Page 27 of Iron Heart

I surprise myself by feeling a small thrill run up my spine at the thought of him defending one of his club brothers in a fight.

When Frank comes back into the office a little while later, I make up an excuse to go see him in his office. When I’m about to leave, I cock my head and frown.

“Hey, Frank,” I ask nonchalantly. “What do you know about that local biker club? The Lords of Carnage?”

He stops what he’s doing and gives me a sharp look. “What do you want to know about them for?”

I shrug. “I’m just curious. I’ve seen them around, and… you know. Just want to know what they’re about.”

“Best to leave that alone, Tori,” he murmurs, turning back to his computer. His lips form a thin line as he begins to type.

“But…” I begin, but he stops me.

“Look,” he half-barks, using a tone I’ve never heard from him. He fixes me with a stern stare. “I know you get frustrated, doing the kind of stories you do for this paper. I know you have bigger dreams than this. But don’t go looking for scoops where there aren’t any. You got me?”

I got you. Wow, do I ever.

Frank insisting there’s no story there tells me the real truth is exactly the opposite. And he knows it. So I guess I have my answer.

The Lords of Carnage is what they call a one-percenter MC.

Dante D’Agostino is an outlaw.

12

Dante

“So, you think your brother can handle doin’ these runs?” Axel is asking. “He reliable?”

The other Lords around the table are silent, waiting for my answer.

I know they all trust me. And that they trust my word. I was chosen to be Enforcer of this MC for a reason. I take the club’s safety and reputation more seriously than I take anything. I would die for the Lords of Carnage, in a heartbeat. And they all know it.

We’ve been talking about two potential guys to do the runs to Dos Santos for us. One’s Dominic. The other’s a buddy of Bama’s named Greg Davakis. Davakis runs a bunch of laundromat/dry cleaner places in towns around Ironwood. He’s got a fleet of vans, all with the Laundry Doctor logo on them. Perfect camouflage.

Both Dom and Greg Davakis have the capacity to move the guns.

Bama vouches for Davakis.

Now Axel is asking me if I vouch for Dominic.

“He’s my brother,” I say. “He wants to move back to Ironwood. Settle here permanently. If that’s what he wants, he ain’t about to fuck over the club that runs this area.”

Mal nods. So do Yoda and Gage.

“I don’t like it,” Bama drawls. “Your brother’s too close to you. He ain’t one of the Lords. How do we know we can trust him? How do we know where your loyalties would lie, if it came down to it?”

Bama fixes me with a steady eye. He and I have a history of conflict. Something about him has always rubbed me the wrong way, and the feeling’s fuckin’ mutual.

“Why ain’t him bein’ Dante’s brother a good thing?” Mal challenges. “Dante knows him better than you know Davakis.”

“Every man’s got a price,” Gage pipes up, his features set. “So, Dante’s brother and Bama’s friend both wanna work for us. But what if after we hire one of them, someone else offers them a price that’s higher?” He looks from me to Bama. “How do we know they can be trusted? Loyal?”

“Greg ain’t gonna fuck us,” Bama barks. His features spread into a steely grin. “Besides, his whole business is in Ironwood and around the area. He knows better than to shit where he lives.” He nods to me. “Dante’s brother don’t even live here. We don’t know a fuckin’ thing about him. Except which bitch shoved him out her cunt.”

A flash of white-hot anger bursts through me as I rise half out of my chair. Beside me, Mal coughs loudly, giving me a sharp look and a quick shake of the head.

I freeze, about to ignore him, but the split second he slows me down makes me realize he’s right.

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