Page 9 of Bastard

All the way, baby.

All the way. That meant doing whatever it took to make all these plans come together.

“We need to plan for some contingencies.”

“What kind of contingencies?” Riddick sat back, folding his arms over his chest. He was probably a little offended since it was his job to plan for every possible scenario.

“Me.” I knew I was right after the word left my mouth and all I felt was relief. “We need to plan for losing me.”

“What the fuck, man?” Home Run jerked back.

“Yeah, I’m with him. What the fuck man?” Storm thumbed at Home Run.

Riddick stared me down. He understood. “Okay.”

Storm and Home Run’s eyes bugged. “Okay? Okay what? What am I missing right now?” Storm said.

Riddick didn’t look away from me. “Jace is the lightning rod. We need to plan for losing him. It could be as simple as protecting Sam with his life, but what if Todd somehow figures us out? A Python finally gets his revenge? A lot of people think taking Red out can solve their problems.”

“And Sam can’t lose her protection when she needs it most,” Home Run finished quietly. As my brothers they’d pick up after me and keep my woman safe. “Fuck. Okay. We plan to lose you.”

“It’s bad luck,” Storm muttered, “but I’ll do it.”

I got where they were coming from. In general we tried not to put ideas into the universe. The universe was usually twisted enough to follow through. “It’s not bad luck. It’s the life we lead.”

I scheduled all my meetings for the afternoon because my brothers were usually too hungover to be useful before noon if they didn’t have a shift scheduled. The meeting room had windows that looked into the next building, so we usually had the blinds closed. It made the room dark and muted, which suited the business we conducted inside it. There was the usual drop ceiling overhead, wood flooring, and an enormous wood table in the middle. On the wall with the door, a large wood cabinet hid a computer, a few weapons, one of the club safes, and my bourbon collection.

I drummed my fingers on the table. After an hour of going over financials on every aspect of Devil’s Wrath with the heads of each division, I was done. “Any questions?”

Skeeter raised his hand. He was in charge of the gambling arm of the club. “I’ve got my marching orders. I’m good.”

I moved only my eyes from him to the man next to him, Aces. He had shoulder length light brown hair that made some women jealous. He nodded once. “Bars and restaurants are straight.”

I got yeses from Todd’s Chubbies who handle the drugs and guns I wanted nothing to do with, then finished with an affirmative from Riddick on security.

“Then let’s adjourn this fucking meeting.”

Most of the guys left. Riddick and Aces stayed behind. I generally liked Aces. He wasn’t a Chubbie but I also didn’t entirely trust him. He worked too closely with Todd to be a safe bet.

Since my next meeting was with Todd, I decided it was time to break out the good bourbon. The main bar out in the living area had a good selection, but if I put my favorites out there I’d never get any.

“What we drinking today, boss man?” Aces bent closer as I slid the wooden doors open. Inside were glass tumblers and six bottles.

I pulled out glasses for the three of us before selecting a bottle of Weller. It wasn’t the best or most expensive, but it was damn hard to find these days. Plus it tasted great, and I could really use a great bourbon right about now.

“Oh I think I remember liking this one.” Aces swirled it around, holding it up to the light. “Hey, by the way, took your advice and stocked up on Blue Cask. Jacked up the price. Customers think it’s some rare high-quality bourbon, just like you said.”

I came across this cheap bourbon at a tasting a few months back. I would have sworn it was an expensive bourbon. I’ve tried them all, cheap, middle of the road, expensive. I usually knew what I was tasting. But that one came out of the blue. I was so surprised I bought six bottles on the spot. Then I invested in the company and instructed Aces to start stocking it in our bars and restaurants. Hopefully we were making money on the company and our markup.

“Everything’s running smooth?”

He shrugged. “As smooth as can be expected.”

“When we came into the Saloon last night the hostess looked pretty horny for trouble.”

His eyes darted away as he thought. “Lori. Blonde? Early twenties?”

“Sounds right.”

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