“You got a minute?”
“Yeah.” Prez looked up from his paperwork just long enough for him to gesture for me to come into his office. “Come on in.”
I nodded, then stepped into the room. His office smelled like leather and cigar smoke. It was a scent so familiar it felt like a second skin. Preacher sat behind his desk with his massive frame leaning back in his chair and a cigar clamped between his teeth.
As soon as I was seated, he removed the cigar from his mouth and asked, “What’s on your mind?”
“The upcoming run.”
“Okay,” he replied, leaning forward and resting his forearms on the desk. His eyes burned with the intensity he always carried when it came to business. “What about it?”
“Demand for the shrooms has been higher than we expected. Maybe it was the holidays, or maybe it’s just really good shit. Either way, if we stick to the original schedule, we’ll be out before the next shipment gets here.”
“How much faster are we talking?”
“A week, maybe less.”
He stubbed out his cigar in the ashtray as he grumbled, “Damn.”
Prez had a lot on his plate. Not only did he have a club to run, but his ex ol’ lady had been staying at the clubhouse. She’d run into some trouble when her husband double-crossed some of his work clients. He stole their money, and they didn’t take too kindly to it. They came after him, and when they couldn’t track him down, they came after her.
Under different circumstances, Preacher might’ve told her that he was sorry about her luck, but Kay was Memphis’ mother. And seeing that Memphis was his only living son, he knew he couldn’t turn his back on her. They’d had some fiery moments—some hot enough to make you wonder if there were still some sparks between them.
Preacher would never admit it, at least not to one of us, but I could tell that the whole thing had been weighing on him. I hated to add more to his plate, so I said, “I know it’s a hassle, but we can’t afford to go dry. Customers will start looking elsewhere when we can’t deliver.”
“I’ll put a call into Viper and see if they can move up the date for pick up.”
“Need to discuss upping the shipment while you’re at it. The demand is high, and it’s only gonna grow. We need to make sure we stay ahead of the game.”
He didn’t respond. He just sat there and took a moment to think things over. I understood his hesitation. Upping the load meant more risk. Bigger hauls drew more attention, and the cops in Nashville weren’t exactly on the payroll. Prez gave me one of his looks as he asked, “What are we gonna need to do to make it happen?”
“We’ll need a little more muscle on the ground. Ghost and Memphis can handle the lead with Skid and Smitty, and thenRusty and Goose can follow behind as backup. Maybe even Dagger if he’s available.”
“And the route?”
“Going up there is one thing. Coming back fully loaded is another. Going to need to make some adjustments,” I said. “More back roads and will need to steer clear of the interstate. I’ll see if Shep can find us a better route back.”
“Handle it.”
I nodded, then stood and started for the door. As I started down the hall, I felt the weight of responsibility settling on my shoulders. It wasn’t a new feeling. I’d felt it many times before, especially when it came to the club and our livelihood. But it was what I’d signed up for.
I knew from the start that being the club’s sergeant-at-arms wasn’t just about carrying some title or keeping my brothers in line. It was about loyalty and sacrifice. It was doing whatever it took to protect the life we’d built. The weight of my decisions had kept me up at night, and I’d taken hits that most wouldn’t recover from.
But I’d do it all again and more for my brothers.
They were my family, and if it ever came down to it, I wouldn’t hesitate to take a bullet for any one of them, and they’d do the same for me.
When I walked into Shep’s office, I was hit with the faint scent of coffee and stale cigarette smoke—a smell that seemed to have seeped into the walls over the years. He was the club’s hacker and the only one I trusted to find the best alternate route to the Manor and back.
The flickering light from the monitors reflected off Shep's glasses, which made him look more like a mad scientist than a badass computer hacker. He was focused on his screen and completely oblivious that I was watching him from the doorway. I cleared my throat and said, “Hey, Shep. Got a minute?”
Shep’s fingers never stopped moving across the keys as he looked up and answered, “Sure thing. What’s up?”
“We’re making some changes to next week’s run…”
I took a moment to give him the same spiel about our quickly diminishing inventory I’d given Preacher, and it didn’t take him long to figure out why I’d come to him. “You need me to find a safer route to the Manor.”
“I do, but I don’t want to add a lot of time to the run. The faster we get there, the better—but I need a back road, something under the radar that won’t draw any unwanted attention.”