Page 17 of Stranger Gifts

“Me,” said Trak.

“Damnit, Trak! You can’t do it all,” said Nine.

“Yes, I can. Besides, Alvin said the bison would like the opportunity to trample some things. They are getting itchy.”

“Itchy? Fucking itchy? And just how do we transport the bison?” he frowned. Trak stared at him, shaking his head.

“They know how to walk.”

CHAPTER TEN

“I think your gifts are patience,” smirked Kane, looking at the senior leaders.

“You have no idea, brother,” said Ian.

“I’ll say it again, your team is remarkable. It’s only been a few weeks and they’ve already figured out a way to modify that netting for Juan. That’s a genius that even I can’t comprehend.”

“We’re lucky,” nodded Gaspar. “My parents are beyond ordinary or extraordinary. They’re, celestial.”

“Funny,” smirked Nine. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you describe your mother as celestial.”

“Well, I’m getting older and appreciate her more every day.” He smiled at them, then noticed that Hawke and Hawk were walking toward him. “Hey, what’s up.”

“Well, we’ve been trying to figure out some ways to distinguish between the two of us. I’ll continue to use Hawk, and he’ll be known as Hawke-bird. It seems an easy resolution,” smiled Hawk.

“Alright. Hawke-bird. I like that,” nodded Gaspar. “Any chance Hawke-bird could find a way to join our drones and look for the Flaming Skulls.”

“I believe you have a falcon on the island. We’ve become great friends,” he smiled.

“You’ve used him, I mean been in his head, or whatever?” asked Gaspar.

“Your father asked if I could give him a, um, birds-eye view of some islands to the east. I think he owns them and wants to build on them.”

“Of course, he does,” laughed Nine. “Of course, he does.”

“Well, what did you find?” asked Killer.

“Nothing,” said the man shuffling from one foot to the other. “There was nothing there.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” he said standing to move toward the younger man. “We were there! We saw those fucking bikes and those old assholes. I want to know everything they’re doing!”

“We know, Killer, but I’m telling you. It wasn’t there. It’s like they leveled the ground and moved on.” He shook his head, fuming at the thought of it.

“A business like theirs doesn’t just move on. They own that land and they own that bike shop. They wouldn’t move because of us. They’re not those kind of men. I could tell.”

Pacing the long space he stared at the men seated around him. More than a hundred men here, two-hundred more at his fingertips. They were fast becoming the strongest and most powerful motorcycle club in the world. No one was going to fuck with them.

He had men in the wings ready to take over public office. Dressed in their business suits, their tattoos covered, they were pretending to be honest, good citizens while secretly trading drugs for bodies, killing men and women who dared to defy them.

In the corner of the room were seven young women, barely clothed, barely fed, but used to the delight of he and his men. One of them served a particular purpose. As long as she was alive, her father would do as he was told.

“Speak of the devil,” he mumbled to himself as two men walked in with Sam Bolchek. “Why is he here?”

Sam looked into the corner, seeing his daughter looking terrified and abused. It was breaking his soul.

“Someone killed Dip,” said the man.

“Say what?” frowned Killer.

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