Chapter Seven

SEVERAL LOW WHISTLES went off around the table in the Havlin clubhouse. Jagger slid an AR-15 semi-automatic in front of them and pointed for Bane to pass it around.

Dio leaned over, inspecting the rifle as Bane sighted down the barrel. "No markings?"

Jagger shook his head. "A gift from Moroad Motorcycle Club over in Federal, Idaho."

"It's not Christmas." Maverick leaned back in his chair, letting Cord pass the rifle in front of him to Dio. "Isn't there another MC selling guns in Idaho?"

"Bantorus." Jagger shrugged. "Legal ones."

Dio rubbed the stock. "This one doesn't even have a scratched-out serial."

"It's a blank." Jagger sat back down in the chair. "Moroad supplies the majority of the weapons to the underground."

"Sweet." Cord put the rifle back in front of Jagger. "Nicer than the military."

"This gift is why I called the meeting." Jagger clasped his hands behind his head. "Moroad is expanding but has run out of resources to launder the money from the guns. Since we run security on the pot shops along highway 101. They want to know if we'd like to work with them."

"For how much?" asked Bane.

"Forty percent." Jagger fingered the tip of the barrel.

"No way." Dio shook his head. "They aren't known for sharing, so why offer us that percentage?"

"Because the pot shops are in Havlin territory, and there's nothing Moroad can do about taking that zone away from us." He leaned back in the chair. "Most of them can't leave the state. They only have a handful of men who can cross the line without breaking probation."

Bane scratched his jaw through his beard. "Will we touch the guns?"

Jagger pulled out a cigarette and tapped the filter against the table. "Nope, only the cash. What happens between these four walls remains tight. We already have enough manpower and enough businesses to run cash rolls. Three pot shops alone could handle the cash flow without raising eyebrows, and we are in control of six of them."

"I got another kid coming in three months. Count me in." Rush raised his hand.

"Are the feds after Moroad?" asked Bane.

"Nope." Jagger respected his men for asking the questions. "Not at the moment."

He'd already gone through every scenario. Eventually, something would go wrong. Word would spread. There was a possibility of the federal agents getting involved, not to mention the local P.D. But today was a good time to jump on the new opportunity to bring money into the club.

"There's risks." He thrummed his thumb on the table. "Same as with every job. The moment we slip on the vest in the morning, the odds of living through the day get lower."

Bane looked at the rifle again. "What kind of money are we talking about?"

He flipped over the paper in front of him and slid it to his Vice President. He and Jeremy, the president of Moroad Motorcycle Club, had talked twice over the last month after the other club heard about Los Li's attack on Havlin. That opened the gate for discussing the new business venture with Moroad.

If it were only him, he'd take the deal. But he needed his men's support.

He'd learned from the best how to run the club. His father had written the Havoc-Lincoln Motorcycle Club bylaws.

It'd been twenty years since he lost his old man. Missed the fucker every damn day.

He'd planned on carrying the mother chapter into the future after his dad retired from old age, but that dream ended when he buried his father. As V.P., Hatchet stepped up into the presidential role. By the time Jagger thought about taking over, he knew it was better to branch off from the mother chapter and come to Seaglass Cove.

Beaverton was Katrina's home. She had Jagger's mom to support her. It was better to leave his past behind. Deep down, he knew his dad would've approved.

It was his time to make something out of the Seaglass Cove Chapter.

He let the men talk back and forth. Once everyone had checked out the amount of money written on the paper and realized earning that sum was doable if they all pulled together, he called for a vote.

Going into business with Moroad Motorcycle Club passed unanimously. Havlin was now in the money laundering business.

"Meeting over." He hit the gavel on the table. "There are five more rifles in my room. They go to the officers."

Cheers roared around the table. Jagger grinned. He knew that would make the men happy. As long as they had their Harley, access to women, a never-ending supply of alcohol, and big guns, they were content.

He stepped away from the table. The meeting lasted three hours. With the backdoor of the clubhouse locked, no one could enter.

He had Brett and two newer prospects, Camhead and Trigger, holding down the parts shop. He glanced at the screen of his phone, making sure he hadn't received any calls during the meeting and had somehow missed the vibration.

The call he'd received from Ruger informing him that Katrina would stay in Seaglass Cove for the time being had rocked his foundation. He couldn't run a club and deal with Katrina at the same time.

Nobody had called or texted.

He shoved the cell back in his pocket and headed for the door to the parts shop. As soon as Katrina returned, he'd send her home.

"Prez?" shouted Wire.

He closed the door without walking out and waited for Wire. "What's up?"

"I wanted to let you know Cora invited Katrina to stay at the house." Wire grimaced. "I understand you put a no-touch order out to the club on Katrina at the beginning of the meeting, so I wanted you to know Cora asked her to hang around. She still hopes to get her brother and Katrina to accept her into the family."

"She's staying with you?"

Wire nodded. "Cora offered up the Sprinter."

Fuck. He wanted to hate Ruger for not caring for his daughter but understood Katrina was her own woman.

She was a foul-mouthed, too sexy for her own good, bull-headed woman who would only fight dirty if pushed into a corner. Her favorite person to fight with was him. And, damned if the thought of her fighting to stay here turned him on.

"I've got a couple of jobs lined up this afternoon. Do you need anything before I ride off?" asked Wire.

Wire ran his own company as an electrician and stayed busy when he wasn't working for the club. His loyalties were in the right place, and he had become irreplaceable since moving to Seaglass Cove.

"Nah." He slapped Wire's shoulder. "I've got things covered here, brother."

He stepped into the parts shop, shut the door, picked up the nearest box, and sailed it against the racks. The wild swing of testosterone left him desperate to see Katrina.

"Jesus. What was that?" shouted Brett.

"I'll check it out," said Camhead, the newest prospect.

Exhaling harshly, Jagger schooled his emotions, unflexed his fingers, and walked into their sight. "Take a break. I'll cover the front. Send Link and Dio to the shop to work."

"Dio walked Maverick's kid over to the swimming pool. He said he'd be back after the girl gets her ribbon for passing some swim class." Brett picked up his pack of cigarettes off the counter.

"Find Link, then." He walked over to the computer and studied the screen.

There were orders to fill. That would keep his hands busy before he starts swinging and getting his frustrations out.

Katrina. What the fuck was she doing to him?