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“They’re all covered?”
Pirate nodded. “All twenty-three of them. No one is going to be able to see anything.”
Dove’s dad was due to show up any minute, and we had been frantic making sure all of the cameras were covered. This visit was not one we wanted to broadcast.
“I’m sorry,” Dove whispered next to me.
Was she?
From everything she had told us, she was here to find out dirt on us and report back to her good ol’ dad. That was a hell of a lot to be sorry for.
We were all gathered around the large table in church, waiting for Dove’s dad to show up.
She had given us the rundown of what he had asked her to do and kept swearing up and down that she knew she wasn’t going to find any dirt on us but had to try so she could get her trust fund.
Hmph, as if any of us cared about her trust fund. The club was more important than any amount of money.
Obviously, not for Dove.
“You don’t have to be sorry,” Sloane called.
“Tell me again why we need to have these two in here?” Stretch asked.
“I thought church was for members only?” Smoke drawled. “Last I check, you two were not members of the Iron Fiends.”
“I’m sleeping with one,” Sloane pointed out. “That has to count for something, right?”
“Now, do you see why I wasn’t excited for you guys to get ol’ ladies?” Yarder muttered. “If you two wouldn’t have hooked up, then we wouldn’t have the state attorney general’s daughter sitting at our table.”
Sloane leaned forward and laid her hand on the table. “Is that why you have that bombass apartment? I always wondered how you were able to live there, but I just figured you were really good with money.”
“My mom left me a chunk of money when she died,” Dove explained. “My dad has nothing to do with my money. Well, other than he is the trustee of the trust, but I was working on that. I wasn’t lying when I told you I had a trust.”
“How honorable of you,” I smirked. “But you were going to get your hands on your trust by being a rat.” She was going to get her hands on her money by ratting out the club.
“I wasn’t a rat because I knew you guys weren’t up to anything bad. I just had to bide my time to make my dad think that I was really trying to get dirt on you, and then he would sign my trust over to me,” Dove explained.
“What would you have done if you found out we were dirty?” Yarder asked.
“Not tell my dad, that’s for sure,” she muttered. “And I wasn’t worried about that because I knew you guys were clean,” she stressed.
“I don’t think she is a rat,” Sloane butted in. “I’ve known Dove for years, and I know she would never tattletale on people.” She pointed at Dove. “Do you remember the time when Gus from packaging snuck into the mixing room and messed with the measurements for the special edition funfetti? We both knew he was the one who messed up all of those batches, but we didn’t tell Grover. We took the blame, and Gus got off scot-free.”
“Do you hear yourself when you talk?” Fade chuckled. “Or do you just say whatever?”
Sloane flipped him off. “I know exactly what I just said. Dove is not a snitch, and I would know because I have worked with her for years.”
“But why did he want dirt on us?” Dice asked. “We’re a motorcycle club from Mt. Pleasant, not the likes of a huge club or anything.”
“We’re the most well-known club in Texas, and we’re about to be on a reality show. Frying us in front of cameras could have been career-changing for your dear old dad.” Yarder rapped his knuckles on the table. “Shot him right up to the US attorney general.”
Dove shifted uncomfortably in her chair.
“Why were you gone for two weeks?” Compass asked. “It take you that long to figure out a plan to catch us in the act?”
Dove rolled her eyes. “It took me that long to let my father actually talk to me. Being kidnapped by my father’s goons is a surefire way to piss me off and zip it even when he really wants to talk to me.”
“She’s not lying.” Everyone’s gaze shifted to the door where Russ Finley stood. “She didn’t want to do any of this. I had to bribe her.”
Dove bugged her eyes out and nodded her head sharply. “See,” she hissed through clenched teeth.
“May I come in?” Russ asked.
Yarder stood and motioned to the open chair between him and Compass. “Have a seat, Mr. Finley.”
Russ waved his hand at Yarder. “Just call me Russ. We’re on terms I didn’t see coming, but that doesn’t mean we need to be so formal. And I prefer to stand. It was a long ride in from Dallas.” He moved to the front of the table by Yarder and shook his hand.
Russ turned and looked around the table.
Having the Texas attorney general in church was something I never saw coming.
This dude was fancy suit, caviar, and jet planes, while the club was leather cuts, cold beer, and motorcycles. Talk about different worlds meeting.
“I would like to start off by saying thank you for keeping Dove safe and also sorry for making her betray your trust.” Russ nodded to Dove. “I lost count of the amount of times Dove told me you guys were clean.” He tipped his head to the side. “I didn’t believe her because I got some intel that claimed differently.”
“So instead of believing your daughter, you believed whatever this intel was,” I chimed in.
Yarder held up his hand toward. “Let him talk before we talk.”
I held up my hands. “Fine, fine,” I muttered. I could hold my tongue for a few minutes.
“My intel came from a very reliable source. One that had never steered me wrong before, but now it seems that has changed. Not only is the club in danger, but so are Dove and I.” Russ paced back and forth with his hands in his pockets. “You know the world is going downhill when I feel safer in a motorcycle club than I do in my own office in Dallas,” he mused.
“What is going on, Father?” Dove demanded. “The last we talked, you were adamant the Iron Fiends were who you were going after, and you were headed for the US attorney general.”
Russ ran his fingers through his perfectly coifed hair. “My reliable source came to me from Boone Drake, who is the current US attorney general.”
He talked like that name should mean anything to us. We didn’t fuck around in things that would bring the United States attorney general into our orbit.
“He’s been rallying me to take his place. He’s getting older and wants to retire on the lake with his family. He, of course, had the president's ear and said he had been talking me up to him. Hell, I was at the damn White House last month for dinner. Everything was going exactly as it should. Boone said I just needed one good case to put me right in his seat.”
Sounded like a typical politician. Sit in a cushy office for years and then retire with a hefty nest egg on a ritzy lake.
“That one good case was to take down the Iron Fiends, huh?” Compass smirked.
Russ looked at Dove. “It was like my dream landed right in my lap, and all I had to do was grab it. Boone told me the case would be a slam dunk.”
“What did you do?” Dove whispered.
“Boone changed his mind. More like his mind was changed for him, and I was suddenly out.” Russ resumed pacing. “The party decided they wanted to endorse Craig Gibbs instead. He’s a hotshot lawyer from Houston who’s been putting away big members of the Kilmore gang.”
“Damn,” Pirate muttered. “You can’t get me to watch the news, but even I’ve heard about the gang going down.”
“That’s because it is a pretty big deal. No one has been able to successfully prosecute them until Gibbs. He’s put away three of the top players of the gang in the past month,” Russ explained. “Impressive.”
“So why can’t they just switch over to him and leave you alone?” Dove asked.
“Because he knows too much,” Yarder drawled.
“Yes,” Russ confirmed.
“You called me this morning and seemed surprised about the car crashing into the clubhouse, though,” Dove pointed out.
“Because I was,” Russ sighed. “I didn’t know I was out until this afternoon. I figured Boone would have his people plant drugs or something in the clubhouse. When I sent you here, I was hopeful you would find them, and that would be it. From what I can gather now, there are things happening as we speak that will tear the club down. They want you to make choices that will put you right in the crosshairs of the law.”
Who the fuck was them?
“Then stop those things, Dad. Stop whatever you started,” Dove demanded. “You have to. You’re the Texas state attorney general,” Dove whaled.
Russ shook his head. “This is completely out of my hands now. I’ll be lucky if I finish my term without being six feet under. I’ve got four months before the next election, and someone else takes over as state attorney general.”
“Then what happens to you?” Pirate asked.
“If I’m alive, I get the hell out of politics and retire in the mountains somewhere while looking over my shoulder until I die.”
How lovely.
What the fuck did Russ Finely get into?
“Was the car crashing into the clubhouse last night the beginning?” Yarder asked.
“It has to be,” Russ sighed.
“No, the gym blowing up had to be the start,” Pirate pointed out.
Russ shook his head. “That happened before Boone came to me. That has nothing to do with me.”
“Great,” Stretch drawled. “The two aren’t connected, which means we’ve got two targets on our backs now.”
“If I were you guys, I would be more worried about the one I put there.” Russ’ phone rang, and he pulled it out of his pocket.
“Someone important calling?” Yarder asked.
Russ shoved his phone back in his pocket. “Unknown number.”
“You get many phone calls from unknown numbers?” I asked.
Russ glanced at me. “Only in the past four hours. They’re trying to figure out where I am.”
“So what do we do now?” I asked. “It’s not like we can go to the police with all of this.”
Russ shook his head. “Gibbs would be all over this to shut it down before anyone got word on it. The guy is that good.”
“Just makes you all warm and fuzzy inside knowing these are the type of people helping to run our state and country,” Cue Ball mused.
“Do you have any idea what Boone and Gibbs are up to now?” Yarder asked.
Russ shook his head. “I have been removed from all access to Boone, and my secretary called me on the way over to tell me that a load of cases was dumped on my desk that I need to make my priority.”
“Why?” Dove asked.
“Bury me under paperwork so I can’t speak to anyone.” Russ looked at Yarder. “But they are still going to come after you guys. Gibbs putting away the Kilmore gang is good; taking down the Iron Fiends will be the cherry on top.”
“We’re fucking nobody!” Compass hollered. “We do charity runs for kids, run a garage, and are on some dumb reality TV show.”
“That last one is the reason why you’re the target. In a few months’ time, your faces will be all over the TV, and then quickly, you’ll be on the news as either drug dealers, traffickers, or some other evil thing the public hates. Gibbs takes you down, and he’s a hero in the eye of the public. Give that man US attorney general seat,” Russ mocked.
“Which is exactly what you were going to do, but the only reason why you’re pissed off now is because it’s Gibbs getting the glory, not you,” Dice pointed out.
Russ threw his hands in the air. “Yeah, so? I would have gotten you a couple of years in prison, and then you would have been out. Gibbs, on the other hand, will do whatever it takes to make sure you all rot in prison for the rest of your lives.”
“This guy Gibbs sounds charming,” Smoke chuckled.
“None of that is going to happen,” Yarder called. He pounded his fist on the table. “I don’t know what the fuck you are going to do, Russ, but the club is going to be fine. We lock shit down like Fort Knox and trust no one.”
“Pretty much what we are doing right now,” Fade shrugged.
Yarder shook his head. “Even tighter. No one new comes into the clubhouse.”
“Uh, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but we are in the middle of filming a reality show that is pretty much paying our bills right now. How are we going to be on lockdown while a camera crew comes and goes every day?” I asked.
“Fuck,” Yarder grunted and sat back in his seat. “This is the worst fucking timing for the show right now.”
“Can’t we talk to the producers and tell them what is going on?” Fade asked.
Compass and Yarder both shook their heads. “We are under contract to provide a certain amount of hours of footage. If we don’t, the advance we got needs to be paid back with penalties on top.”
“So we’d be fucked even more than we already are,” I sighed. Fucking great.
“What if you give the show some excitement?” Sloane suggested.
“What are you talking about?” Aero asked.
“Well, we’ve all watched reality TV, right?” Sloane looked around expectantly.
There was a mumble of grunts and a chorus of nos.
“Well,” Sloane drawled. “I guess Dove and I have watched reality TV, and there always is sort of a main story with little ones weaved in. We make a big story that the camera crew has to follow, and the rest of the club stays back to be on lockdown and figure out what is going on.”
“Stupid,” Stretch called. “We don’t have anything going on other than fixing cars.”
Sloane rolled her eyes.
“No, Sloane is right,” Dove chirped. “You guys obviously can’t have a camera crew in and out every day. Sloane and I can go off on a girls’ trip with the camera crew following.”
“Did we forget about the other twenty-three cameras in the clubhouse?” I asked. “You’re taking away one camera and leaving twenty-three. And you and Sloane are not going to go traipsing off by yourselves.” Did she really think that she and Sloane were just going to go off by themselves with a shitstorm brewing around us?
“No, they’re taking away one camera, the three people that are always attached to it, and two of you. Those three people that we have no clue about and could do god knows what to us if Boone and Gibbs were able to get to them.” Yarder steepled his hands in front of him. “This could work.”
Pirate raised his hand. “Am I the only one who is confused right now?”
Dice slapped him upside the head. “Keep up, brother, or I’ll explain it later.”
“Why two of us?” Smoke asked. “I’m sure Aero can handle Dove and Sloane.”
“One-on-one coverage,” Yarder grunted. “Aero and Throttle.”
I flattened my lips and held back protesting. I didn’t want to be off distracting the camera crew. I wanted to be here solving the huge fucking problem we had.
“I don’t know if this is going to work,” Compass doubted. “What’s to say they won’t send another camera crew out here to stay at the clubhouse?”
“They won’t. I was talking to Garett the other day, and he said they only have four camera crews, and since there are four clubs, they are relying heavily on the footage they are getting from the cameras staged around the clubhouse since there is one camera crew for each club.”
“Who the fuck is Garret?” Yarder spat at Dice.
“The guy with the camera on his shoulder all of the time,” Dice explained. “You telling me you guys don’t know these guys' names? It’s Garett with the camera, Max with the boom and shit, and then Adalee is the one with the clipboard.”
“We should know these people,” Compass chuckled, “but I think we’ve all been preoccupied with the show and cars crashing into the clubhouse.”
“But what is going to be so amazing that the crew is going to leave the clubhouse?” Stretch questioned.
“Well, what normally happens on reality shows?” I asked. I had caught a few minutes here and there of shows like ours, but they never really held my attention.
We all looked at Sloane and Dove.
“You used to watch those sisters all the time, Dove,” Russ called. “The Candash.”
Sloane tipped her head to the side. “Uh, who?”
“The Kardashians,” Dove clarified. “And I haven’t watched their show in a while. Khloe used to be my favorite, but now even she seems out of touch with reality. Just not my vibe anymore.”
“Still fucking confused,” Pirate called.
“Jesus Christ,” Yarder muttered. “Just tell us what the hell needs to happen for the camera crew to follow you two.”
Sloane and Dove exchanged looks. “Uh, well,” Dove started.
“No,” Sloane called. “Don’t even say it.”
“But you know that camera crew will be hot on our tails if you do it,” Dove muttered.
“Do what?” Aero demanded. “You two are just sitting here, and I feel like you’re up to something.”
“It was one of the highest-ranked episodes when Khloe married Lamar,” Dove reasoned.
“Am I the only one who feels like we should have watched some reality shows before filming started?” Dice laughed.
Sloane shook her head. “Don’t say it.”
“Say it,” Russ called. “It can’t be worse than whatever Gibbs has headed this way.” His words were like a bucket of cold water dumped on us.
For a minute, I had forgotten that Russ was still here. He was standing at the head of the table with his suit jacket unbuttoned and his hands on his hips.
We all waited, wondering just what the hell Dove was talking about.
“No,” Sloane whispered.
Dove closed her eyes and scrunched up her face.
“Say it!” Yarder hollered.
*
