Page 23 of Iron Heart

“What kind of product?”

“Whatever people need moved, brother.” Dom flashes a grin. “I thought maybe you’d want to get in on the action.”

I roll my eyes. “You thought I’d give you some money, you mean.”

“No, Dante, that ain’t it. I mean, sure, if you wanna invest, that’d be cool.” I snort, but he ignores me. “But it ain’t necessary. I made good on some online poker games and some other bets I made. I’ve got the money. I just need some leads on clients. Since I ain’t been around here for a while, I thought maybe you could point me in the right direction.”

I gape at him. This is a level of responsibility I’ve never seen out of Dom before — if he’s not feeding me a line, that is.

“Are you serious about this?”

“As a heart attack.”

Well, that’s a hell of a deal. I’m still suspicious, but, maybe my baby brother is finally pulling his shit together. Still, it doesn’t quite add up in my mind.

“Why Ironwood, Dom? It doesn’t make sense. You never wanted to live here.”

“Competition isn’t as stiff here. It’s easier to get your foot in the door.” Dom shrugs again. “Plus, you know how it works in Cleveland. You gotta pay protection to some organization or another.” He shows his teeth. “I should know, right? I used to be on that end. But here in Ironwood, I have an in with the MC that owns the territory. I figure the Lords ain’t gonna bleed me dry the same way I might get bled somewhere else.”

Aha.“So that’s why you want me in on it.”

“Sure. That, and I wanted to see if there were any opportunities there.”

“What do you mean?”

“Wanted to see if there’s any way we could work together. The Lords of Carnage, and Iron City Refrigerated Transport.”

“How do you figure?”

Dom shakes his head impatiently. “Shit, Dante, you know how this works. You run a legit business, to cover for the other shit. Well, look. I’m workin’ on some contracts with some businesses that should provide some good cover, if you know what I mean. Organic fuckin’ farmers who make stinky cheese out of goats milk. That kind of shit.” He chuckles. “Thought maybe the MC might want have need of my services.”

Organic produce. Not a bad idea. Transporting hippy-ass shit like that around Ohio might be a decent cover for the product we need to move.

I think about the situation the club is having with the Dos Santos cartel. How Los Caballeros might be watching and waiting to intercept our shipments to them.

Huh. Well, what do you know. Dom just might be the fuckin’ answer to our problem.

If he doesn’t fuck it up, that is.

“Come on, man, I’m your brother.” Dom holds his hands out. “I wouldn’t ask if you couldn’t trust me.”

I scoff. “Right.”

“I’m serious,” he says earnestly. “This could be an arrangement that’s beneficial to both of us. Your club needs reliable people to move your shit, don’t they? I wanna get out of the rat race.”

“Dom,” I warn, “you workin’ for the Lords would put my ass on the line. The club expects my loyalty, and they got it. I took an oath. You understand what that means?” I lean forward, fix him with a stare. “That means if somethin’ goes wrong, and I gotta make a choice between you and them, I pick them. You got that?”

“Absolutely.” Dom’s expression doesn’t waver.

I frown down at the floor for a moment, not speaking. This is a lot to take in. It’s also one hell of a coincidence.

Fuck. Is this a good idea? I dunno.

I know what our ma would say.Family helps family.

It’s fuckin’ ironic that my mother’s words about helping family come back to me so often, to convince me to help a brother who doesn’t give a shit about family — except when it suits him.

But there’s something to be said about the idea of keeping the transport of our product in the family. Especially when we don’t know what Los Caballeros’ next move might be.

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