Page 57 of Devil's Due: Sarge

To say he’s surprised to see us when we’re supposed to be arm deep in green today is a justifiable understatement. It might almost be funny except you can’t get anything past Vlad. He schools the surprise almost as soon as it flashes across his face, replacing it with the hardened face of an MC president.

Reap makes sure the door is shut all the way before we get down to the reason behind our visit. Since he saw the Benz, he gets to explain. It’s a quick exchange because in reality not much happened, though a whole shitload probably happened.

“How do you want to play this?” Vlad asks us.

“Well, I don’t want Greer knowing until we know who we’re dealing with.”

“Same,” he responds.

“My take,” Reap joins in. “We send brothers out undercover. It’s the only way to find out if it’s Feds or Florida.”

“Who do we put on it?” Vlad asks next.

“I saw the car. I’ll do it.” Reaper volunteers.

“I’m torn.” I lean against the wall, arms crossed over my chest. “If it’s about Greer, I should be there, but her family knows me.”

“Can’t risk it. Reap, take Cutter, he can blend in. Not too tall, no visible tatts.”

“On it.” Reap pats my arm and Vlad’s before heading out of the office.

“This fucking sucks.” Now that it’s the two of us, I drop into the one chair across from Vlad’s desk.

“We’ve dealt with worse.” He tries to reassure me. “But I want guards on the women all the time.”

“You want me up there or are you sending someone now?” I ask.

He pulls his cell from his pocket, swiping up. He presses one of the brother’s contacts, I can’t tell which until he says, “Jinx, want you up at the safehouse. Women got guard.” He pauses, then adds, “Our women. Greer and Nic. Don’t fuck this up.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “Is that smart? Putting a prospect on them? I mean, the man was a hanger-on before I left for Texas.”

“The man’s smarter and has proven to have better instincts than the prospects who’ve been with us longer. I trust him. He’s closer than us and it’ll give him the opportunity to earn his patch.”

“But after—”

“I hate that the virgin died, but if we have to mobilize, we need experienced men. Jinx can do this.”

It doesn’t sit right. We had a prospect on Nic and Greer when they first arrived in Kentucky. We called him ‘the virgin.’ His guts ended up all over the dirt and Nic got kidnapped. But Vlad’s my president. If that’s his order, that’s his order.

“This is the last thing we need now.” I shift to lean my elbow on the desk and rest my cheek in my hand. “I’m looking for a place for Greer and me. Living at the clubhouse full time doesn’t work when you’re trying to build a life. I want her to have a place she can put her stamp on.”

“You want a place where you can fuck on the couch or in the kitchen without a hundred brothers or bitches around.”

I chuckle. “Yeah… I want that too.”

“Why don’t you build on the property next to me and Nic? She’ll have her girl close by and there’ll always be brothers nearby. Can’t get much safer.”

“I’ll talk to Greer about it.” It’s not a bad idea at all. With nothing on the market around Bentley working out for us, this way we’d get exactly what we need.

After leaving the garage, I still have to head up to the grow house, but I end up taking the long way, keeping an eye out for any vehicles that might be following. When I turn down the quarter mile one-lane drive, all dirt and potholes, I wave at one of the cameras attached to one of the trees. Only someone who was there when the cameras were installed would know where they’re located.

The Kentucky landscape is peppered with these old homesteads. Most have either red brick with white wooden trim and porches, like this place, or white clapboard, same with the porches and siding—we own some of those as well.

This property has two barns and a tobacco house originally used for drying tobacco. Only two of the buildings are used for their original purposes. The farmhouse is where the brothers on shift spend their downtime. The product is too valuable to leave unattended. And the tobacco house, well, it houses a different herb for drying.

The brothers and I spend the next several hours getting the product ready for shipment. It’s good stuff. People are willing to pay top dollar for our shit. We’d brought in a grower well before Rage went off with that meth lab. The grower, he goes by Ganj, as in Ganja, developed his own breed. Super smooth and packs a punch. He liked the biker life so much that he prospected. Now Ganj runs the farm operations. We never needed the meth. That was greed. Rage’s greed.

My cut of this shipment alone will put me and Greer into a fucking great house. I’m ready to kick off my boots and decompress with my woman by the time I make it back to the compound.

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