I smirked, giving him a nod. Yeah, we were good.
Grim sighed heavily and we waited expectantly for him to continue. “Bodie is back at my request.” My brothers nodded, many of them curious but no one said a word. “It’s been a long six months and this club has some shit to settle. Let’s hear what you found, Bodie.”
There wasn’t a delicate way to give the news. “We’ve got a problem,” I began, ticking my head toward my prez.
“What kind of problem?” Grim hardly ever reacted to bad news. He internalized everything which was both good and bad. Shit ate him up much worse than the rest of us and those he confided in were a small, select group.
The prez carried a heavy load of responsibility and regret. I knew this firsthand.
“There’s a rat,” I spat, disgusted. It was the only conclusion that made sense and one I’d thought about most of the ride back to the Crossroads from Hawthorne.
Noises of protest and disgust could be heard around the table.
“Explain.” Grim’s voice was calm, cool but no less powerful than usual.
“I wasn’t in the Blacktop more than a few minutes when the place was overrun with Scorpions.”
Mammoth shook his head. “Maybe they were only scoping the place out.”
“In this weather?” Wraith slapped a palm down and the table shook. “No way.”
Rael nodded. “Agreed.” He was always quick to believe the Scorpions were ready to start shit and he was usually right. “There’s no way that’s a coincidence.”
“Those fuckers keep pushing it,” Xenon added, clearly agitated.
“Where were you when you called me? Who could have heard?” I asked with a frown, wondering if he had been distracted by pussy or something else.
Lucky spoke up. “I heard him on his cell. Mammoth was here. Rael. I think that’s it besides the prospects. They were bringing in supplies.”
“No cookies? Nobody new?” Cookies were club whores who were constantly around at the beck and call of the members of the club. They provided sexual pleasure and release in any way the brothers wanted but it was a choice. No woman was forced to be a cookie.
“Fuck no,” Rael spat, “not on my watch, brother.”
Mammoth cracked his knuckles. “Want me and Rael to interrogate the prospects?”
Prospects didn’t attend church. Until you were a full patch you weren’t privy to the secrets of the club or its structure, financial or business ventures, or any other information.
“Wait.” I held up a hand. “You said we had deliveries. What kind?”
Patriot puffed away on his cigar, meeting my gaze across the table. “Booze, smokes, fuckin’ toilet paper. Standard shit.”
“And the Denali brothers?”
Xenon narrowed his eyes. “They were here briefly. Had a shipment issue. Some kind of glitch.”
“What fuckin’ glitch?” Grim looked pissed. “Why am I just now hearing about this shit?”
“Took care of it,” Wraith explained. “Didn’t see a reason to bring it up until now.”
“Fuck,” Grim cursed.
“Toad and Shadow were the only prospects around,” Hannibal added, flipping the metal lighter in his hand open and closed repeatedly with an annoying click. “I watched those boys nice and close. Wasn’t them.”
Resisting the urge to shiver, I nodded to Hannibal. The brother didn’t flinch as our gaze met and I didn’t linger on the multiple scars on his face or the teardrop of blood tattooed by his right eye a few inches from the reaper that wrapped around the right side of his skull. Head closely shaven, he was one of the scariest looking in our brotherhood, but he earned his respect with every hard-fought year he’d been in this club. As Treasurer, he kept a low profile, but nobody did anything at the Crossroads without Hannibal’s knowledge.
“Then our rat was one of the delivery drivers. It’s the only conclusion that makes sense.”
Grim pursed his lips. “That’s a hell of an opportunity. I don’t say shit in front of anyone. Fucking hell,” he cursed.