Page 14 of Wild Side
Because if I don’t right now, I don’t think I ever will. I’m pretty sure I will book that plane home and just pretend this baby was an immaculate conception.
MAVERICK
My phone rings, and I slide my thumb across the screen.
It’s Bullet.
I didn’t sleep great last night. I tossed and turned, my mind spinning a million miles an hour as I thought about Zadie, the club, and the future of the shop on repeat. Over and over, a cycle that seemed to never end.
This morning, I woke up, got dressed, and grabbed a cigarette and a breakfast burrito. Neither of which calmed me down in the slightest. Grabbing a black coffee, I decide there is no calming me down, so what the fuck does it matter anyway?
“Mav,” I announce as I greet Bullet.
He doesn’t say anything immediately. Instead, he’s quiet, and I wait in that silence, although it feels uncomfortable. He wants to tell me something, say something, but he’s not saying it, which makes me think I’m not going to like it.
“This is something we need to hold church on and vote.”
“I’m telling you right now,” I say, then spit on the sidewalk before I continue. “This isn’t going to get any better. I don’t think there’s any way around this other than paying. And we pay now, it’s going to eat our entire profit, and we might as well be in fucking aboveboard retail.”
He hums, then clears his throat. “I know,” he agrees. I’m surprised he does and even more surprised when he continues. “This was Shade’s thing. I am ready for a change, and I think everyone else is, too. The world of surveillance and the equipment is not the way it was twenty years ago. We need a change. Come back to town.”
This was Shade’s shit, and after the bullshit with the Bloodhound MC, I am surprised Bullet is ready to walk away so easily. Sure, we bested the Bloodhounds, but that doesn’t mean we aren’t being watched and no one is taking note of every fucking move we make.
It just seems like too much of a liability, or maybe that’s just because I’m ready to be done with the whole thing. Most of the guys don’t want to work down at the storefront, the rest don’t want to do the heavy lifting of the merchandise, and then there are the others who disappear anytime we ask for any kind of help down there.
Basically, it’s the same few of us working, and it’s getting really fucking old. They’re all doing the bare minimum and nothing else. To be honest, I can’t blame them, but on the other hand, they need to be doing more.
We all do.
Shade is gone, and the rut we’ve found ourselves in as a club is not acceptable. “You got a plan?” I ask.
“I’ve got a couple different ideas. I want to throw them out there, but I also needed to know what the fuck I was dealing with.”
“You’re dealing with a fuck who does not want to work with us. He’s attempting to extort us, and I, for one, am not going to just lie down and hand over the club’s wallet because he wants it.”
Bullet chuckles. “I appreciate the loyalty and the take-not-shit attitude.”
“Surprised?” I ask.
He doesn’t speak, but he does clear his throat again, almost as if he’s trying to give himself a moment to actually think of the words he wants to say. Because I have no doubt he’s choosing his words wisely.
“I am and I’m not. I’m surprised you’re there alone and that you’re so passionate about this. I’m not surprised you’re ready for a change.”
I don’t respond to his observation. I’m not sure I’m ready yet. If I did, I would have to talk to him about why I’m here alone and my feelings. That’s not something I really want to get into at the moment.
“I’m going to take care of something here. I’ll be back in less than six hours.”
Thankfully, Bullet doesn’t ask me any details, and I don’t offer them, either. Ending the call, I shove my phone in my pocket and make my way straight for the Alexander residence. Kyle Alexander thought he was going to talk some shit to me and walk away with a smirk on his face.
He thought fucking wrong.
CHAPTER SIX
ZADIE
Pulling up to the gate,I watch as a man walks out of a small shack. It’s nothing more than a flat roof and four walls, likely thrown together by one of the guys. It doesn’t even look like it would hold up in a rainstorm, and yet, here it is.
The man approaches my window, and I roll it down, tilting my head back to look up at him. He looks like every guy I’ve grown up with. Faded jeans, tight T-shirt, leather cut, hair a little too long, and a face that hasn’t been shaved in at least three days, if not a week.
