Page 33 of Outlaws' Dirty Secret

Fortunately, I don’t have to.

Hellfire sits up, murder in his eyes. “You’re new, so let me get you up to speed. Three years ago I took over this club because our former president was assassinated by a guy who wanted the job I have now. I won’t bore you with the details, but we expanded too much, too fast and paid the fucking price in blood. I’m the one sitting here today because I weighed the loyalty of every single fucking man in my operation and put down the traitors personally.”

That day is still etched in my memory, as it is for all of us that were there. The sound of his boots on the floor of the old gym. The look on Bonnie’s face as she stared down the man responsible for General’s death. The blood on the floor when the purge was complete.

It wasn’t pretty, but it cemented the club together under Hellfire’s lead in a way that nothing else could have.

Chafik leans back with a predatory smile. “Which is exactly why I’d rather have you with me than against me. I did my research before taking over the mess you made of Victor’s operation. I hope for my sake that your suspicions are unfounded, but I’llfield an internal investigation. As for you, I would very much appreciate it if you continue to follow your own leads. Should you uncover something, I’ll make sure our next arrangement is well rewarded.”

I don’t like this fucker. He looks at us like useful but violent dogs. We took out his predecessor. If we do the same to him, maybe the third guy would be an improvement. Eventually, someone would learn, right? At least this guy's just a self-important asshole, not a fucking supervillain.

“We'll be in touch,” Hellfire says, as he stands up, ending the meeting. “Come on, boys.”

As we're getting on our bikes on the black marble roundabout in front of the main building—which must be fucking hell when it rains—Hellfire rolls his wheels up next to mine. “You did good in there.”

“I was worried it was gonna come to shots, to be fucking honest. I wanted to punch his smug, fucking mouth.”

“We all did, man. It’s hard to find the balance between being diplomatic and making sure they know they can't fuck with us. He’s more nervous than he lets on. He was a small fish back home, and you’re right. There’s no way to expand as fast as he has without taking risks.” Hellfire nods, then fires up his engine.

A few moments later, we’re roaring down his fancy front drive. The ride back takes nearly an hour, and it’s nice to get the time with nothing but my own thoughts to deal with. When we roll into the clubhouse. Me, Dragon and Blackout park next to each other off to the side while Hellfire and Savage head straight for the church, probably to go over what just happened.

Blackout grins. “Nice job, mister officer man.”

“Shut the fuck up.” I give him a shove, but I'm laughing.

“Nah, you did good. I know you weren’t sure you wanted the responsibility, but I can’t think of anyone I’d rather follow. Besides, you’ve got less of a stick up your ass than Ghost.”

“He’s right behind you,” Dragon says deadpan.

Blackout spins, cursing when he finds nobody there. “Asshole. Since when do you have a fucking sense of humor?”

“Since Willow showed up.” I laugh at the glare Dragon sends my way. “Relax, brother. I’m going to go gather a few of the boys and then we can go pay a visit to the Diamond Club. Trouble’s still brewing. We can celebrate later. I’m sure Willow’s ready for a new lesson or two.”

“I like the sound of that,” Blackout says with a shiteating grin.

18

BLACKOUT

The Diamond Club,like most strip bars, is a fancy name slapped on a shitty hole in the wall. Hidden down a seedy alley downtown, the sign over the door is a neon animation of a girl on a stripper pole with a diamond on top, and her leg flashes back and forth between tucked and extended. Classy as fuck, but it's central, has a liquor license and apparently enough girls that they stay in business.

One sad bouncer stands at the door, scrolling on his phone. He looks up when we get close and he looks really fucking shocked. “You guys, uh… you can go on in.”

“Wait. We’re looking for someone,” I say.

His face goes white.

“Not here to cause trouble.” Probably. “Just tell us if Bone’s around.”

He grimaces, taking a long moment to decide whether it's worth the risk, but then nods. “Try far back, at the tables behind the bar. He usually hangs out there. But you didn’t hear it from me.

Skyhigh pats him on the back. “Excellent, my friend. Thanks.”

We push into the darkness of the club.

There isn’t much to make the place stand out on the inside. It’s dark, the decor is dated and worn, and there’s a woman on stage who looks like she'd rather be doing her taxes. She’s pretty enough, but to me she looks bored. Not that the men sitting next to the stage seem to notice or care. They’re too busy drinking and staring at her tits. Maybe the club has spoiled me, or maybe it’s spending time with Willow, but watching the stripper go through the motions isn’t doing it for me.

Blinking away from the stage, it takes a second for my eyes to adjust to the dim lighting. There are more people here than I thought at first. Mostly men, of course, but some couples, even some ladies on their own sitting at the bar. I’d be willing to put money on most of them being available for a fee. Servers wearing little more than a few strategically placed scraps of cloth move sensually between the tables, taking orders and putting up with getting their asses pinched and smacked as they pass by customers.

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