Chapter 8

Vapor

Day two of sitting on the Hellfire Hounds clubhouse is aggravating. Rigs was supposed to take over, but he and his old lady got a lead on one of those missing kids they were still tracking down and had to bail on me. I ended up sleeping rough last night and I'm back on the job at the fucking crack of dawn. I'm pissed that I had to cancel half my tattoo appointments, but I guess these things can't be helped. Dutch is on his way to relieve me and should be here any minute. I can't wait to be shot of this place. The things I've seen since I started monitoring the Hound's clubhouse make me want to bleach my eyes.

King comes downstairs, kicking several of his men awake on his way to church. I lose track of him yet again because there are no cameras in the meeting room they use for club business. Which is a smart move, but not a deterrent for me as long as he keeps his cell phone on him. I turn up the volume on my earpiece. All I hear are club noises. I'd fucking give anything for nice hot coffee about now.

A half an hour or so later, I hear a gavel slam down and King calls their meeting to order. I sit down, pull out my vape and take a draw. Zen, our IT brother, is already recording everything in real time, so I just need to be eyes on.

I hear King's voice yell angrily, "If the Savage Legion think they can fuck up our operation, they are dumber than they look. I want every single member of the Legion six feet under. Everything they have will be ours, including those pretty little club whores. We'll add them to our stable and work them until they drop."

I can hear the others talking over each other. It's impossible to tell if they're objecting or cheering. From the sound of their excited voices, I assume it's the latter.

King's voice rises to be heard above the others. "We've been dealing with those assholes for fuckin' years and it needs to stop."

"Jinx is going to give us an update, he knows some guys who claim to have intel on the Savage Legion."

Another voice, who I assume is Jinx speaks. He spins a story about how the drug dealers admitted under extreme interrogation that they had links in several counties throughout California. They stated their group had established ties with a dangerous South American cartel who were looking to import drugs directly into California. Furthermore, this person had stated that the Savage Legion was in the process of taking over their operation one piece at a time.

Now, I know that people being physically coerced will say any damn thing they think the other person wants to hear in order to get them to stop, and that must have been what happened because I can fucking guarantee no member of our club got the idea to muscle into the illegal drug trade, if anything it's something that we try to stop.

Unfortunately, every brother in the Hellfire Hounds clubhouse is getting worked up at the thought of us muscling in on their drug running. The ignorant fucks should know by now that the Savage Legion are not into running drugs or any other illegal activity.

King's voice rings out again. "I want eyes on every single member of the Savage Legion. Pick up their whores and squeeze them for information as well. If they're ballsy enough to hang around the Legion's clubhouse they're fair game for interrogation," King insisted. "I want the names, some addresses, all their phone numbers, Jinx. And I want a schematic of their clubhouse. I know we've been after that for years but now is the time to press harder and think outside the box."

"What about Tracker?" Someone asks.

"What about him?" King retorts sounding angry.

"They've got him working at their bar in town. Can he not get intel, maybe get him in with the Legion?"

"No one's gonna tell my boy a damn thing. And I'm not having him act as a spy. He works off his debt, end of."

There was silence for a few moments, and again I am reminded that as far as King is concerned, his family is the only thing he truly cares about.

"At the moment they outgun and out man us," some poor soul pointed out.

Another brother responds, "We can always get more guns, we can't take on more prospects without clearing them first, because we'd be taking a chance of them slipping in a mole. Those assholes would slit our throats in our sleep if that happened."

King's voice turns pensive, as though he was thinking out loud. "What we need are force multipliers. Think of every single thing you can, that will give us an advantage and take an advantage away from our enemy. For example, we need to tap their phones, be prepared to redirect their calls out for help, bug their clubhouse and homes, and lo-jack their cars. At the same time, we'll need someone on our end checking every day to ensure they haven't managed to do the same to us. We need a good tech team to manage the tremendous amount of data we're generating and to separate the wheat from the chaff."

Someone volunteers, "I can pull together a team."

I don't like the sound of that. Until now our surveillance has given us the advantage. It sounds like they may be leveling the playing field in that regard.

King states, "We need more automatic weapons and a sniper rifle in every brother's hand who knows how to use it. We need every action we take covered by snipers from the highest vantage points feasible. We need night vision, because most clubs don't have it."

There is another outburst of the brothers talking over one another. Several people point out that they don't have money for all the things King wants. He starts brainstorming ways they can turn a quick profit.

After more discussion, King says, "I don't want anyone caught. We can't afford to lose brothers while we're recruiting so hard. We'll need every single man we've got in play if the Legion calls on help from allied clubs. We'll get us a few medics who don't know anything except how to keep a brother breathing until we can get him medical help. We need Kevlar vests for every single brother, we need ballistic plating for the cages. I want everyone who's not riding a bike as protected as possible in trucks and vans. We need to ensure no brother is left alone. Travel in pairs and take alternate routes. We can't have those fuckers anticipating our movements."

The men continue brainstorming late into the morning. This is war and every member of King's crew seems prepared to do whatever they had to in order to win. The only flaw I saw in their otherwise brilliant plan was the execution. They were finally engaging in the kind of high level planning our club did on any given Tuesday. The brothers in our club mostly had military backgrounds, so that kind of planning and execution came second nature to us—and those of us who weren't ex-military, had been trained by the best. King's men were a bunch of outlaws and misfits. Based on their past history, I couldn't see them pulling off even half the things King had in mind.

As the men filed out, King calls his VP over.

"Thanks for the intel, Jinx. I hear you got a helping hand from Trix."

"Yes, she's been a star."

"She's smart too," King responded warmly.

Something in my chest freezes when I hear her name. Suddenly I realize that Trix is not only associated with their club, but she's embedded deep enough to assist them with their missions. Fucking hell, what have I gotten myself into by hooking up with her? I hadn't gotten around to asking Zen to do a deep dive on her because I thought she was on the periphery. But no matter how I'm starting to feel about her, I know we have to see how far she's involved.

King adds, "It was also smart to send the prospects to scope those gun shops in Marks County."

"Yeah, that was my idea. We got a good haul of cash and weapons last night. And since it's well outside our territory, no one's going to think we were involved."

"You and Scrapper really came through for the club and I won't forget that."

"Scrapper knows he really fucked up by breaking into the Savage Legion's bar and is trying his best to make it up to you."

"Fuck the Savage Legion. When we kill every single one of them, I'll give that fucking bar to Tracker as compensation for those dirty fuckers making him work off his debt. I fucking offered to pay the damages, and the assholes turned me down. Said Tracker wouldn't learn his lesson if they let me bail him out."

"Is that why we're suddenly pushing against the Legion so hard?"

"It's one of a hundred reasons, but mostly because they keep getting in the way of us earning a decent living. Anyways, the haul you brought in last night will go a long way in helping us take them out."

"I know the club needs the guns and cash we took but is there a finder fee for me and Scrapper on this one?"

"Fuck yes. As always you get ten percent of the cash and your pick of the guns, because it was your idea. You can tell Scrapper that he's back in my good books and welcome back at the clubhouse."

"He'll be real happy about that, sir. He's been going stir-crazy since he got suspended from the clubhouse."

"Well, the rest of the weapons are going into the club's gun safe. I looked them over last night when you dropped them off. Most are new and good used weapons. They'll come in handy in a firefight. And the cash would go a long way in gearing us up for what's coming with the Legion."

"My thoughts exactly, boss. Just a reminder that when we busted in on those two drug dealers, there might not have been much cash, but the drugs should net us a tidy sum. The meth and assortment of pills should bring in around a hundred and fifty grand once it's all sold at street value. Are we keeping the marijuana for party favors?"

"Like always." King responds happily. "We don't make enough of marijuana to worry about selling it. Besides we gotta keep the girls happy. I sure as fuck don't want to encourage a meth habit among the whores. It's bad enough that several of the brothers are using off and on all the time."

"Good call on the marijuana. Can I suggest we spend the money on Kevlar for every patched member and prospect."

"Maybe," King responds in a cagey voice. "We also need to upgrade security. We should keep about fifty grand in the safe because I don't like to be cash poor."

Jinx breathes out a sigh of relief. "Sounds good to me. You got a head for business, King. Me? I just feel like I did right by my brothers by gathering resources for our coming battle."

"You're a good VP, Jinx. I'm glad we had the forethought to pick you for that position, I know you've always got my back."

Their brotherhood is still shooting the shit when a car pulls up, one that I recognize. Trix jumps out. Instead of being dressed like a hippy the way she was at the rave and when I saw her the other night, she's wearing tight black leather pants, a belly shirt, and a short black leather jacket. My heart starts beating wildly in my chest but I'm very conflicted. It sounded a lot like Trix has been spying for the Hounds, and that would make her the enemy. I have an awful thought, was our meeting at the rave orchestrated? She now knows I sometimes pull in shifts at our bar, but does she know I'm a patched in member? What if it was all a fucking set up. Fuck…

I focus my binoculars on her slim form and snort a laugh when I see that she's wearing a delicate, ornamental lock through the end of her zipper and the buttonhole of her pants. I can barely see it for the jacket. I can't only imagine that it's her way of communicating that her pants are staying on.

Seeing that gold lock dangling from her waistband make me wonder why her man doesn't have her in a property cut. There is no way she would be safe at a club like this without her man remaining at her side, or her being in his property cut. When we hooked up again the other night she said she was single, but now I know she's more involved with the Hounds than she let on, I'm not sure I can trust anything that comes out of her mouth.

A sick feeling swirls in the pit of my stomach when I realize that she could be a club girl, playing coy. I dismiss that idea almost as soon as it pops into my mind. Trix doesn't seem the type and I don't want to think that she's slept with all the Hounds because they're garbage in my mind.

I try to track her through the building. She stops by their bar for a minute and talks to the bartender, then she's off to the back of the building. She's gone from my sight and I'm not picking her up on any audio because we only get that through King's phone. A few minutes later a prospect comes running out front, jumps behind the wheel of her car and pulls it around to their tire center. Ah, she's getting new tires. Maybe they have an area sectioned off for customers. If so, maybe she wouldn't need protection.

After about thirty minutes they bring her car back out and she exits the building a few minutes later. Tracker follows her, jerks her by the arm and spins her around to scream at her. She shoves him back with both hands, barely moving him and yells back at him. Eventually, King comes stomping out of the clubhouse and I can finally hear what they're saying.

Tracker says, "You're a fucking liar. I know someone was at your apartment that day. The whole place smelled like sex."

"That's none of your damn business."

I freeze in place when King grabs her by her hair and jerks her around to look at him. "The hell it isn't our business. Tracker is your fucking brother and I'm your grandfather. That makes everything you do, our business."

Shock roils through my gut. How did we not pick up on the fact that King had a granddaughter?

"I'm a grown adult. That means I can do as I like," she says stubbornly.

King growls, "We've spent your entire life making sure no one could put your face together with the Hellfire Hounds specifically for the marriage alliance. The Grave Diggers are willing to trade their support for a clean, decent woman who is wife material, not some fucking whore, who puts out at the drop of a hat. In case you haven't noticed, our clubhouse is full of whores who would love to get hitched to a patched brother. They want you though, and right now you're letting your club and your family down."

"I know all that. You've got my whole life planned out for me and never had the decency to even ask what I wanted."

"Be that as it may, you know that you're not supposed to have men over at your place. That was part of the deal when I let you move out."

"Yeah, but I was only seventeen then. I'm a grown woman now."

"You need to stop fucking around before the club president of the Diggers decides you're not good enough for his fucking son. You're meant for Decker. We already talked about this."

"I'm not interested in being Decker's old lady. I've told you that million times and I haven't changed my mind."

Fury surges in my chest when King backhands her across the face. Then his hand came up to wrap around the back of her neck and he jerks her forward. Trix immediately starts trying to wrench herself from his grasp. I could tell the moment he squeezed her throat because she froze in place. King is an absolute bastard, always has been. I suddenly remember something she said to me at the rave about her grandfather and it all makes sense.

I toy with the idea of stepping in to protect her but that would only get me killed and verify that she was indeed fucking around, and with a member of the Savage Legion no less. That might get her killed as well, considering how unhinged her old man is. I want to grab her up, throw her over my shoulder and take her away from all this shit. The problem is, I'm a good fighter but even I couldn't hope to take on an entire MC and survive.

King leans close and whispers something. But before I could turn up the volume on my earpiece, he'd had his say.

Tracker takes a step back, looking a bit mortified. King drops his hand from her neck and states flatly, "Do we have and understanding?"

Looking ten kinds of freaked out, she nods. "Ye…yes. I understand completely. I'll cooperate."

"Good," King says. "Now, get the fuck out of here before I really lose my temper."

This is a really bad situation, one that I'm still trying to wrap my head around. What in the fuck did I just see and hear? King has a granddaughter, and it's Trix. Until this moment, we only knew of the two grandsons. This has been one of their mostly closely guarded secrets. But why keep it all under wraps? Keeping her hidden purely so she could be married off to one of their allied clubs seemed a bit farfetched, but knowing how much King values family, maybe he was worried about her safety in the community and that's the reason? Though seeing how he manhandled Trix, compared with the care he showed his younger grandson last night just raises even more questions.

I watch her head back to her car. She looks stone-faced, but I can see that underneath her mask, she's terrified. Who wouldn't be? King deserves a slow death for treating his granddaughter like that.

I jerk the earpiece away and shove it into my pocket.

Pulling out my phone, I call Dutch. "There's been an emergency and I need to leave now. Can anyone cover for me?"

I watch King take a smoke. He seems supremely aggravated. Another brother comes out and stands quietly behind him. I don't understand what's going on right now.

"Yeah, I'm about five minutes away. Take off and I'll stay until I can get someone in place."

"Thanks man. Sorry. You know that I'm normally solid."

"I do know that, brother. Wanna tell me what's goin' on," Dutch sounds concerned.

"Soon, I promise. Right now, I need to get on the road."

"Alright, call me when you can. If you need anything, your club brothers are here for you."

I disconnect the call, shove the cell phone in my pocket and pull the earpiece back out. I push it back into my ear, just as the man speaks to King.

"You sure she's going to be true blue once we're hitched? She sure as fuck doesn't sound like she wants to be my old lady."

"Don't worry Decker, she'll do as she's told if she knows what's good for her."

"Sounds like you're trying to get me hitched to a woman who hates the idea of being with me. That doesn't like it's going to be a particularly happy life for either of us."

King turns to him. "Your old man sent you to us in order to woo my granddaughter, not hang out and drink yourself stupid at our bar every night and avail yourself of the club whores."

"I know that. She doesn't spend evenings at the club, and it feels like she's been avoiding me on the few visits she's made during the day."

"Stop whining and do what you were sent here to do or I'm going to have to call your old man. Don't concern yourself with what she wants, she'll do as I say. This marriage is meant to cement an alliance between our clubs."

"People don't do that kind of thing anymore. You and my old man are living in the past."

I wasn't particularly surprised when King immediately backhanded him across the face. "Don't know how things work at the Grave Diggers MC, but at Hellfire Hounds brothers follow fucking directions from their club president."

"Yes sir," Decker spits out along with some blood.

"I'd be ashamed to be given a beautiful young woman and promptly fuck it all up by being a fucking drunk who prefers club whores. I wanted your older brother for my granddaughter and unfortunately, they sent me the family fuck up."

"She won't even talk to me."

"You go to her fucking place and press your point. Buy her flowers and gifts. Make her fucking talk to you. It's as simple as that."

Taking a step back, Decker's upper lip curls back in disgust. "Like you make her do stuff, or are you the only one allowed to give her a busted lip, right?"

King's head jerks up and he glares at Decker. "Get the fuck outta my face."

I walk my bike through the brush and back to the interstate before getting on and making for Trix's house. I was going anyway, but now the rush is on to get there before Decker and spirit her away to someplace where he can't get to her.

After hearing the conversation, I'm pretty sure she's not a spy. She's just a poor woman caught up in a biker war, and I'm determined to keep her safe.