Page 90 of Paladin's Hell

“They wouldn’t. But I’d be tempted to keep my eye on everyone who had knowledge. Which brothers knew, Prez?”

We’re definitely in focused-work mode when we both use our titles. “Pyro, Sparky and Mace. They’re the other two who put time in at the shop.”

Demon’s brow furrows. He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Those three are brothers I put one hundred percent trust in.”

“Look at it the other way around. Which wouldn’t you?”

“The prospects. They’re the only ones who haven’t proven themselves yet.”

“Any contact with the shop?”

“Runt was there when the delivery was made.”

So fingers would point in his direction, but, “Runt was the one who got shot.”

“Leave that for a moment,” Demon suggests. “Let’s talk about the drive-by. One car, one gun. Okay, a semi, but one pass wasn’t going to do much harm unless we were all congregated out front.”

“Lucky we were at the barbeque.”

“Indeed it was.” He rubs at his temples. “Either someone knew and wanted to cause fear, not fatalities, or they were unlucky not to take down more.”

I hadn’t looked at it that way. “Runt…?”

“Could have set himself up.”

It’s my turn to frown. “Hell of a risk, VP. An automatic fired from a car? Those bullets could have hit anywhere. Runt could have been killed.”

“Or he shot himself.”

Is that any more fanciful than anything else we discussed? I’m not going to dismiss it out of hand. “Did anyone check his wound? See what calibre bullet caused it?”

Demon’s head moves left and right. “I’ll ask Rusty, but I doubt he’d have looked. He just wanted to close it up to stop the bleeding.”

“The bullet. Can we search outside? See if we can find it. It went straight through.”

His mouth twitches, “If Runt was involved. If he did shoot himself, he’ll have picked up the evidence.”

I stand and start to pace. “Fuck, I don’t like this VP. We all know it’s why we make men prospect. So we can see what they’re made of. Sniff out a plant. Runt’s been here, what, nine, ten months? He’s close to getting his patch. Surely something would have shown up in the time he’s been with us. I’ve never had suspicions about him before.”

“Me neither. But the brothers? We’ve not had anyone patch in recently. Ink was the last, and that was two years ago. Smithy didn’t make the grade.”

As he refers to a prospect we parted company with, my head tilts. “Smithy?” His name has come up before. “Cad check him out? Are we sure he didn’t leave sour?”

Demon scoffs, “I’m certain, Prez. He was more relieved than upset. Thought he was going to ride his bike all the time and not turn his hands to work. When he realised he’d have to actually work for his cut, he didn’t think what we did was so glamourous. Anyway, yeah, Cad’s confirmed he’s gone.”

“And?”

Demon chuckles. “Headed off to LA last I heard. Think he was going to try to get in with the Wretched Soulz. A club, as he put it, with more guts.”

Well, if he failed with us, he’s unlikely to make it with the dominant club in California, and most of the Southwest come to that. It’s not the first time someone’s been enticed into the brotherhood after watching too much Sons of Anarchy.

“Fuckin’ hell.” I shake my head, then Demon and I exchange glances. Smithy fucks up with the Wretched Soulz he won’t be leaving with a polite handshake. Still, seems my VP’s right. Smithy has to be ruled out.

Demon jerks his chin. “Which makes everything come back to Runt. What do you want to do about him?”

That’s a very good question. Man’s worked hard. He’s determined to get his patch. But then, he would if he’s got an ulterior motive and wants to infiltrate the club. But some things don’t add up. “If Runt was a plant by the cops, he wouldn’t be so stupid as to fuck with us in the ways we’ve been fucked. It’s almost childish retaliation.”

“Childish? Shooting up the club?”

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