Chapter Nineteen

R uger stomped into the clubhouse and threw the duffle on the table. It'd taken him three hours to get into the pot shop and distract the workers while Dio laundered the books and included the money into the gross net of the shop. Over the last two weeks, he'd become one of the money mules for Havlin.

Working with Moroad was an intricate business. Havlin received the dirty money, put it into the pot shops within Havlin territory—the club worked under the table running security for them—and, in return, the pot shops unknowingly, thanks to Dio, paid workers they had no idea were on the payroll with the clean money from the business.

It almost sounded too simple. But the risk was huge.

If caught, he could face ten to twenty years in prison and be penalized for paying back twice as much money as he laundered.

He needed to keep his head. Right now, his freedom was the most important thing he had.

"Stick around." Jagger looked at his phone. "Meeting in fifteen minutes for the officers."

He walked away from the table. The rest of the day had nothing to do with him.

"Ruger. Stay."

He stopped, inhaled deeply, and turned around. He wasn't an officer.

"You'll need to attend the meeting." Jagger passed a stack of papers to Bane. "It won't take long."

He had no other plans, but sitting around listening to the officers' bullshit about club business was at the bottom of his list of things he'd want to do. He approached the table and sat down on the other side, opposite Jagger. The only reason he was staying was because if he went back to the cottage, he'd only end up drinking himself into a coma.

It was how he got through the nights lately.

If he stayed away from the bottle, he only thought about Rachel.

Shady was out of prison, caring for his sister, but it only gave him more to worry about. Shady wasn't going to change his ways. If anything, he would get in more trouble as he tried to adjust to the outside and find ways to bring an income into the family.

But none of that was his problem.

Rachel was home, where she belonged.

Katrina approached Jagger, leaning down and kissing him before running her fingers through his hair. Ruger watched his daughter, looking for any problems, but there were none.

The two of them were comfortable with each other. Even more relaxed than his relationship with Katrina.

He swallowed the bitterness. As much as he was happy for his daughter, he missed out on so fucking much. It would always be one of his biggest regrets. He should've been here, raising her.

Katrina stepped away, spotted him, and frowned. She looked back at Jagger, received a nod, and then walked away from the table and out of the clubhouse. She'd questioned her husband about why her father was attending an officer's meeting and got no answer.

These days, Jagger holds things close to his chest. Sitting in the president's seat suited him well.

The empty chairs were filled. Bane sat beside Jagger. Wire, Dio, Link, and Cord lined one side of the table.

Maverick, not an officer, sat at the end of the table. Ruger scratched his jaw through his beard. The only thing he and Maverick had in common was they both spent a good chunk of their lives in prison.

Jagger looked around the clubhouse, ensuring they were alone, and called the meeting to order.

"Our profits from laundering the money went up twenty-five percent last month." Jagger leaned back in the chair. "With that said, this will be the last month we'll work with Moroad Motorcycle Club."

Bane double-looked at Jagger. Ruger's skin prickled. It was the first time anyone, including the vice president, had heard the news.

"I've already talked to Jeremy." Jagger exhaled harshly. "It's too risky. I've gotten wind of the Feds sniffing around Seaglass Cove. I won't risk any of my men. The Chapter is too young. Our numbers must be up before we take on an operation that will take more than half our membership if we're raided."

"You think someone ratted us out?" asked Bane.

Jagger tapped his thumb against the top of the table. "What I think is the agents are following Los Li. After discussing my suspicions with Moroad MC, we'll lay low until the air clears."

"In the meantime?" asked Wire.

"We wait. We continue running security on the pot shops. We do exactly what we always do." Jagger looked around the table. His gaze landed on Ruger. "I brought you into the meeting because I need to know if there is any reason the Feds are here because of your encounter with Los Li."

He shrugged. He'd thought about it. But it was impossible to find out. Los Li had their fucking hands in a lot of dirt, here and in Mexico.

"If that was the case, they'd be going after an underground crime ring, not Havlin Motorcycle Club," he said.

Jagger's gaze intensified before he dipped his chin and turned his attention to Maverick. "We'll need you on every job for the rest of the month."

Maverick cleared his throat and crossed his arms. Ruger now understood why Maverick was at the meeting. Jagger was covering their asses. If it came down to an attack, Maverick was their man who would do clean up.

"Bane will draw the new crews and get the info out each week." Jagger inhaled deeply. "Watch your backs, and we'll get through the month."

Once the meeting was adjourned, Ruger stepped away from the table and waited until the others left. Then, he approached Jagger.

"Put me on the same crew as Maverick," he said.

"No." Jagger stood from the table. "Your daughter would kill me."

"She'll never know."

Jagger turned to him and lowered his voice. "I won't lose you again."

Ruger looked away from him. "Let me protect you. You've got my grandchild coming. My daughter needs you."

"No."

"Damnit, brother." He grunted. "There's too many people at risk. Even Cora needs Wire to come home. Make up the crews and let me protect them. You know I can do it."

"You've already paid your time."

He held his spot, not going to argue. He wanted to be on the crew that would protect the club. Katrina needed Jagger, and Cora needed Wire. He was the only one he trusted to make sure everyone got home safe at the end of the night.

Maverick had a wife and a kid. Compared to the others, he had no one depending on him, and no one waited for him to come home.

"It's only for the month." He gazed around the room, making sure they were alone. "You owe me that much."

Jagger blew out his cheeks, exhaling slowly. Ruger held his ground. He wasn't going to rub it in Jagger's face every time he turned around and remind him how he'd done time in prison for a crime he hadn't committed, but he needed the job.

He couldn't sit in the cottage, driving himself fucking nuts, wondering how Rachel was doing without him.

She'd go on with her life. He needed to do the same.

"Once we're done working with Moroad, you return to running security." Jagger's gaze hardened. "Don't get killed and make me regret this."

Ruger smacked Jagger in the chest. For the first time since that fateful evening when he got arrested for holding the gun that Jagger had used to kill his father's killer, Ruger felt some of the resentment lift off his shoulders.

Jagger raised his arm. Ruger clasped his hand. They were brothers. Loyalty to the end. No matter what.

The way it used to be before he was incarcerated.