Page 13 of Lawless
JANDRO
Idrummed my fingers on the long conference table stretched out in front of me. Reaper sat to my left, hands folded calmly in his lap, and Hades lying at his feet like usual. Tom, the owner of this service station, sat across from us, visibly nervous and sweating.
Any man with two brain cells to rub together would have seen this meeting coming, but Tom chose to play dumb. That might have worked with some little wannabe MC, but not with us.
"When we made our protection agreement, I assumed your club would be around to, you know, protect me," Tom whined. "Andmy assets! Just last week, a bunch of masked thugs on dirtbikes rode up and took three of my girls. Expensive ones, too! And where the hell were you guys?"
My fingers closed into a fist as I opened my mouth to retort but Reaper raised a hand, asking me for silence. I closed my trap, fighting my temper to jump to my President and best friend's defense.
"We're not responsible for the consequences of your provocations," Reaper answered him. "You brought this on yourself, Tom. Our agreement was forprotection, not babysitting and cleaning up your messes."
Tom's face twisted into a well-practiced look of shock. If Hollywood didn't get swallowed by the ocean fifty years ago, he would have been nominated for an Oscar.
"Provocations? I have no idea what you're talking about! I run an honest business! I'm--"
"Shut the fuck up, old man," I snapped. "Don't talk to us like we're fucking idiots. We keep our ears to the ground and word spreads. We know. And everyone in the Southwest is going to learn how honest your business really is."
"What?!"
"I'm sure you can recall our agreement also included discretion. If you forgot, I have the original signed copy right here," Reaper tapped the left side of his cut. "So if you're as honest as you say, why would the bartender at the Shady Lady say you were bragging all night long about having the Steel Demons in your back pocket?"
A flash of panic passed through Tom's watery eyes. "Because she's a lying whore!"
"Or you're a lying sack of shit," I suggested. "You start making claims like that, people are going to test to see if they're true. You're basically the kid on the playground goading everyone with, 'my dad can beat up your dad.'"
"Okay, I might have told a couple of close friends after I had a few but it wasn't like that! It doesn't mean I deserve to have punks ransacking my business!"
"Actually, that's exactly what it means." Reaper rose to his feet, Hades loyally glued to his side, and I followed. "You agreed to discretion in exchange for reasonable protection. You've broken that agreement so the deal is off."
He started for the door and I fell in after him, leaving Tom to scramble desperately after us from the other side of the room.
"Wait! I haven't broken anything! I kept my side of the bargain! You have garages for your bikes, all the food you can eat, women to fuck, all because of me!"
I whipped around and thrust my palm in the center of Tom's chest, making him stumble back with fear in his eyes.
"You accuse my president of lying again and you're a dead man," I threatened in a low voice. "You're lucky to still be breathing right now after breaking a deal with us."
As Tom shivered like a chihuahua, Reaper turned slowly to face him again.
"Everything you provide, we can easily find somewhere else. But you'll never have the protection of an MC again, because they'll all know you can't be trusted."
Tom's mouth flopped open like a fish, glub-glubbing uselessly. I felt no sympathy for the bastard. He of all people should have known that in this world, where everything could be taken in an instant, a man's word was the most valuable thing he had.
I slapped him on the shoulder and gave him a shit-eating grin. "We leave before dawn tomorrow. And if it wasn't obvious, we won't be returning next month."
Reaper, Hades, and I left the room, already halfway down the hall and pulling out our cloves to smoke when Tom came tearing down after us.
"Wait!" He nearly tripped over his own feet to reach us. "Please rethink this! You're making a mistake."
"Tom, I don't know if you realized this," Reaper glared, his patience thinning as the black cigarette bobbed between his lips, "But you need us a lot more than we need you. It's not our fault you fucked it up."
"I know, I know. If you could just, maybe," he rubbed his shiny forehead, grasping at straws, "accept a parting gift! As my deepest apology, you can have Kitty. She's one of my best."
"No thanks," I scoffed, flicking open my Zippo to light up right in the hallway. "We aren't lacking in pussy. And even if we were, we prefer a higher quality."
"The kitchen girl, then!" Tom spoke quickly, reeking of desperation. "Gretchen. She's a good cook and young enough that she hasn't been fully broken in yet."
"No," Reaper barked with an air of disgust. "We don't deal in brainwashed children."
