Page 19 of Viking

“So we wait until she talks,” Meatball says.

Gator rolls his shoulders. “There’s a chance she won’t. We don’t know shit about this kid, Prez. Maybe she’s trying to protect those fuckers.”

“You haven’t seen the scars.” I scrape my hand over my face, and smooth my beard, remembering how she played with it in the back of the van, high on Propofol. “I don’t think that’s it. CJ says her vocal folds could be injured, or she may be nonverbal thanks to some psychological trauma.”

“She spoke in the van,” Meatball says. “‘Arie, be free’. We all heard it. That’s gotta be her name.”

“Could be anyone’s name,” Breaker says with a grin. “I’m sticking with LM.”

I clench my jaw. “I don’t give a shit what you call her, but she’s not saying jack shit for now. So we wait, and we put out feelers for this island. Niko has a thing out of town, but I’ll call and see if he’s heard anything about it. In the meantime, where are we with the ATF?”

“It’s clear someone’s been whispering sweet nothings in their ear,” Gator says. “Our gang friends with the coke won’t reschedule a meet. They got spooked.”

“Load of fuckin’ wankers,” Blue says.

“Any chance the rat is from their crew?” Breaker leans forward, resting his elbows on the table, his movements so heavy he accidentally ashes the joint in my hand. He’s one big motherfucker, built like Ymir—the ancestor of all jötnar. I’m no shrimp, but Breaker could easily throw me clear across the room, which is why I need to be careful when it comes to our rat.

“Maybe. We need to not rule out other ‘friendlies’, Godric had a beef with the Titans not too long ago. This could be retaliation from any surviving members, since I gave him my consent to take them off the board.”

“I’ll look into it,” Breaker says.

“Let me handle Godric. I owe him that much for getting those idiots off our back.” I wet my lips and zero in on Rat as I say, “Anyone have anything to bring to the table?”

The kid shakes his head.

“Nah, Prez. I think everyone’s said their piece,” Blue says.

I glance around the table at my patched members. We may be a small club compared to others, but I trust my brothers with my life, or I did. I glance at Rat—our newest patch. The name suits this rat-faced motherfucker—who’s looking a little green around the gills.

I bang the gavel and say, “Meeting adjourned”.

I take another hit from the spliff and exhale slowly as the brothers all stand to leave and I say, “Rat, you’re gonna tail Gator today.”

The kid nods, and Gator turns to me with a quizzical look.

“Rat, close the door.”

“Okay, Prez. Er ... do you want me in or out?”

“Out,” Gator and I say at the same time.

Blue pivots and comes back to the table. He’s my VP, and he doesn’t need an invitation.

Rat eyes the three of us suspiciously, and then closes the door behind him. Gator gives me a look that basically says, ‘what the fuck?’

“You’re saddling me with the kid because?”

“I got new intel from Godric. I dropped his name in church just now to see if Rat would take the bait.”

“You think Rat istherat?”

“Iknowhe’s the rat. Godric said this kid had been sniffing around the clubhouse a few years back, trying to muscle in as a hang around. Rumor has it he was some ATF hotshot, lookin’ to climb the ranks. Skipped town before they could pin anything on him.” I let out a long sigh. “Get this, Godric described him as a ‘rat-faced motherfucker’. I got curious, since there’s only one asshole I know of who looks like that.”

“Jesus.” Blue shakes his head. “But the ATF were on our backs long before he ever showed up.”

“Then he’s a plant,” Gator says.

I nod. “Seems that way.”

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