“Nah,” Parrish says, combing his fingers through his messy hair. “Quit all that shit some time ago.” He reaches into his kutte and produces a handful of toothpicks. Pushing one between his lips, he leans back against his chair.

“Are we going to keep making pleasantries or should we cut to the chase?” he asks, rolling the toothpick between his lips.

“A man of action,” I say, taking another puff of my cigar. “I like it. What can I do for you, Parrish?”

“I don’t know how much you know, but over the last few years, the New York charter has gone a different route and as much as I hate to admit it, it’s been beneficial for all parties. But every good thing must come to an end and the end is drawing near for us.”

I narrow my eyes and flick the ashes of my cigar, waiting for him to elaborate.

“Three days ago, Pipe’s garage got ambushed. They put our vice president in the hospital with a gunshot wound to the belly and took out two of our mechanics.” He pauses and points to Linc. “His woman was there working the office with their toddler.”

That last part has my shoulders straightening.

Another fucking reason having Holly and her kid here is a bad idea.

Linc’s fist closes on the table, catching my attention and I watch as he and Shady exchange a look.

“Fuck,” King hisses. “I’m sorry, man.”

“Do you know who it was?” I ask.

Parrish nods.

“Back when I handed in my patch, I gave up members of the Sinaloa cartel. It appears they’re looking to avenge that shit.” He pauses, swiping a hand over his face. “Look, man, we’re on the brink of a street war, one we didn’t see coming. It’s been a long time since we’ve gone to battle. We’re weary, out of fucking practice, and worst of all, unequipped.

Christ.

“That’ll get you dead,” I say.

“No shit,” Parrish grunts. “Wolf is reaching out to the Bergen County charter. They’ve come to our aid in the past and we still have strong ties to the Pastore Crime family, but, man, it don’t matter how much man power we have, we can’t match their machinery. They’ve got an unlimited supply of ammo just south of the border.”

“Yeah, but how they going to transport that up north?” King questions. “Don’t you and that Pastore guy have control over the docks?”

“Pastore controls what comes in through the Brooklyn terminals. We think they’re working out of Newark. Out of our jurisdiction, man,” Linc supplies.

“Heard you struck a nice deal up in Boston with the Corrupt Bastards,” Parrish adds, forcing my attention back to him.

“News travels fast, huh?” I volley, taking another puff of my cigar.

“Whatever Boston is taking, I’ll take double and pay you triple the price.”

“That’s a lot of cake, Parrish,” I say.

My greedy ass would be all over that, but I can’t meet his demands—not with the Corrupt Bastards taking as much as they are. I’d have to breech my deal with them and that’s bad for the patch.

Blowing out a ring of smoke, I set the cigar in an ashtray and lean over the table. “When do you need the guns by?”

“As soon as possible,” Parrish answers.

“Anything more than a week would be suicide,” Linc adds. “They’ve already struck us once.”

I tear my eyes from Parrish and look at King, silently communicating my concerns.

“I know what I’m asking of you,” Parrish adds and my gaze swings back to him. “I also know you’re the only one who can make this shit happen in a timely fashion because you got what I need on hand.”

“It’s not on hand if it’s promised to someone else,” I correct.

My arrangement with the Corrupt Bastards brings a steady flow of cash to the MC and keeps us above water. I fuck that up, we’re not only taking a hit financially, we’re at war with a rival organization we’ve managed to keep peace with. On the other hand, Parrish bleeds red and black, he’s one of us and he and his brothers have one foot in a grave.