Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 121728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
“Makes sense. They can’t keep up with manning the businesses they’ve already bought as it is since they don’t have enough prospects. They were trying to grow too fast there for a split fucking second. Now, from what we can tell, they’re slowing down when it comes to purchasing more locations until they can get more members.” Crew scrubbed a hand over his short salt-and-pepper hair.
Seeing him doing that made Decker impatient to cut the straggly mess off his own head. He hated it. The beard, too. The second he was done with this UC assignment, the scissors, clippers and razor were all coming out. The shit on his face was itchy—not to mention, hot—and made him look like a crazy prepper living off the grid up on some remote mountain.
Living out in the wild was not him and never would be. He liked the comforts of home, like heat and running water. And a nearby twenty-four-hour gym.
“I wonder just how big they’re going to grow that club,” he murmured.
“Power, man,” Crew answered on a sigh, “it’s like a fucking drug in itself. The more money they make selling meth, the more meth they want to sell. And the more money they make, the more powerful they get.”
“The more powerful they get, the more the other MCs on this side of the state will sit up and take notice. They’ll see their expansion and growing power as a threat and that could become an issue. Maybe we need to do a little sit down with those clubs to assure them we’ve got this handled,” Decker suggested.
Crew lifted a finger, dug out his cell phone and dialed a number.
Axel Jamison’s voice came through the speaker after a couple of rings. “Yo, what’s up, J. Crew?”
“Got a minute, brother?”
“Do I need to find a private spot to talk?” the BAMC president asked.
“Doubt it. Hey, tell Bella I’ve got a hankering for some of her stuffed Tiramisu cupcakes.”
“Don’t think she gives a shit what you have a hankering for.”
“Just tell her.”
Jamison’s annoyance was thick in his voice when he asked, “Is that why you fucking called this late?”
“Fuck no. Listen… The Demons are doing everything they can to not only grow their mountain of green, but their numbers. I know we’ve had a similar discussion with your big brother at the beginning of this investigation but it looks like those fucknuts are going to expand even faster than we originally thought. I’m also expecting the Demons’ territory to stop kissing the Angels’ and start fucking it.”
“Christ,” Jamison said on a groan. “Not good.”
“Yeah, no shit. So, I need your honest opinion on this… Do you think if we approach the Angels and the Knights—whether together or separately—to give them a strong reminder that we’re handling this shit show and they need to stand back and let us, will they listen?”
There was no misinterpreting Jamison’s dry laugh rising from the speakerphone. “Your first hurdle will be getting a meet with them at all. Fletch and Wilder’s presence with my brother’s club hangs by a thin thread as it is, Crew, you know that. Z’s been pretty fucking tolerant. And if it wasn’t because he feels so strongly about protecting his family—whether club family or Sophie and the boys—we never would’ve gotten that first meet and had him agree with them going undercover with the MC at all. We pulled off a goddamn miracle as it was.”
“Know it. But your brother’s smart and knows our presence in his MC benefits him, his family and his fucking club.”
“Sure. But if you want the honest to God fucking truth, I’m not sure my brother will let any slight from the Demons slide. He’ll do what he needs to do to protect his kingdom, his throne and his subjects all while not giving a fuck about your opinion on the matter. He’s already been more than generous when it comes to allowing Fletch and Wilder in their midst. Now you want to ask them to sit on their hands if the Demons step into their territory? Not only that, but to push meth?” Jamison huffed out a breath. “Zak’s pretty laid-back but as some of you witnessed during that first meet, his enforcer is far from it. And Hawk will have Diesel’s back, no matter what. Neither have mellowed with age.”
“Yeah, that Diesel dude reminded me of a grizzly bear with a thorn stuck in his paw. He needs some Prozac, or something, before he has a damn heart attack.”
“I can only dream…”
Decker tried to muffle his laughter.
“Somebody there with you?” Jamison asked.
“Big Deck,” Crew answered. “We’re talking strategy,”
“Here’s a strategy for you then… When dealing with either Romeo or Z—”
“Wait. I know Z’s your brother but who’s Romeo?” Decker interrupted.
“Prez of the Dark Knights,” Crew answered before Jamison could.