Page 52 of Gotta Dig Deep
Horse
Horse frowned down at the incoming video call on his phone. He connected and reached for a chair, dragging it over so he could perch comfortably. When the static dissolved, he was treated to a close-up of Gunny’s nostrils and one eye. Startled, he choked on a swallow of coffee, narrowly missing spewing it all over the phone.
“Jesus, man. Give a brother warning he’s about to be checking your sinuses.”
Gunny pulled back, a heavy frown on his face. “There was something on the lens. You know what, shut your piehole. I called for a reason.”
“Yeah, your calls are always for a reason. Lay it on me, brother.” He rested his elbow on the counter, propping his head in one hand, the other still holding the phone. With everything swirling around, Blackie had tasked Gunny with letting Bane know the score. It had meant Horse could stay here, with Glenna—just in case.
Right. Just in case. Keep tellin’ yourself that, man.
“You talk to Blackie in the last six hours?” Gunny’s question was clipped, terse.
Horse straightened, all humor fading away. “No. Last contact I had was yesterday.”
“Well, you should call him. He’s got news. Myron dug a little deeper. Bane’s beyond, man. It’s something big, I think.”
Myron had become a resource the FRMC was glad to have access to on occasion. Horse wasn’t surprised that Blackie had activated that contact, but he was surprised to hear about it from Gunny.
“I’m guessing Bane took what’s going on badly. Sonuvabitch. I hate he had to find out at all, much less before things were settled. Why don’t you tell me the news, save me the trouble of buggin’ the old man.” Horse’s stomach roiled, apprehension twisting through his guts.
“Well, that’s the thing. I get the sense it’s not something he’s gonna pass on your direction, but I disagree. Sincerely disagree with that assessment.” Gunny drew the phone closer to his face again. “However, as a patch holder and officer, I don’t want to go directly against the national president, but this call seemed a way to edge around the sides of things.”
“So you’re calling me to tell me you can’t tell me anything, but that you think Blackie knows something. Is that about right?”
“Ayeap. So you should call him.” Gunny sighed. “Or I could just patch him into this call. He’s dialin’ my ass right now.”
“Bring him in, brother.”
The screen grayed out for a few moments, then came back with a split view, one half showing Gunny and the other framing Blackie’s face.
“Prez,” Horse greeted him. “I can hang up if you don’t want me on the call.”
“No.” Blackie sighed heavily, the weariness in his voice warning Horse that whatever was coming, it held weight. “Stay. Easier this way since this motherfucker decided to stick his big schnoz into things.”
“My nose is average size.” Gunny’s eyebrows wiggled. “My dick, on the other hand, is way above.”
“Not the topic of the day, brother.” Blackie’s scold was slight, hardly there, unlike his usual comebacks. “Horse, I tagged Mason for an assist, and he had Myron spin up his miracle gadgets. In all of that, he found the Monster Devils are involved, but it hits a little closer to home too.”
“MDMC is close to home for me. I know you remember my mother and the treatment she suffered at their hands. I won’t ever let that shit drop, and you know it a hundred percent.” Horse struggled to keep his tone level. “What’s going on?”
“First, the why. We already knew they were lookin’ to expand their base of operations. Rumor says they were going to turn the Snyder place into a whorehouse, and you and I know that’s code for trafficking. They’d be lookin’ for leverage clients they could threaten to dox, so they’d add shakedown to their unpublished schedule of services offered. Once they had the money rollin’ in, they’d bankroll a clubhouse in town and tie it to a legitimate business. What they didn’t count on was you bein’ smackdab in the middle of their where and when.” The tension in his face didn’t change, didn’t relax, so Horse knew there was more to it than just chance.
“And what you aren’t sayin’ is…” He waited.
Blackie’s lips thinned and his gaze bored into Horse for a long minute of silence. Then he ground out, “Roscoe is tied in.”
“Roscoe?” The disbelief in his voice brought a quick snarl of teeth from Blackie. Gunny was frowning, and it was likely he didn’t know the whole of the story, since he’d come into the club so long after it all went down. “Seriously? That fuckin’ weasel hasn’t raised his head in years, man. Years.”
“It goes still deeper, brother.” Blackie snorted humorlessly. “Dale patched into the MDMC about three months ago. A couple weeks after Roscoe did.”
“Fucking hell. Dale too?”
“Someone wanna clue me in on this shit?” Gunny’s ire was reflected in his hot gaze. “I’d like to buy a vowel, please.”
“Roscoe is my blood. I’d say he was my brother, but he tried to kill me too many times for me to count that as truth. Horse’s first act as an unofficial Freed Rider was takin’ Roscoe down in a parking lot as he tried to shoot me. And Dale is an FRMC cut.” Blackie laid it out there for Gunny.
“And Dale’s also Duane’s in-law family. That made things string out longer than they should have, I think. He was cut the same night I got my patch, so he’s always had a hard-on for me.” Horse shook his head. “It doesn’t seem right to think about them patched, even into a shitty outfit like the MDMC.”
