Page 45 of Reaper & the Lioness
I cracked it open and took a long pull from the bottle, fighting to keep my face neutral. “I’m busy running a company all day. Now I’m here to talk club business.”
“Oh, I know. But I also know you. I bet she’s getting under your skin more than you’re willing to admit. And I’ve seen the way you look at her. Boys, I think Reaper has a crush on our consultant.”
I glared at him as I drained the bottle. He could read me like a damn book. I reached behind the bar for another beer as I ignored the jeering from the guys.
Once the rest of the club’s officers trickled in, we headed to Thane’s office for Church.
“Has the shit Danielle’s stirred up settled yet?” I asked after calling the meeting to order.
Linc huffed. “Not according to her Facebook. But she’s lost momentum. Enough people watched the city hall debacle, and some people are starting to push back. One Facebook group even kicked her out.”
Thane stroked his goatee. “I’ve been thinking,” he said, pausing as he collected his thoughts. “As much as we fucking hate her, that kid still belongs to one of our fallen brothers. Usually, we take care of old ladies and the family if a brother passes.”
I gritted my teeth. “She was never a fucking old lady.”
Thane leveled a look at me and held up one finger. I silenced my opposition out of respect. Barely.
“She wasn’t. But I think we can make this problem go away. I think we have enough in the Maverick Widows’ Trust to set up a college fund for Sebastian. Kid’s only nine.”
“So, we make her a deal?” Jack asked, pulling his phone from his pocket and tapping a few keys. As treasurer, he tracked our accounting and investments.
“She has a GoFundMe for the kid’s outstanding medical bills,” Linc added. “Says she owes $27,000. Only about $7,000 has been funded so far.”
Jack turned his phone to face us, showing the cash we had on hand in the fund dedicated to helping the women and children left behind when a club member unexpectedly died. “Let’s say college costs $160,000 in ten years. We could give her an even $200,000. I can write a check for $20,000 to the hospital for the bills.”
Thane nodded. “I remember Russell saying Danielle blew through money like a goddamn QVC addict, so we sure as fuck aren’t giving her the cash directly.”
Jack slipped his phone back into his pocket. “I can set up a trust for Sebastian. He gets it when he turns eighteen. Keeps her grimy fucking fingers off it and honors Russell.”
I tapped my fingers on the table. “You think she’ll back off?”
Thane scoffed. “She’ll have to. I’ll have the lawyer draw something up. We only pay the bills if she agrees to never speak another word about the Lone Star Mavericks MC. All in favor, say aye.”
Unanimous ayes rumbled through the room. It was the right move to support the kid, even though we fucking hated his mom. Had she not been a pain in our assess since the day of the accident, we’d probably have made the offer out of the goodness of our hearts—or whatever you call the thing in our chest that kept most of us from becoming complete menaces to society.
“Good,” Thane grumbled. “I never want to hear her fucking name again.”
“Now that we’ve settled that issue, let’s move on,” I said, changing the subject before Hatchet said her name just to piss Thane off. “What’s the status on the Ranger situation?”
The mood in the room shifted. “We got a message this morning,” Merrick said. “From their president.”
“And?”
Thane’s earlier grin shifted into a grim expression. “Hickok wants a sitdown. Wants to talk about a truce.”
I shook my head. “I don’t believe that for one fucking second.” The Rangers were a festering wound. If we didn’t deal with them soon, the infection would spread.
Thane flexed his jaw. “You’re right. We’ll plan it today. We take the meeting to them and give them three choices—they either stay the fuck out of Houston, patch over, or die. And no matter what they choose, they stop slinging dirty coke. Rodriguez told me two college kids OD’d on fentanyl-laced blow last weekend.”
“If Hickok’s calling for a truce, it’s because he’s scared or he’s setting a trap,” Merrick said. “They’ll never patch over. The Rangers will never give us peace. We’ve been their enemy since my dad started this club.”
I cracked my neck, working my jaw to release the tension. “So, we go in hot. We know we won’t get peace, so we give them an ultimatum instead. I met Poe, the VP, at Sturgis. I’ve heard he and a few guys are tired of Hickok’s shit. They might welcome the end of an era. A fresh start.”
Thane tilted his head, catching my drift. “You think they’ll turn on him?”
I shrugged. “Hickok’s just been running the club into the ground.”
Thane lit a cigarette. “Either way, we’re probably sending him packing with a bullet. He’s been a plague to Texas for too long.”
