Chapter 10

This can't be happening again.No way did I put myself out there with a guy, suck Iggie's dick in an alley, and now he's ghosting me. It's been a week of me calling and texting with no response, not even a go fuck yourself. Who lets someone suck them like a hoover, agree to be theirs, but as soon as they're given the chance, act like they don't fucking exist?

Pistol and Viper have been my anchors, giving me reasons I shouldn't just show up at his house or work and demand answers. I haven"t told them about how I've been in front of his house every night, watching to make sure he's not with someone else and that he's safe.

Ellie talked me off the ledge from following him to and from work. I know his whereabouts and can be there instantly if something seems off, thanks to the tracker I installed on his car. According to Ellie, if they can't prove I'm the one who installed it, then I'm in the clear. A pair of gloves and no cameras made that easier than getting a club whore to suck me off.

A knock on my door has me sluggishly getting off the bed and heading to see who has the balls to disturb me in my room. Ripping it open, I see Trucker standing there with a shit-eating grin on his face and his left brow cocked. "Ya alright in there?"

"Fine. What do you want?"

"We're all loaded and ready to hit the road. Just waitin' on you, our fearless leader." He wags his brows at me.

This bastard has always been playful and can't read the room to save his life, or maybe he can and just doesn't give a fuck. Either way, he's already on my last nerve. "Let me get my boots on and I'll be there. I want everyone armed and ready for anything. I don't trust those Hellhound bastards for a minute."

"Yes, Prez." He salutes me, throws a wink my way, and saunters down the hall to do as he was told. He may be an annoying fuck, but he's loyal.

I put on my boots and take my piece from the top drawer, slipping it into the inner pocket of my cut. Grabbing two knives, I sheath them inside each of my boots before tugging my jeans down over them so no one is the wiser. When I'm armed and ready, I lock my door and head outside, where everyone is waiting.

"Listen up! I'm goin' to say this once, and you better have your fuckin' listenin' ears on. This run is important. It's one of the largest for the year. We need this to go off without a hitch. Trucker has found the best route. If any of ya spot a Hellhound or anything out of the ordinary, I wanna know ASAP. If we run into Hellhound trouble, we shoot first and ask questions later. And if I find out any of you have been rattin' us out to the enemy, I'll cut your fuckin' eyes and tongue out myself. Are we clear?"

A chorus of yes, Prez rings out, and I nod. "Let's fuckin' get it done, then!" I climb into the driver's seat of my truck and fire it up. Trucker revs his Jeep as he passes me. Viper and Pistol are behind him, leadin' us out of the compound. After Rubble"s semi passes, I follow with the rest of the guys close behind.

During runs like this, Hawk and the prospects remain behind to protect the compound. The old ladies stay home and the whores fend for themselves. Gives them a few days of ‘me' time. The rest of us are on the road making sure these guns get to Michaelov. I'm not wanting to get the bratva on the club's ass. We've been on good terms and I intend to keep us there.

We've been on the road just shy of two hours when my phone vibrates and I glance down at my watch.

Trucker: Trouble ahead. 2 guys on each side of the road. They're in cuts but can't see the logo.

I gritmy teeth so hard I swear I hear one of my molars crack. Fucking cocksuckers! We have a rat, and this proves it. We discussed this route exclusively among the men on the run, and solely in church. With one hand on the wheel, I swiftly swipe a finger across my watch, giving the signal to go to route B.

I then hold my free hand out the window and make a fist, before pointing up to the sky with a finger gun and shaking it twice. The men behind me know to be armed and ready. I see Rubble in one of the semi's side mirrors cock his shotgun, just in case anyone gets too close to the eighteen-wheeler.

We go over a small hill. To them it looks like we're playing a game of chicken, one we could win, but Trucker and I made a contingency plan in case this happened. In a split second, the three vehicles ahead brake and Rubble skillfully maneuvers the truck onto the side road.

Once the semi is on the straightaway, Trucker, Viper, and Pistol gun their engines, following him. The remaining men begin firing at the two men on the road. They go down in a rain of bullets and don't even see it coming. I'm sure just down the road behind them is the rest of the Hellhound MC. It would be their style to leave two men on the roadside, all foreboding and shit. Too bad for them, it got them killed.

I holster my gun and press on the gas to catch back up to Tex, ready to be done with this run already. What more could possibly go wrong?

* * *

The restof the trip was smooth sailing. Despite the detour, we arrived at the meeting point only an hour later than expected and are currently waiting for Michaelov and his men. Once we were in the clear, I sent him a quick text about the delay so he could prepare.

We're sitting in the parking lot of this creepy abandoned high school, twiddling our thumbs. I despise tardiness, and Michaelov knows this. So either he got caught up as well, or he's about to fuck us over. Neither eases my anxiety. The school sits back from the road, surrounded by fields, and looks like it could collapse any minute.

Three stories, all brick with boarded-up windows, like something straight out of a horror movie. I survey the place, my mind whirling with possibilities. The spacious grounds, the huge building, all seem to give me the same thought.

This would make one hell of a compound.

Enough space for all our current members to stay if they need to. Plus, room to grow since we have had an influx of prospects recently.

Twenty minutes later, two silver SUVs pull up, followed by a semi and two more SUVs. Michaelov steps out of the backseat of the second vehicle. With a grin stretching across his features, he slides his sunglasses from his eyes to the pocket of his suit jacket. "Sorry for the delay, my friend. It seems someone has loose lips."

"We had an interruption as well. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you, Michaelov?" I question. It's slightly foolish to provoke the head of the bratva, but no one ever said I wasn't a tad bit deranged.

"Ha! You are a funny one, Steel. I like you. You're not scared of me like you should be." He chuckles, closing the gap between us. "Now, I came here for my guns. Let me see them."

I turn, signaling Rubble to open the trailer to reveal the product. He obliges and in seconds we're standing inside the semi looking into the crates that house Michaelov's merchandise. "I see MK6s, Magnums, and ARs, but where are my RPG 18s? I noted them in the order."

"You didn't ask for no RPGs," I snap at him. I'm not sure what game he's playing, but I'm not falling for it. I personally handled the order, and he didn"t mention anything else.

"Yes, I did, young biker boy. I sent in a change order and added four of them. I believe I spoke to someone who calls themself Snake."

"I ain't no boy. You'd be mindful to remember that. We also don't have anyone named Snake in our club. So I don't know who you called and talked to, but it wasn't us. If you want to place another order, I can have it ready for you in three weeks."

A creepy smile takes over his face, and a split second later, he has his pistol directed straight at my face. "I want what I ordered."

I pull my gun and point it back at him and we stand there in the semi at a standoff. I hear the rest of our men all cocking their weapons, and I know if one motherfucker gets a twitchy finger, it's gonna be a bloodbath.

"Michaelov, I ain't ever done you dirty. I'm tellin' you, there ain't no one called Snake in my club."

"I'm telling you, I know who I contacted and talked to. I'm sure you didn't send those other filthy bikers to interrupt my convoy either, huh?" His eyes narrow and the vein in his neck throbs.

"Their cuts have a wolf"s head surrounded by a gaudy ass orange flame?" I ask.

"Yes."

"That's who delayed us as well. They call themselves the Hellhounds. We have nothin' to do with them, minus them bein' a pain in my damn ass," I answer him honestly.

"Well, it seems one of us has a leak. I don't like leaks. They cause damage and I don't care for the cleanup. So what do we do?" He taps a finger on his chin with his free hand.

My phone rings, startling me. I kept my phone on silent, except for Iggie. Call me crazy or fucked up. I don't care. I've been called far worse. I reach into my pocket and pull my phone out, hitting the answer button before holding it to my ear.

"Iggie. Is everything okay? I haven't heard from you."

"Yeah. I feel stupid now that you actually answered, but I have news and no one to share it with."

"What did I tell you about calling yourself names?" I growl.

"Are you talking on the pho?—"

"Ssshhh." I hold a finger up to my mouth, shushing Michaelov. "I've been waitin' for this call and you ain't fuckin' it up."

"Crazy, fucking American biker," he murmurs.

"I'm sorry, Steel, are you busy? I can call back later or you know what, just forget it."

"No! I'm not busy. Not with anything important, anyway. So tell me your news."

"Well, today, Barron, the CEO of Howards, came and spoke with me and I got that position I told you about. The philanthropy manager? I got it!"

"That's amazin', baby. I'm so proud of you. We should celebrate," I tell him, and an idea begins to form in my head. "Will you let me celebrate with you?"

"Y-y-yeah."

"Okay, let me handle what I'm doing and I'll text you. This time, answer me, Ignatius, or I'll be forced to take more drastic measures." He doesn't respond, just sighs, and I hang up, sliding the phone back into my pocket. "Now where were we?"

"You really took a call while I have my gun aimed at your skull? While my men have theirs on you and your men? Krāzē."

"It was important. Plus, I heard you loud and clear. One of us has a leak. I agree, especially since two runs involving you have been interrupted. I'll get you your RPGs and we will clean up our organization. Sound fair?"

"Indeed." We drop our guns and slip them back into their hiding spots. Our men follow suit. "As always, Steel, it's been fun. I'll be in touch."

Michaelov whistles for his men to load the product onto their truck, while my men and I stand guard. When they finish, I shake hands with Michaelov and we head to our respective vehicles, leaving the school grounds.

I drive for about twenty minutes before using Bluetooth to call Pistol.

"Steel."

"We have a rat and I wanna know who it is and fast," I bark.

"I know. Anyone you can rule out right away to help me investigate?"

"Trucker, Viper, Zero, and Hawk. We vetted them ourselves and they've been with us since the beginning. I trust them. No one else. If we need eyes and ears where we can't go, ask Kiki. Don't tell her what's goin' on, just ask her to keep her ears on the ground and report back to you."

"And what are you gonna do?"

"I have a plan to put into motion." I smile at the mere thought of it.

"This have anything to do with the call you took with a bratva pistol in your face? Quite the move, Steel. You crazy fucking bastard."

"Sure does. Now find me my rat. I made a promise I'd take their eyes and tongue and I intend to stick to that." I hang up and floor my truck. I have a list to make, some errands to run, and only a week to pull everything together.