Page 4 of Property of Tacoma
“And I think it’s time we revisited the terms of our understanding.” He attempts a confident smile that comes off as a grimace. “I’m going to need to increase my... consultation fee.”
Bane and I exchange a look. So that’s what this is about. The fat fuck wants more money.
“Tom,” I say evenly, swirling the whiskey in my glass. “We already pay you more than enough to keep the Odin PD looking the other way while our trucks move through town. Your ‘consultation fee’ is already more than generous.”
“Times change, Tacoma.” Camden’s voice takes on an edge I’ve never heard from him before. “I’ve been very accommodating to your club’s activities in my town. Very accommodating indeed.”
I lift a brow. The balls on this motherfucker seem to have dropped.
“Your town?” Gator asks, his voice deceptively calm.
The Kings of Anarchy MC has been in Odin since this prick was in diapers. My father and his brothers established this charter back in the early eighties, building it into one of the strongest on the East Coast. The clubhouse sits on one hundred acres just inside the town limits, land that’s been in our name longer than the mayor’s been alive.
“Figure of speech,” Camden backpedals, but his eyes have a calculating gleam. “All I’m saying is that I’ve been a good friend to the Kings. I think that friendship is worth a little more now.”
I lean back, studying him. Something’s different tonight. Camden’s always been greedy, but he’s never had the balls to push for more. “What’s changed, Tom?”
A flicker of something—fear, guilt, I can’t tell which—crosses his face before he recovers. “Nothing’s changed. I’m just being practical. My silence is a valuable commodity.”
“Your silence,” I repeat slowly, “has been fairly compensated for years. What makes you think that’s going to change now?”
Camden’s eyes narrow slightly. “Well, Tacoma, I’d hate to see anything... disrupt the peaceful life you’ve built here. Especially given your history.”
The temperature around the table drops ten degrees. Did he just threaten me? I cock my head to the side, trying to get a read on our good old mayor, but with all the drugs in his system, he’s harder to peg tonight.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Bane growls.
Camden licks his lips nervously but pushes forward. “Just that, as a felon, your brother here walks a fine line. One anonymous tip about those trucks of yours, and he could find himself back in Florida State Prison.”
My jaw tightens, but I keep my expression neutral. This little weaseldid,in fact, threaten me.
“And those beautiful children of yours,” Camden continues, his confidence growing with each word, “would end up right backin Sea Grove with that ex-wife of yours. What’s her name again? Jennifer?”
I can feel the rage building. The monster I keep on a tight leash is standing at attention, ready to strike. Before I can even think, I’m lunging across the table, whiskey glasses scattering as I reach for his throat. The cocksucker has no idea who he’s fucking with. I’ll snatch the life right out of him.
Luckily, or maybe unluckily depending on how you look at it, Bane’s lightning-fast reflexes stop me.
“Easy, brother.” His strong grip pulls me back before I can get my hands around Camden’s fat neck.
“You don’t ever mention my fucking kids,” I snarl, my voice carrying a tone that everyone at this table knows means someone’s about to die. “You understand me?”
Camden’s face has gone from ruddy to white as chalk, his eyes wide with genuine fear. He scrambles backward, nearly falling out of the booth in his haste to put distance between us.
“You’re making a mistake,” he stammers, standing now, straightening his rumpled jacket with shaking hands. His earlier bravado is gone, replaced by naked fear, but there’s something else there too—a desperate determination. “You think you run this town, but things are changing. You’ll see, Tacoma. You can’t stop what’s coming.”
“Is that right?” Bane’s hand on my shoulder tightens, and hand to God it’s the only thing saving this motherfucker's life. “You threatening me, Tom? Threatening my family? My club? Do I need to teach you a lesson on whynobodyfucks with the Kings?”
The mayor’s face flushes beet red. “Take it however you want, Benson. But your days of calling the shots in Odin are numbered. You think about my offer. Carefully.” He backs away, nearly tripping over his own feet. “I’ll be in touch.”
We watch in shocked silence as Camden practically runs for the exit, shouldering past a group of patrons without even apologizing.
“What the fuck was that?” Bash asks as soon as the door closes behind him.
I shake my head, the rage still pulsing behind my eyes. “Something’s not right. Camden’s never had the balls to come at us like this before.”
“You think he’s working with someone else?” Gator asks, already on his phone, no doubt texting our tech guy, Cyber, to start digging.
“I don’t know. Between us and the Saints, there aren’t any players in the game who’d dare step on our toes,” I say, even though my mind is racing through the possibilities.
