Reaper's Property (21 page)

“We’ve lost three shipments so far,” said
Deke, the Portland president. Horse had spent a lot of time visiting that
charter, and he knew Deke didn’t fuck around when it came to security. If
someone was hijacking their product, things had gotten bad. “Couldn’t figure
out how they were getting their information. Devil’s Jacks aren’t exactly the
brightest assholes in the bunch, but it’s like they’re reading our minds or
something. This last time we caught one. He didn’t talk much, but we searched
his cell and found some contacts. That’s how we learned about your boy.”

“What’d you do with the guy you caught?”
Picnic.

“Got him at a safe house,” Deke replied,
giving a feral smile. “Holding on to him for now. Figured it might be useful to
have him, goddamn bastards are loyal, if nothing else. That’s more than I can
say for this Jensen guy. Business is out of hand, Pic. Why didn’t you take him
out?”

“That’s my fault,” Horse said. “His
sister’s my old lady. The man’s got incredible skills, really thought we’d be
able to turn the situation around and keep using him. Obviously I made a
serious error in judgment.”

“Whole club made that decision,” Duck said.
“Mistake? Maybe. But you go around putting talented people down all the time,
eventually you run out of talent. In this case we fucked up. Could’ve gone the
other way just as easy. And we all know the Jacks have been looking for a way
to move in on us for years. We’d be facing this sooner or later no matter
what.”

There were grunts of agreement all around
the table.

“So how’s he getting his information?”
asked Deke. “That’s the real question here. You know him. What are we missing?”

“I have no idea,” Horse said, shaking his
head. “Hacking? Only explanation I can think of, although it’s a long shot. We
aren’t stupid, not like this shit is on a spreadsheet or something. The other
explanation is a rat.”

The room grew quiet. Then Deke spoke.

“We do business online all the time,
banking, transfers, you name it. Money’s gotta move somehow, can’t do it all in
cash. That’s the reality. Someone could be giving out clues without even
realizing it.”

“Maybe texts or personal emails?” Ruger
piped up. “We all got burners for business, but we’ve got personal phones too.
Email. All that shit. Can’t get by without it and I’m thinkin’ someone’s gotten
sloppy. Could even be a kid or a woman, no idea what they’re doing. We need to
lock information down, take it from there and see what happens.”

“Marie’s upstairs trying to get in touch
with him,” Horse said. “I gave it to her straight. She knows this is serious.
If she finds him, she’ll let me know.”

“Can we trust her?” asked Picnic,
scratching his chin. He looked tired. “You know I like her, but shit like this
would fuck with anyone and she’s new to the club. She might tip him off.”

“Even if she tips him off, that’s better
than letting things stand,” said Max, surprising Horse. “She tells him he’s
putting her in danger, he might back down. He’s doing this because he’s scared
and he’s trying to help her. Must not’ve been able to pull the money together
so he’s playing a new game. I’ll bet he has no idea the shit storm he’s
creating.”

“I’m keeping her here until this is
handled,” Horse said. “She’s up in the back apartment. Anyone have a problem
with that?”

Picnic rolled his eyes, and Ruger shook his
head. Deke laughed and pulled out a knife, picking at his fingernail with it.

“Got no problem with that, brother,” he
said. “She’s club property. We don’t share with anyone, don’t care how or why
they want her. It’s about all of us now.”

Horse felt the tension in his chest loosen.
He knew Jeff wouldn’t harm her, but the Jacks? He’d seen what they could do to
a woman.

“We still owe those cocksuckers for Gracie,”
Deke added, his face grim. “I know we took action, but I still say it wasn’t
enough. We need to show them who owns this land, throw their asses so far out
of our territory that the fall back to earth kills ’em. We stop Jensen, great.
But I think we should consider taking the fight to them, finish what we started
ten years ago. I don’t give a shit about this guy, I want to take them down.”

“Fuck yeah,” muttered one of the Portland
guys. Horse nodded, understanding. The Oregon charters had suffered over the
years and a threat to one of the club’s women would hit them harder than most.
He didn’t want war, but if it came he wouldn’t be holding back. They owed the
Jacks for a lot of things.

“So here’s how I’m seeing it,” Picnic said.
“We reach out to all the charters, in person. Tell them to get ready. Make sure
their information is locked up tight. New phones, new codes. Women and children
taking safety precautions. Marie may be the one with the bounty on her head,
but they’re all vulnerable. Might wanna consider bringing them in for the
duration, especially you guys down south. You think Marie can make contact with
him?”

“Yeah,” Horse replied. “She’s got an email.
He’s a smart little fuck, he’ll be waiting for her to reach out. Might be able
to use him to feed the Jacks information, offer him a way out. We have a
shipment we can afford to give up for an ambush?”

“We got something coming through in a
couple of weeks,” said Grenade, the LeGrande charter’s VP. “You leak it, we can
set things up. Might not be bad to hit them back at the same time. Send some
boys down to Cali, raid ’em while we ambush up here.”

“Not a bad idea,” Picnic mused. “Guys from
Roseburg could do it. Thoughts?”

“I like the idea of turning him,” Deke
replied. “Take it from there. I don’t want to send men down unless we’re sure
we’ll catch the Jacks off guard. Could be a bloodbath otherwise.”

“That settles it then,” Picnic said. “We
need a vote? Any opposed?”

Nobody spoke.

“All in favor.”

Assorted “ayes” echoed around the room.

“That’s settled then,” said Picnic. “You
guys staying tonight? Got the girls pulling together food and shit already.”

“Sounds good,” Deke said, grinning. “Eat
and drink while you can, boys. Got work to do tomorrow. Fuck with us and we
will fuck you back!”

“Hell yeah!” someone yelled.

Church was over. Time to party.

Horse didn’t plan on
getting drunk, but it felt good to kick back with his brothers. Em’d brought
shit for Marie, which he took upstairs after church. He’d grabbed her some
pizza and a couple of beers too, and spent half an hour sitting with her. But
she didn’t look at him, didn’t kiss him back when he’d tried to get close, so
he figured she needed some space. Hell of a lot to process, he got that.

Downstairs things were getting crazy—always
the case when charters got together, particularly when blood was in the air.
Didn’t get much bloodier than the Devil’s Jacks. Tonight wasn’t a family party
either, something Picnic made clear when he sent Em packing after she dropped
off Marie’s things. Horse grinned, thinking of her. Poor kid, at this rate
she’d be fifty before she found a man.

As he sauntered into the main lounge, a
girl wearing a miniskirt and thigh-high fishnets, along with a bikini top so
small it defied physics, brought him a beer, reaching around his waist and
rubbing her boobs against his arm. Some chick from the Line, he couldn’t
remember her name. He gave her a pat on the ass, then shrugged her off. Sweet
butts and strippers, place was crawling with them, hospitality for the visiting
brothers. Horse chugged the beer and handed the cup to another girl as she
walked by. He wanted a word with Ruger before things got too crazy.

The man wasn’t in the main lounge or the
meeting room, so Horse headed back toward the office. They kept their records
there, at least the official ones, and Horse stored the legitimate business
accounts there too. It was convenient and would make things efficient if they
ever got served with a warrant. Just for fun, he’d filled a couple lockboxes
with shady-looking paperwork and decoy overseas account numbers—he liked the
idea of some cop blowing his wad if he found them, then spending months trying
to put it all together. Horse opened the door to find Picnic pounding into a
woman face down on the desk, his pants around his ankles, her hair pulled back
like reins.

“Getting an early start?” Horse asked,
smirking. “No wonder you wanted Em the hell out of here. You’re a perv, you
know that?”

“Get the fuck out unless someone’s shooting
at us,” Picnic grumbled and Horse laughed, closing the door and heading back
toward the shop. Ruger was a hell of a gunsmith and he did his most sensitive
work back there, away from any curious eyes at the gun shop. If the visiting
boys needed hardware, that’s where they’d find it. Horse threw open the door
and saw Ruger at his bench, holding up a fully automated assault rifle, one of
his specialties. Several of the brothers stood around, talking shit, while one
of the Portland men reached for the gun.

“It’s a thing of beauty, but not exactly
practical,” he said, laughing as he hefted it. “Can’t see this in my
saddlebags. Like something out of Thunderdome.”

“Yeah, I know,” Ruger replied. “But these
dumb-fuck militia dicks can’t get enough of ’em. Think they’re all Rambo or
something. ‘Master race’, my ass, I make a fortune off those idiots.”

“Ruger, got a minute?” Horse asked. Ruger
ambled on over.

“What’s up?”

“Marie’s upstairs, and I’m thinking about
security for the next few days,” Horse said. “You got any thoughts on that? I
know manpower’s limited, and I’m wondering if we wanted to rig up any extra
precautions.”

“Already ahead of you,” Ruger said,
flashing a smile. He flicked his lip ring with his tongue as he grabbed a
laptop from the bench, popping it open. The guy looked scary as hell with his
tats, mohawk, chains and piercings, but around technology he was more like a
little kid at Christmas. Ruger popped open the security control panel for the
clubhouse on the laptop, and he clicked on a multicolored layout of the armory
and surrounding property. “See here? We’ve got the cams and basic motion
sensors, of course, but I’m planning on putting in some new stuff around the
perimeter, right here. We need detection, but I’m also worried about manpower.
I want to rig some traps that we can trigger by computer or phone if we need
to. I know we can’t count on the electronics a hundred percent, but we can only
spread ourselves so thin. This gives us more options.”

“Can we put something outside her room?”
Horse. “I know it’s not a top priority, but I’d like to keep an eye on her.
Just in case they buy off one of the girls or something. This probably won’t
come down to a frontal assault.”

Ruger scratched his head, considering.

“I can rig something up for you,” he said.
“Won’t be until tomorrow. After I fix the guys up back here I’m ready for some
pussy. Speaking of, you sure about yours?”

“You sayin’ I have a pussy?” Horse asked,
crossing his arms and cocking an eyebrow.

“Don’t be an asshole, you know I meant your
girl upstairs. I get that you’re into her. But she knows his life is at stake
and we might be the ones to kill him. You might want to consider the
possibility that she’s working with Jensen on this. She’s only human, Horse.”

Horse shook his head.

“Marie can’t lie for shit,” he replied,
pinching the bridge of his nose, feeling tired. “And even if she was, she
doesn’t know a damn thing. Couldn’t be his source of information.”

“If they’re talking, she wouldn’t have to
be his only source,” Ruger replied, his tone reasonable. “He might be using
her. I don’t think she’s screwing you on purpose—”

“Oh, she’s definitely screwing me on
purpose,” Horse replied, deadpan.

“Fuck you,” Ruger replied, grinning. “You
know what I mean. She’s the victim in this situation and she believes in her
brother. She tells him about your day-to-day life, he puts that together with a
couple other sources, could add up. You don’t tell her about club business, but
she sure as shit knows when we’re on a long run. All the women do. Fuck, for
all we know he’s on Facebook with them or something, pretending to be some
chick they know. You get enough old ladies talking about their men being gone,
it adds up.”

“Shit,” muttered Horse, shaking his head.
“Never thought of that. This is a pain in the ass, you know that?”

“Ya think?” Ruger asked, rubbing a hand
across his tattooed scalp and the short buzz of his mohawk. “So you want
cameras on her. Sure you don’t want something inside the room too?”

“Nope, don’t want your sick ass watching us
fuck,” Horse replied. “But I do want to check on her, make sure nobody’s
lingering, trying to get to her. You know what I mean? Oh, and a GPS on her
car. Want to be able to find her. Make sure she doesn’t see you, want to keep
her safe, not freak her out more.”

“I’ll do it tomorrow. Right now I need
someone sucking my dick, and unless you’re planning to share your old lady, I
got higher priorities than this conversation.”

Ruger grinned and Horse laughed, putting a
hand on his shoulder and squeezing it hard enough to leave marks.

“Touch Marie and I’ll cut off your balls.”

“Yeah, right,” Ruger replied. “So much for
taking care of your brothers, you cock-blocking bastard. Talk to me tomorrow
and I’ll set it up to feed to your phone, along with the computers.”

“Thanks, man,” Horse said.

The party was raging back in the main
lounge. Two girls were bumping and grinding each other up on one end of the
bar, and a third served up body shots in the middle. Duck, the filthy old
pervert, sat back on a couch with a barely legal redhead eating out his mouth
with her hand thrust down between them, working furiously. Picnic caught
Horse’s eye across the room, apparently finished with his important business in
the office. The man gave a chin jerk, inviting Horse to join the Portland and
LeGrande officers at his table.