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Atlanta, Georgia – Corp Workout Facility
Zoie
6 months pregnant
“Somebody dropped the fucking ball!”
“Pops, what are you talking about?”
I watch as Deck’s father strolls into his office without so much as a knock on the door. He walks in like a man on a mission. We have that in common today. I acknowledge the legend with a nod. He does me one better by thrusting out his hand.
“Tag. Or are you using the Jaquar name still?”
I chuckle because I don’t discuss my time in the Corps with anyone.
“Neither. Actually, Mr. Ballistic, most simply call me ...”
“Trevor or Trev. I understand. You’ve seen a lot of shit in your life either way.”
Deck looks miffed as he watches the two of us talk. “Pops, you’re going to have to tell me how you know the shit you do one of these days. His call sign and street name were buried in records I had to have special permission to obtain. You waltz in here and spout off the information like it’s common knowledge.”
“It is when you know the right people. Back to why I’m here. Who the hell dropped the fucking ball?”
“What ball, Pops? What do you know that we obviously don’t?”
“Guess who used to be the vice president and former enforcer for Hell’s Riders?”
Deck and I both exchange a perplexed look.
“Who, Mr. Ballistic?”
“Your girl’s father, that’s who.” He drops a folder on Deck’s desk. The big man picks it up then pulls a photo out of it. Deck flips it so I can see the photo of Zo’s father wearing a cut with the HR patch on it. “I’m guessing the good senator would want to keep this info to himself,” Deck says.
“I know a certain rival biker gang leader who would use this to extort that same senator.”
“Kid, just a guess here. This isn’t just about you and your history with Ghost,” Pops says.
“Oh and son, my informants are mine for a reason. I’ll be taking their names to my grave.”
“Yeah, yeah. All right, Pops. Take a hike, Old Man.”
Both men chuckle, and I shake my head. I wish I could’ve had that with my old man. That fucker wouldn’t know how to even attempt to have that with me