Page 6 of Jacked and Jaded

Jackson kept a lookout from his vantage point, standing next to the van for anybody trying to make a move against the Sons. He watched as Race made the final negotiations to end their contract with Edward Gladstone, Boulder’s very own crime lord. Word was, Edward grew up on the streets of Boulder and worked his way up through the ranks of the Hanover organization until he took out the head man and claimed the business for himself. He was ambitious and bold. Two things that had served him well.

If things went the way Race wanted them to go, the Sons would be out of the gun business after one more shipment. The prez was wanting to take on something new. He wanted to get in on the marijuana trade. Since its legalization, businesses had been popping up everywhere and businesses needed suppliers. Since the Sons had been dealing in weed for years, Race thought, why not do it legally and reach a bigger clientele without the fear of getting busted. They were already known for having the best product in the state. All they needed to do was take it straight to a legit market and they’d be doubling their money in no time.

Dagger and Jackson’s dad, Maverick, had filled out the necessary paperwork, paid the fees—of which there were many—and things were ready to go. The club purchased property about five miles out of town that already had a huge one-story building with high ceilings on it. It was in the process of being converted into a growing house for their new business venture. With the increase in numbers of the brothers being added to their ranks, they were also in the process of building a new clubhouse on the property.

The whole property was fifty acres total, a little more than 3/4 of which was woods. The new clubhouse would sit on three acres at the front of the property, running along Kastner Road. They were going to build a ten-foot fence around the three acres, enclosing the new grow house, the new clubhouse, a garage and a big area for entertaining in the back. There was going to be a fire pit and picnic tables set up, as well as a grilling area under a ten-foot overhang near the clubhouse. They all voted to have a garage as well to allow the brothers living at the clubhouse full-time someplace to work on their bikes.

The grow house workers would access the building from a gravel road that came off of Kastner Road and ran alongside the three acres. They would only be given access to the building from the front. They would not be given access to the rest of the Sons property from this building. Only the brothers would have access through a back door, allowing them to come and go as they needed.

The clubhouse itself was going to be two stories and have a full basement. The ground level floor would have the bar, kitchen and several rooms with private bathrooms for the brothers. Upstairs would be more brothers’ rooms with private bathrooms and the basement would be set up with a large media room and more rooms with bathrooms.

Jackson was sure people were going to wonder how a motorcycle club was able to get a growing license for weed. Because when it was brought up in church, he’d wondered that himself. He found out that according to the state of Colorado, as long as the license holders were twenty-one or older, did not work for the local or state authorities, were free of convictions for the last ten years and discharged of any felony convictions for the last five years, they could do it. Now they were legal suppliers for medical and retail marijuana. Who’d have thought?

Of course, they still had their protection business on the side. They sometimes escorted shipments from one place to the next for a price. They’d come close to getting caught more than a few times over the years. With them getting into legalized marijuana growing, they couldn’t afford to get busted with anything else. Jackson thought it was a matter of time before they got out of the protection business, too. Time would tell.

He watched as Race and Edward wrapped things up by shaking hands and clapping shoulders. Race turned and waved for him and Trick to carry the crates over. Two of Edward’s men stepped in to help with the unloading, making things move quicker. Jackson watched Race accept a backpack from Edward and knew their business here was done. He closed the back of Edward’s van and hurried back to theirs just in time to see Race toss the backpack into the backseat.

“How’d it go? Edward cool with us getting out of the gun business?” Jed asked.

Raced rubbed his whiskered jaw before he answered. “He wasn’t happy, but he understood it wasn’t personal. It’s just a better business move for the Sons. He told me something interesting, though. He said there’s been talk in Boulder that a couple groups might not be so happy that we’re switching gears. He said he’d keep an ear out and let us know if there was anything we needed to take seriously.”

“Well, fuck. I wonder who he was talking about and what they’re more pissed about? Taking the majority of our weed off the streets or that we’re no longer running guns?” Jed slung his leg over his bike and started it up.

All good questions, Jackson thought to himself. He hopped on his bike and was getting ready to pull out when Trick shouted above the noise. “You guys wanna head to Bottoms Up?”

“Yeah, sounds good.” They’d made the exchange on a mostly deserted back road, but Jackson checked for traffic anyway before pulling out. It took almost an hour to get to the strip club and Jackson was dying for a drink. He took his helmet off, stuck it in his saddle bag and waited for Trick, Jed and Tuck to do the same.

They entered the club, paid their cover charge and scoped things out, looking for a booth off to the side somewhere. Tuck tapped his arm and pointed toward one that was just becoming empty. On the way to the table, Trick stopped one of the waitresses and asked her to bring four beers and keep them coming. They all slid into the rounded booth and settled in for the show.

Bottoms Up had the reputation for being the best strip club around. The women were beautiful, the booze was strong and the VIP section was the best he’d seen anywhere. He recognized the next dancer as one of the women he’d taken upstairs to one of the private rooms. Her name was Sherry, had big tits, long legs and any easy smile. She was studying to be a school teacher and was close to getting her degree. He smiled as she came on stage dancing to Van Halen’s “Hot For Teacher.” She spun around the pole, dipped, shimmied and strutted toward the audience. Shooting a wink Jackson’s way, she ripped her shirt open and shook her tits at him. Nice. Maybe he might get him a little more of that after he had a couple of beers and had a chance to cool down. The fact that Sherry knew it was only sex and nothing more would come of it kept him coming back to her. He liked that she knew it was just sex and nothing more.

Their beers were dropped off at the table and everyone’s gaze was drawn to the stage as she climbed the pole, leaned back and held her position by gripping her thighs. Yep. That right there was what made sex with Sherry fun. She could hold on with her legs around your waist in any position. Hell, he tried doing her against the wall, but she’d pushed off and bounced herself up and down on his cock.

They watched as she slid down the pole upside down, her tits all but spilling out of her sparkly white bra. She held tight to the pole with her hands and dropped her feet to the floor. Dancing toward the front again, she turned her back to the crowd and removed her short skirt at the same time she bent at the waist, revealing her g-string. Her ass was tight and so fucking smooth. She glanced over her shoulder, teasing the crowd with her come-get-me smile. As the song was winding down, she turned to the front, reached for the clasp at the front of her bra and whipped it open. The crowd roared. Jackson grinned from ear to ear. The girl knew her shit.

“Why are you on your phone, when there’s half naked women all around?” Tuck was asking Trick.

“When I texted Michelle this morning, she said Reagan wasn’t feeling very good. I was just checking up on her.” Trick finished his text and set it down on the table, face up.

“You get the kids tonight?” Jed asked.

“No. In the morning.” His phone dinged and he picked it up. “Damn. She says Reagan has an ear infection. She took her to the doctor and he put her on some antibiotics.”

“Will Michelle still let you have her tomorrow if she’s sick?” Tuck asked.

Trick snorted. “Hell yeah. It’s Saturday. She’s not about to miss out on a night of partying. It wouldn’t surprise me if she texted and said I could have them tonight if I want.”

“You gonna take them early?” Jackson wondered. Knowing how Trick was with his kids, if he could have them full-time he’d take it. Any time Michelle decided she needed to take off and do something, she’d dump the kids off on Trick. His friend didn’t mind. He loved those kids more than his next breath. There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for Reagan and Keegan.

“Yep. Any time I can get them extra is fine by me. I’ve been talking to a lawyer, trying to find out if I have a chance at taking her to court and getting full custody. So far, it’s not looking good.” He took a drink of his beer. “I swear the man is just taking my money. I haven’t seen any results, other than my child support keeps going up.”

“We need to all go pay him a visit and sort him out?” Tuck wanted to know. If Trick said yes, they’d all be on there bikes and out the door. They’d pay a visit to the man ripping off Trick and remind him he was fucking with a Sons of Redemption.

Trick sighed heavily. “No. I got it. I have an appointment in a few weeks. If he hasn’t made any progress by then, I’ll set him straight and find another lawyer.” His phone dinged again. He checked and shook his head. “Told you. One of the kids is sick, so she wants to drop them off early. Shit. I need to go to the grocery store. I haven’t been since the last time I had them.” He rubbed his hand over his face, then smacked Jed on the arm. “Scoot. Let me out. I gotta go.”

Jackson hated to see him go, but he hated seeing Michelle using him the way she did. From what he said, the bitch was getting almost half his paycheck from the club. Race had to resort to paying him cash for anything he’d earned above his regular share so Michelle couldn’t take it. Sadly, that part seemed to be going to the crooked lawyer. The poor guy was barely getting by. He hoped something swung in Trick’s favor and soon.

Most people would be surprised that big, bad bikers could be excellent, loving fathers. They were fierce, they were protective and they’d give their kidney in a heartbeat if their kid needed it. Mess with a man’s kids and you mess with his heart. Heaven help the fucker stupid enough to try.

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