“Guess you’ll have to keep dreaming,” Blazer muttered.
“Actually, I’ve got some news for you,” Piper informed me. “We got a little intel on Blair Sanchuk from our friends over at the Sinners MC.”
That got my attention. Right now I’d take any intel I could get—as long as it was good.
“I thought the Sinners were your mortal enemies.”
“Enemies is such a strong word,” Piper said, with mock offense. “And I think you misunderstand our relationship. The Sinners fuckin’ exist out of our charity.”
“The West Coast Kings are a charitable organization now? Congrats. That’s very humanitarian of you.”
Why?
Why did I have to go antagonizing him when he’d just offered me information?
“You know, I always did appreciate your dry sense of humor, Ronan.” Piper smirked, looking me over. “Was that what she liked about you?”
Christ. Were we really going there?
Yup. And I supposed I’d started it.
“Oh, wait,” he said. “No, she liked eatin’ pussy.” He glanced over at Blazer, who chuckled. “I always get that confused.” Then he looked at me again, holding my gaze. Just waiting for me to posture up, get pissed off or something.
I didn’t.
“Guess she was confused too, huh?” he pressed.
“I dunno,” Blazer said. “Sounds like my kinda girl.”
“You know, you might think so,” Piper said thoughtfully. “But personally, I prefer a girl who prefers dick. I mean, if she gets a taste of the pussy and doesn’t come back for the dick, you know you’ve got a problem.”
“That is a solid point.” Blazer smirked at me, and I really wanted to knock that look right off his face.
Instead, I tried to guide Piper back to the conversation at hand. “You were about to share some intel? Something about the Sinners?”
“Yeah. The fuckin’ Sinners. Sorry. You bring up pussy like that, it gets me all distracted.”
I didn’t bother reminding him that he brought up pussy. The guy was trying to push my buttons, but I really didn’t have time for this shit, or any interest in dredging up high school drama in front of his club brother.
“You know,” Piper mused, “those boys over at the Sinners MC can be cooperative as fuck when we need them to be. Blazer had a little afternoon tea with them the other day. Didn’t you, Blaze?”
Blazer smiled, and it was truly sinister when the guy smiled. Kinda like the stockbroker next door who turned out to be a serial killer. I was getting the picture that the Kings’ idea of afternoon tea involved something akin to breakfast with the Sopranos.
“One of their former prospects,” Blazer informed me, “managed to cough up the fact that Sanchuk is a patched member of the Bloody Bastards MC.”
Okay… This was not good news, in any universe.
“‘Former’ prospect?” I asked.
“Former as in he’s recently been relieved of his patch,” Piper said.
Which meant the Sinners had kicked him out of their club.
Maybe the Kings had insisted on it, as a step toward making amends for letting Sanchuk get near them?
“You trust this intel?” I asked him.
“Yup.”
“Apparently, Sanchuk made this prospect all kinds of promises he probably can’t back up,” Blazer said. “Involving a supply chain from down south.”
I studied Piper. “How could you not know this?”
“We know it now,” he said, in that warning tone of his. The one that told me to back the fuck off before I pissed him off.
“I’d assume the Bloody Bastards aren’t allowed on Kings turf?” I pressed anyway.
Piper’s jaw flexed.
“Sanchuk’s been here under the radar,” Blazer supplied. “Now that he’s on the radar… he’s not welcome.”
“Let me guess.” I looked from Piper to Blazer and back. “You all can’t find him to give him that message.”
“Rest assured,” Piper said, “he already knows.”
“He’ll stick his head up somewhere,” Blazer added, picking at his nails like he was already bored as fuck of this conversation.
“Bastards have been tryin’ to push up into our territory for years now,” Piper informed me, “sniffin’ around. Sanchuk is one of their little rats. They recruit these losers, patch them in, promise them whatever, and have them doin’ their dirty work, spying on us.”
“But here’s the best part,” Blazer added. “When shit goes sideways for them, they’ve got no protection from the Bastards up here.”
“Sounds dirty as shit,” I said.
“Yup,” Piper agreed. “That’s the Bastards way.”
“Hey. That could be their slogan,” Blazer mused. “Bloody Bastards: dirty as shit.”
Piper smirked. “Maybe we’ll tattoo that on Sanchuk’s ass when we find him. Great idea, Ronan.”
“I hate to ask,” I said, interrupting their dark comedy routine. “But what do you imagine any of this has to do with Summer?”
“I dunno,” Piper said. “Maybe Sanchuk picked up on Dirty’s connection to the Kings? Maybe he saw my boy Haz with Ashley Player, and he was hopin’ to supply the Players? Grab himself some status in the local scene? Maybe he thought Summer was the easiest target.”
I considered that, not loving it at all.
“She did say he offered meth to some of her friends,” I admitted.
“Maybe he wants to see who’s buyin’,” Piper said, still studying me. “And who they normally buy from.”
I was afraid he might be right, though it still didn’t feel like all the pieces fit.
Why meth?
“Methamphetamine doesn’t exactly feel like the party drug of choice at a DJ Summer event,” I pointed out.
“Nope,” Piper agreed. “Feels more like a lowlife dealer tryin’ to get noticed by chicks any way he can. With whatever drug he could get his hands on in quantity, and maybe meth was it.”
Maybe.
“Or maybe he felt like that was the only drug he could safely deal in an otherwise Kings controlled market,” I said.
Piper actually laughed. “The Kings ‘deal’ in marijuana. And if you hadn’t read the news, that shit has been legalized in our fair country. We’re upstanding citizens now. Just like you.”
“Right.”
I’d spent a large part of my life making sure I was nothing like Piper Grayson and his MC brothers. Because there was a time when I’d come far too close to ending up exactly like them—and it still fucking bothered me, when
