Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

Turmoil

The sleek black Mustang roars to life as I turn the ignition, the rumble of the exhaust shattering the quiet Las Vegas night.

I glance over at Jolt in the passenger seat.

He gives a nod, his face tense as we prepare to leave for our first meeting with Damon and Dixon since we've gone undercover.

"Let's get this over with," I mutter, gripping the leather steering wheel tightly.

My heart pounds in my chest as I pull out of the condominium complex and onto the empty street.

The colorful lights of the Strip twinkle in the distance as we speed down the highway, a stark contrast to the inky darkness stretching out before us.

I can't shake the feeling of unease prickling at the back of my neck.

Something big is going to happen while we're living this lie.

I can feel it.

"You talk to Damon?" Jolt asks, his voice low and gruff. "He say anything about what this meeting's really about?"

I shake my head, jaw clenched. "Nah. Just said to meet him and Dixon at that dive bar outside the city. Gotta keep things on the down low, in case anyone's watching. I'm sure he just wants an update, though."

Silence fills the car for a moment, the only sound is the hum of the engine and the soft crackle of the police scanner.

I reach over to flip it off.

No need to know what the pigs are up to tonight.

We've got enough on our plate already.

My mind races as the miles fly by, replaying my last conversation with Seraphina.

Her sultry voice, enticing me, teasing me, promising things to come...I grit my teeth.

I can't let that bitch get under my skin the way she is.

This is just a job, nothing more.

I need to stay focused, find out her secrets, her plans.

I have to take her and her mother's operation down.

But even as I try to convince myself, I can't ignore the twisting in my gut, the part of me that wonders if I'm getting in too deep.

If I'm not careful, one wrong move could blow this whole thing to shit, and maybe take me and Jolt down with it.

Hell, I love the sex I have with her.

It's mind-blowing, and she's a damn good lay.

I have to tell myself this is like sleeping with a clubwhore.

No attachments, just one goal—get off—or well, two goals.

Get off, and get information.

I tighten my grip on the wheel until my knuckles turn white, the cool metal of my gun digging into my back.

There's no going back now.

Whatever Damon and Dixon have to say, whatever they need us to do...we're in this until the bitter end.

The Mustang's engine growls as I push the pedal to the floor, speeding faster into the darkness.

Within an hour the Mustang rumbles into the parking lot of a run-down dive bar on the outskirts of Carp, kicking up gravel and dust.

A flickering neon sign above the door reads "Sinner's Saloon."

How fitting.

I cut the engine and exchange a glance with Jolt.

His jaw is tight, eyes hard.

I know that look.

He's steeling himself, same as me.

We climb out, the night air hot and heavy against my skin.

This far from the city, the stars stretch on forever, a million pinpricks of light in the inky sky.

I take a breath, trying to settle the adrenaline already pumping through my veins.

As we approach the bar, I catch a glimpse of our reflections in the dingy windows.

Just two guys out for a drink, dressed down in jeans and plain t-shirts.

No cuts, no flashy jewelry screaming outlaw biker.

Damon is right, it's best to keep a low profile out here.

Let's face it, we never know who might be watching.

Jolt reaches for the door, but I grab his arm, my voice low. "Keep your eyes open in there. I want to know if you see anyone paying close attention to our conversation."

He nods curtly. "Bet."

The stench of stale beer and cheap cigarettes hits me like a wall as we step inside, some old country tune twanging from the jukebox.

It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dim light, hazy with smoke.

I scan the room, clocking the exits, the drunks hunched over the bar, the cluster of guys shooting pool in the back.

And there, tucked away in a dark corner booth are Damon and Dixon.

Our Prez looks up, meeting my gaze.

He doesn't smile, doesn't nod.

He just watches, his expression unreadable, as we weave our way through the tables.

My pulse picks up as we slide into the cracked vinyl seats across from them.

Time to get down to business.

Damon leans forward, elbows on the sticky table.

His steely eyes bore into mine, cutting right through the bullshit.

His gravelly voice is barely louder than a whisper, but I can feel the intensity radiating off him. "What have you found out?"

I lick my suddenly dry lips, choosing my words carefully.

"We're still in the beginning stages," I begin, keeping my own voice low. "But I made a connection with Seraphina at a club last week."

Damon's eyes narrow slightly. "Go on."

I nod, trying to ignore the way my stomach clenches under his scrutiny. "We've been texting every day since then. I've been baiting her, you know? Keeping her on the hook."

In my head, I replay our conversations.

The flirty jokes, the not-so-subtle innuendos.

The way she always takes just a little too long to respond, like she's weighing her words.

She's calculating, just like her mother no doubt.

I push down the flicker of unease in my gut. "She's definitely interested. Wants to meet up again soon. Hell, I've seen her a couple of times since last week."

Damon sits back, considering.

The seconds tick by, tension thickening the smoky air.

Finally, he nods. "Good. That's very good. Better to play the long game and win than move too quickly and lose our opportunity."

But there's a tightness around his eyes that wasn't there before.

It's a hint of something I can't quite read, then again I'm not supposed to be able to read my Prez.

I straighten in my seat, meeting his gaze head-on. "I won't let you down, Prez. I'll do whatever it takes to get the information we need."

The words taste like ash on my tongue, but I mean every one of them.

I'll play Seraphina like a fiddle if that's what it takes to protect the club, even if it means diving headfirst into a snake pit.

Damon grunts, a noncommittal sound, then turns his attention to Jolt. "What about you? What've you been up to?"

Jolt leans forward, elbows braced on the sticky tabletop. "I was at the club with Turmoil and Seraphina last week. Been working on her friend Rita ever since."

He flashes a grin, all white teeth and roguish charm. "Laying it on thick, you know? Trying to get her to let her guard down."

I can't help but smirk.

Jolt's always been a smooth talker, able to charm the panties off just about any woman he sets his sights on.

But Rita's not just any woman.

She's Seraphina's best friend, her confidante. Her achilles heel, maybe.

"I mentioned we should all hang out again sometime soon," Jolt continues, leaning back in the booth. "Rita seemed into it. Said she'd talk to Seraphina, see what she thinks."

Damon nods slowly, processing. "All right. Sounds like you're both making progress."

Beside him, Dixon shifts, clearing his throat. "You boys are doing good work. Real good."

Pride flickers in my chest at the rare praise from our stoic VP.

But it fades as quickly as Dixon's expression turns grim.

"Thing is," he says heavily, "Sally Bernard just got her hands on some permits. Wants to start putting up car washes all around Vegas."

My brow furrows, mind racing.

I remember Dixon mentioning something about this a few weeks back.

How we were looking for new ways to funnel cash, clean the dirty money pouring in from our illicit business deals.

Car washes would be the perfect front.

Easy to hide extra income, cook the books.

"Thought we were gonna get those permits," I say, a sinking feeling in my gut. "Use ‘em ourselves."

Dixon exhales deeply, suddenly looking twice his age. "Well, we didn't. Looks like Sally beat us to the punch."

Fuck.

Shit is just getting messier.

If Sally gets those car washes up and running, it'll mean she's fucking with another stream of revenue the club had planned.

More resources to come after us with.

"So," I say, struggling to keep my voice steady. "Did the club manage to get any of the permits? Or did she nab them all?"

Dixon shakes his head grimly. "Nah. She bypassed the hoops we had to jump through somehow. I don't even know if it'll be worth it to open up any fuckin' car washes anymore."

"Fuck," I curse under my breath, slamming a fist against the sticky tabletop. "This woman isn't gonna stop, is she?"

Damon leans forward, his steely eyes boring into mine. "No, she won't. And it's up to us to put an end to her scheming before she buries us."

His words settle like lead in my bones.

The weight of this responsibility, of going toe-to-toe with a ruthless criminal matriarch, threatens to suffocate me.

As damming as it is, I know we're going to make it through.

Jolt, silent until now, clears his throat. "You think she's gonna make other moves?" he asks, voice tight with tension. "Beyond just messing with our money?"

I watch as Damon and Dixon exchange a loaded glance.

An unspoken conversation passes between them, heavy with dark implications.

Finally, Damon gives a curt nod. "Without a doubt. Bleeding us dry financially is just the beginning."

"She'll come at us from every angle," Dixon adds, jaw clenched. "Won't stop until she's ground us into dust under her designer heels."

My mind spins, trying to anticipate what other vicious plays Sally might have up her sleeve.

Extortion? Blackmail? Outright violence?

With a woman as calculating and ruthless as her, the possibilities are endless.

Across from me, Damon leans back, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "Whatever her next move is, we need to be ready. Stay sharp and keep digging."

His gaze drills into me and Jolt, unwavering. "You two are our eyes and ears. Make your way inside her inner circle. We're countin' on you both."

I swallow hard, mouth suddenly bone dry.

I force myself to nod, meeting his stare head-on. "We won't let you down, Prez."

Beside me, Jolt echoes the vow. "We'll do whatever it takes."

Damon pushes to his feet, signaling the end of our meeting. "We'll reconvene next week. Different time, different location. I'll send you the details."

He fixes us with a pointed look. "In the meantime, keep working Seraphina and her friend. Charm them, seduce them, I don't care what you have to do. Just get us the intel we need to cut Sally off at the knees."

My stomach churns at the thought of manipulating Seraphina, using her growing trust in me as a weapon against her.

I square my shoulders, determined to let this be the way I get patched in. "Consider it done."

Dixon claps me on the back as he rises, a glimmer of approval in his eyes. "I knew we could count on you two,"

I'll do whatever it takes to prove myself worthy of the patch, to earn my place in the club, even if it means selling my soul in the process.

Jolt and I slide out of the booth, ready to head back to the trenches of our undercover mission.

But as we turn to leave, Damon's voice stops us in our tracks.

"And boys? Watch your backs out there. Sally's a vicious cunt, but her daughter..." He shakes his head, something dark and haunted flickering in his eyes. "She's got her ol' man's blood running through her veins. And if she's anything like Lunatic was, she won't hesitate to put a bullet in your skull if she sniffs out your true loyalties."

A shiver races down my spine at the grim warning.

Jolt and I exchange a loaded glance, the weight of the danger we're dancing with settling heavy on our shoulders.

But there's no turning back now.

We're in this until the bitter end, come what may.

With a final nod to our Prez and VP, we stride out of the bar and into the waiting night, ready to face whatever destiny has in store for us.