Page 45 of Rio's Release

I dig a card out of my pocket and hold it out to her with two fingers. “You ever need help, give us a call.”

She’s still keeping her distance, though.

“I’ll stick it under your wiper.” Walking to the front of her car, I jam in the card with our club’s logo and the clubhouse phone number. Then I return to my bike.

“What was that about?” Zig asks.

“Just spreading a little good will amongst the townies. Nothing beats word of mouth.” I fire up my bike, and we all roar onto the road.

In my rearview mirror, I see the woman slip the card free and read it, then glance at our retreating bikes. The corner of my mouth lifts. This is just the beginning of my plan.

We hit town, and my first stop is the diner, where I saw one of the deputies shaking down the owner that first day.

Backing our bikes to the curb, we dismount.

“Zig is with me. The rest of you wait here,” I order.

He follows me in, and conversation stops when we come through the door. All heads turn our way, eyes sweeping over us.

I’m greeted by the same waitress who waited on us the first time I was here.

“Hey,” she whispers, her gaze taking in my cut.

“Need to see Dolly, sweetheart. Can you get her?”

“Sure,” she squeaks, retreating to the kitchen and reappearing with the woman in tow a moment later.

“Can I help you?” Dolly asks, her chin held high.

“No, but I can help you. From now on, those deputies won’t be coming by for anymore envelopes full of cash.”

“No?” She frowns. “And why is that?”

I tilt my head. “How much did they take a week?”

“Three hundred if it’s any of your business.”

“From now on, you’re going to pay us to keep the cops off your back.”

“I pay you or them; what’s the damn difference?”

“About fifty percent. We’ll only take half what you were paying before.”

“How do I know those boys won’t be by tomorrow to get their three-hundred?”

“I’m giving my word. I’ll give you a week to see the truth of what I’m saying.” I hold out one of our cards. “Tape this on the window to show you’re under our protection. They give you any kind of hassle, call that number. We’ll take care of it.”

“And your word is supposed to mean something?”

“You’re going to find out that it means everything.” I turn, take in the customers and go from table to table, passing out cards. “That goes for everyone in this town. If the cops hassle you or your wives or your teenagers, you call us.”

There’s skepticism on many of their faces, but I know they’ll learn the truth soon enough.

I stride outside with Zig at my heels.

“You plan on giving every person in town a fucking card, we’re gonna need more cards, boss,” Zig scoffs.

I scan the street. “We’re gonna need to show them we mean business.”

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