I rolled my eyes and scoffed. “Well, I found our leverage, and I need your help.”

He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the wall, arching a brow. “What leverage?”

“A daughter on the run and on her way here,” I answered.

A smirk curved his lips. “You can’t handle one girl?” he teased.

“There’s a friend with her. And we don’t need her running to the cops when the girl goes missing,” my dad answered.

Raleigh nodded, his features lifting in understanding. “So what’s the plan?”

We brought my brother up to speed on everything, then tried to finalize some of the more important details. “Maybe we should just roofie them,” my brother suggested. “There are always wasted people stumbling around Vegas, so I don’t think that would draw attention.”

For some reason, that didn’t sit well with me. Lucia was innocent in all this, and I felt bad enough taking her hostage toget at her dad. “I don’t think that’s necessary. I’ve got enough game to get her to come home with me.”

He snorted. “You’re confident. You don’t even know her type.”

“A biker is everyone’s type,” I retorted. “We’re a fantasy come to life.”

My dad chuckled. “Don’t get too cocky. Maybe take the roofies just in case you ain’t her type.”

I rolled my eyes. “Fine. But just as a last resort.”

My brother nodded. “And then we bring them back here?”

I shook my head. “No. You bring yours here and I’m taking Lucia to the safe house.”

“Why?” he questioned, brows furrowing in confusion.

“So they don’t try anything. If they’re separated, they can’t try to form an escape plan together,” I answered.

“I guess that makes sense,” he replied with a shrug. “How long do I have to babysit this broad for?”

“As long as it takes,” my dad said gruffly, his tone leaving no room for debate. “Once we have the girl secured, I’ll reach out to Miguel with our terms.”

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