Page 33 of Ripper
“I’m running out of fucking space. That stunner down at Jess’s really has my fucking heart. Redheads man, they always do it for me. Claymore looks like he has everything under control,” he said.
“Yeah, well, we’ll see about that when the fun actually begins. If they can’t hold their own and get us what we need, then they gotta go. We don’t have time to waste especially because we have absolutely no fucking idea what Ray’s even planning. All I know is that I could practically smell the damn trouble from a mile away.”
“That fucker can keep trying. He ain’t got shit on us and with our fresh meat, he won’t get nearly as close as he did last time,” said Ink.
The mere mention of the last time we had a face-off with Ray and the rest of the Freeway Fucks made my wound pulsate.
“Did Tank tell you guys about the visit I had?”
“What visit?” asked Claymore, approaching us.
He kicked up sand under his feet while the prospects were starting up their engines, gathering the shit they needed, and got ready for their trial run.
“The bitch is back,” I murmured.
“You gotta be fucking kidding me. She’s been in the wind for so many fucking years, and now she decides to show up? What the fuck does she want?”
“I have no idea. The timing’s fucked though with what happened at Tease. I’d be a fucking idiot to think this shit’s unrelated. I’m gonna keep an eye out for her. I think it’s best you all do too. She’s got a knack for weaseling her way back into our damn business,” I warned them.
“Yeah, don’t worry. We got your back. At least your new lady isn’t a power-hungry psychopath.”
“No, she isn’t. She’s nothing like Anna. Speaking of Ronnie. She’s asked to join the club. I’m gonna talk to Tank about it when we get back. I think it would be good for her,” I said.
“You sure she’s up for it? You sure she can deal with what we’re about to put these fuckers through?”
“She’s gotta be. Her dad’s fucking Hammerhead. That’s enough,” Claymore chimed in, and I nodded.
“You’re damn right.”
“We’re ready!” one of the prospects called out.
“Yeah, we’re coming!”
Claymore put his hand on my shoulder and we walked over to our bikes.
“Let’s get this shit started.”
Claymore rode front on this one. I kept a good distance behind the pack with Ink by my side so we could keep a close eye on their every move. Claymore had all the backup he needed in case shit were to hit the fan, and I couldn’t wait to see how this was gonna turn out. Tank was expecting some fuckers that were good for it, and that’s exactly what we had to deliver to him. I thought about Ronnie, about what he might say when I brought it up, but I could tell just from the look in her eyes when I was at the Tavern that she really wanted this. I wanted to give it to her. I wanted to give her the fair shot she deserved.
We arrived outside the old coat factory. I hung back with Ink while we watched the prospects closely tail the lone bikers that pulled in for a moment to rest. It was comforting not having to be the ones to barge in there for the score this time, but we pulled out our guns, staying at the ready in case shit were to go down. I heard the pained groans erupt moments later and I rushed to one of the side windows to look in. I felt Ink follow close behind me, and when we finally had a look inside, I was impressed to find that the lone bikers were down. Claymore watched as the prospects loaded the goods into their duffel bags, and we were damn well gonna make it outta here before those fuckers woke up.
“You did good. Head back to the clubhouse to drop those off. Tank will deal with the rest of the drop. Report back tomorrow morning so we can begin the real work,” Claymore told them.
We watched as they all took off in a hurry, leaving the three of us to saunter on back to our bikes and enjoy the ride home. It felt good not having to shed too much blood this time around, but I knew it was only a matter of time before those very same prospects were in the line of fire with the rest of us.
“So, they’re good enough to handle a few goons, but let’s see what happens when they gotta deal with the real shit,” said Ink.
“Things are looking up. We might be able to make Tank’s numbers by the end of the month.”
This was the fastest we’d ever tried to expand the club, but for good reason. We all knew what we were dealing with here, and when it came to protecting our turf, we weren’t gonna spare any damn expense.
Claymore, Ink, and I started up our bike engines, tearing through the side streets for the next half hour until we were back on the highway, heading back to the clubhouse.
***
The clubhouse was pretty quiet when I arrived. I heard Wrench in the garage, probably tuning his bike. Claymore and Ink grabbed themselves two beers and headed out to the back porch to blow off steam, but I was on a mission. I searched through the common areas of the house looking for Tank, but when I made my way to the small doorway under the stairs, I noticed it was cracked open. I knocked on the small study door, hearing a low, monotonous voice tell me to come in. Tank was sitting at his desk peering over some ledgers, counting the cash we’d made over the last week, and even though we were back in the black, he still seemed worried.
“Ripper. How’d everything go?”
