Page 50 of Property of Max
“Moving on,” Spike says, flipping through his notes. “Max, how’s Mike doing with the tattoo shop?”
“Business is good,” I answer. “Mike hired a new artist and plans to get a piercing license next month.”
“Tank, the new chapter?” Spike asks, moving on with no questions.
“The foundation’s in place and Runner’s choosing officers this week,” Tank replies. “I floated Cushion as VP just now.”
“Any groups over there we should worry about?” Spike presses.
“Runner says there’s a small gang, but he’s not concerned,” Tank says.
“Good. Keep me updated.” Spike rubs his jaw. “We’ve got a break on runs for a few weeks, but there’s a shipment of guns already cleaned that needs moving out of our territory. Knuckles, Crusher, you two run that op. Three buyers are lined up. Give the lot to the one least likely to use it against innocents. I don’t care if they pay less. They have until Saturday to pick it up; after that, the price doubles.”
The men nod, and Spike shifts to the next order of business.
“Abigail’s shop opens soon,” he says with a heavy sigh. “She says she’s ready, but that doesn’t stop me from worrying she’s pushing too hard. I want someone watching her at all times.”
“No prospects,” Tank cuts in. “She needs someone who knows what the fuck they’re doing, not some kid looking to earn a patch.”
“Security’s already up and running,” Foster calls from his corner without looking away from his screens. “Inside, outside.Every angle’s covered. Only blind spots are the dressing rooms and the bathroom, for obvious reasons.”
“Bones, I want you to assign her guards,” Spike orders. “Only men you’d trust with the lives of our women.”
Bones gives a single nod, stoic as ever, but says nothing.
“Speaking of the women…” Maverick leans back, one brow arched. “Arrested for assault?”
Skip bursts out laughing, the sound filling the war room. I lower my head, hiding my smirk.
“And they’re still not talking to you,” Skip says once he gets control of himself. “Any of you. Me, though? I’ve earned my way back into their good graces. You know…because I’m not a bag of dicks.”
“Fuck you, Skip,” Bones growls, frustration bleeding through. Sunny’s silence is cutting him deeper than he’ll admit.
“Yeah,” Tank mutters, glaring at Skip. “We really fucked that one up.”
“Hey, don’t put this on me.” Skip throws his hands up. “I went against you all from the start. Cody came to us begging for help for his friend, and we turned him down. Left her to deal with that asshole boss on her own. And what happened?” He jerks his chin toward the door. “Our women turned into ball-kicking vigilantes while we sat on our asses.”
His smirk sharpens. “Now Lila’s Max’s woman. A Shadow. So, tell me…what’s your plan now?”
“She’s family,” Spike says, his voice hard enough to nail the words into the table. The room goes quiet because everyone knows what he means. Lila isn’t just Cody’s friend anymore. She’s under the Shadows’ protection. And by the way they’ve all clocked the shift in my mood this past week; they know she’s mine, too.
Taking her to lunch every day has been the only part of my life lately that feels clean. Real. Worth holding on to.
Spike leans back, gaze sweeping the table. “We were already going to reach out and offer our help, if she’ll accept it. Nothing changes in that department. But, now that she’s family, she’s a top priority. We’ll do whatever it takes to keep her and those kids safe.”
“I can have someone scare the life out of her boss,” Maverick offers. “I know a guy.”
“It’s already handled,” Foster says before I can open my mouth. “Max and I have been on Gumphrey’s ass since the day Lila came in.”
“That’s on me, Spike,” I cut in before he can rip Foster apart. “I know the consensus was to stay out of it, but I just couldn’t do that. I knew she was something special to me the moment I met her a week before she came here. I promise nothing I do will bring heat back on the club.”
“Nothingwedo,” Foster corrects, shooting me a glare from across the table.
“Foster’s right,” Spike says, voice heavy with frustration. “We’ve been so worried about the feds busting down our door that we’d rather let some asshole abuse a woman than risk attention. And now my wife won’t even speak to me. Can’t say I blame her.”
“I still think it’s a stupid idea,” Knuckles mutters.
“No one gives a fuck what you think,” Skip fires back, eyes sharp. “What’s your problem, man? You’ve been nothing but a sour bastard for weeks.”
