Page 62 of Blue

“Nate filled us in,” Dash said once Mooky plopped his ass in the vacant chair.

“Seems he’s got footage and will go to court to squash this charge.” Clark shuffled folders around. “Never in my life did I think I’d have to deal with so much fucking paper.”

Curious about what was in the folder, Mooky did his best to see what he could out of his periphery.

“This Holt guy is a problem,” Dash announced.

“Another gift from the Riders,” Prez mumbled.

Mooky shifted his gaze between the two of them. Wait. They weren’t blaming him.

Hope flittered in his chest. He could keep his patches, his cut, his shop. His kids could eat. Clinging to the hint of good news, Mooky felt like an overeager puppy about to piddle on the carpet—hungry for more.

“The long-term plan we had won’t work. Not enough time for that shit. But with all these charges against you on behalf of that dingleberry getting dismissed, will benefit us.” Clark steepled his fingers and rested his chin on them.

The tension in the room hung heavy in the air, but Mooky had the distinct impression he wasn’t the sole cause. So as not to swing the pendulum in his direction, he kept quiet. They hadn’t actually asked him anything.

“I’m just not sure how or how long it will take.” Clark ran his fingers through his hair and yanked it from the ends.

The hope in Mooky’s chest dulled, tampered down by the pressure filling the room. Shit wasn’t resolved. Shit he brought to the table still needed to be handled. Guilt poured over his shoulders and down his back.

“There’s one answer. It’s quick,” Dash said as his gaze shifted between the men.

Mooky’s breath hitched. Quick answers were Mooky’s specialty. He’d handle this like lightning if they gave him the green light to send Officer Assface to Nástrond.

Clark let his hands fall to his sides. “We can’t. There’s no way that will pass at the table.”

Of course not. Mooky actually liked the idea.

“We don’t have to be the ones who do it.” Dash leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

Not as appealing for Mooky. He wanted to avenge Blue, but he had to be responsible. He had to do what was best for everyone. That included his club.

“I don’t want to call in favors,” Clark said.

Back to handling it in-house.

“I’ll do it.” Mooky sat forward with his chin raised. “I caused this mess. I will clean it up. It’s about time I took care of my shit.”

Clark shook his head. “This is club business from the Roughneck Riders.”

“You only did what they voted you to do.” Dash shifted to face Mooky.

Clenching his jaw, Mooky locked eyes with Clark first and then Dash as he spoke. “It doesn’t matter. I was the drill that caused this. I can send him to Nástrond where he belongs. He’s stalking my woman and my fucking kids. It’s the only way to end this.”

Dash sat back.

Clark inhaled audibly. “We still have to vote on it.”

“That’s going to be a lot of heat.” Dash stared straight ahead at nothing as his words filled the room. “Monty don’t like fucking with cops.”

The dark glee of anticipation flickered within Mooky. Whenever there had been talks of drills in the past, he felt that way. There was something exciting about holding someone accountable for their transgressions.

Mooky dipped his chin in a brief nod. “Just need a prospect or two to clean it up. It’ll be as quick and uncomplicated as I can make it.”

Bloody details danced in his mind. How would he do it? So many ways to bring Holt suffering.

“You’ll be the first suspect.” Clark leaned forward over his desk, resting on his elbows.

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