Page 115 of Bronco

“Ever wondered if it’s because your pops cares about you?” Rock suggests. “Some kids don’t have a parent who gives a shit about what they’re doin’ or who they’re with.”

“Great, now you’re trying to make me feel bad,” she grumbles.

“Stop changin’ the subject. Spill what you know.” I point at her. “Keepin’ shit from us won’t sit well around the table.”

“You wouldn’t, Bronco.” Her tone suggests that in fact, maybe I would, but she isn't quite sure. “That’s a bullshit move.”

I don’t give her an inch. She’s Harlem’s kid, and she’s smart. If there’s anyone in this clubhouse able to get information out of a cop, it’s her. I also don’t want to think about exactly how she got that information. That’s Harlem’s problem, not mine. “Spill.”

“Fine. I saw him downtown and he was asking about the Cut City Boys.”

I sit up a little straighter. Stella may not be around the meeting table, but she’s got ears, and all the women talk amongst themselves. We’re not stupid. “And? What did you tell him?”

“I didn’t tell him shit, but he told me to watch my back and don’t be going anywhere alone.”

“That’s awfully chivalrous of him, but that’s not groundbreakin’. You got anythin’ more, because me and Rock are aging over here and we got shit to do.”

“He told me the Cut City Boys were funded by some external organization, or were going to be before the raid,” she says.

We both stare at her. Why would Callaghan, a clear enemy of the MC, tell her that?

“What the fuck?” Rock barks. “When did he tell you this?”

“A few days ago.”

I give her a chin lift. “Which organization?”

“He didn’t say.”

Rock glances at me. “Gotta be the Disciples. Bane will know if he hasn’t already started diggin’.”

“Who are the Disciples?” Stella comes a little closer. “So they’re based in Mississippi? Is it a rival MC?”

I shoot Rock a look. Great. Now she’s got club business information ready to share with the rest of the women. “Forget you heard that,” I say. “He say anythin’ else?”

“Just to be careful. Now that Cut City Boy’s reign of terror is over, there’s always some new threat to the neighborhood,” she goes on.

I fold my arms over my chest. “Why’s he so fuckin’ interested in tellin’ you shit? You shouldn’t be talkin’ to him.”

“You can’t tell me who I can and can’t talk to, I’m a grown ass adult. He’s also a customer, and he was just being nice.”

Rock and I both snort. “Right,” Rock mumbles.

“Don’t tell him shit, Stell, I mean it,” I warn her. “He’s lookin’ for anythin’ he can to pin shit on this club, and you know what that means for all of us.”

She shoots me an evil glare. “There you go again, treating me like I’m a child. I told you I would never tell him anything, but you attract more bees with honey than you do with vinegar, Bronc.”

“I hope you’re not givin’ him any honey,” I throw back. “The guys a first class asswipe, and he’s only butterin’ you up to see what you know.”

“It’s lucky I’m good at playing dumb then, isn’t it? I love this club, and as nice as Cale is to me, that doesn’t mean I’d give him anything. I’m smarter than that. He was clearly letting me know about the organization so I’d tell you, and I’m trying to figure out why he’d do that.”

Rock meets my gaze. “She has a point,” Rock says. “Question is, why’s he stirrin’ shit and talkin’ to Stella instead of bein’ a real man and comin’ to the club directly?”

“Because she’s a chick and he wants her to do his dirty work, and she won't tell him to fuck off, will you, Stell?”

She pokes her tongue out at me. “I’m not doing dirty work. He seemed genuinely concerned.”

“Well, this club is quite capable of lookin’ after its property,” Rock mutters. “Would be good to knock that prick on his ass.”

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