Page 33 of Allegiance
“I’ve known what Hammer’s been doing. Though I don’t totally agree with it, the club is making the extra money it needs.”
“The club has financially thrived under you. What the hell are you saying?”
“When we were double-crossed over the arms deal last year, it drained the clubs’ coffers. Since you’ve gone nomad, you’re not around enough to see that the club’s in a financial bind. We owe the Insurgents MC in San Diego money on a weed deal, and we still owe Romano on the guns we purchased from him. He doesn’t give a fuck what happened—he just wants his dough. Once we get our funds where they need to be, we’ll back down. It isn’t the best plan, but it ain’t the worst, either.”
Tank’s mental sensors were on overload as he processed what his president was saying. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. I can’t fucking believe—”
Raptor held up his hand and shook his head, keeping his eyes on the ground.
“No one outside my family knows this, but Nick’s waiting for a bone marrow transplant, and until we get that call, I don’t care about anything but my little boy. He needs me, and I sure as hell can’t worry about a club of grown-ass men when my son could fuckin’ die.” His voice hitched on the last word. Reaching into his shirt pocket, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a book of matches. The cigarette dangled from his lips as he lit it. After taking a deep drag, he blew the smoke out through his nose and looked up at Tank. “Hammer will get it sorted—he cares about the Jagged Outlaws. For fuck’s sake, he’s the VP. He and the rest of the board have the members’ backs. For now, I’ve gotta take myself out of the equation.”
Fuck no. He has to be messing with me. The sinking feeling in Tank’s gut kept him from moving, from speaking. It was damn clear now that Raptor had completely lost his will to lead the MC. While Tank understood the myriad of emotions flashing across the president’s features, he still couldn’t believe Raptor was turning his back on the brotherhood.
Pushing away from the wall, Tank growled, “So let me get this straight. You’re agreeing to the protection money, the forced prostitution, the cartel, the fuckin’ dog fights, the—”
“Hold on, there. I didn’t say anything about that other shit. Hammer came to me and we discussed the protection money. In a year, the club will be back in the black and we’ll shut it down. The shit you’re going on about is nothing but rumors. There are some members who want anyone who was associated with my dad’s presidency to be stripped of any kind of power. Be careful about what you hear—not everyone is telling the truth. Hammer and I have been talking. I know what’s up.”
“Then why the hell did he trash you when you didn’t show up at church? It didn’t sound like you two are working together, but more like he’s workingagainstyou. I can’t believe you don’t see that fucker is taking advantage of your vulnerable situation.”
Raptor blew out another stream of smoke. “I should’ve been at church. I forgot, and I owe the brothers an apology.”
“You fucking realize if you give up now, you’re handing the presidency over to him. The fucker won’t stop until he’s put all of his guys in leadership positions and we’re dealing drugs, running hookers, and fighting dogs again. It won’t stop at that, and it’ll get worse before it gets better. I know your son’s real sick and it tears you up. Hell, I don’t know how you and Lynda are handling it, but you haven’t lost your mind, have you? You’re acting like you’ve got shit for brains. You can’t believe the horseshit Hammer’s feeding you.”
Raptor’s eyes flashed, and he ran a slow hand through his hair. “I understand what we’re dealing with, Tank. I get it. Nothing’s clearer to me than the situation, but I’m out of options. My son comes first, and that’s just the fuckin’ way it is.”
Clenching his jaw, he shoved his hands into his pockets. “Got it.”
Silence stretched between them, leaving Tank to struggle with surprised sadness, as well as the slow burn of anger building inside of him. He swallowed past the emotions, trying to come to terms with what the club’s future would be now that Raptor was out for the long haul—maybe forever. One thing was for sure: Raptor would never get the power back once Hammer took control.
“You know this means war—brother against brother. You do fuckin’ understand that, right? The club will be torn in half between you and Hammer.”
“It’s been like that for a long while now. It’s nothing new.”
“So that’s where we are with it, then?” Tank sighed and rubbed a hand down his face.
“That’s how it is.” Raptor took one last drag and snubbed out the butt. He took a step back and put both hands on either side of his head, looking through the bay window into his house.
Tank saw shadows behind the curtains.
Raptor looked over at him. “Look, I gotta go. Something could be happening.”
“Yeah, go. Don’t let me hold you up.”
Raptor nodded but hung back, his hand on the doorknob. When he spoke, his voice was gruff and hard. “Have a good night, brother.”
“Yeah, right.”
Before Tank could turn around, Raptor walked inside the house and closed the door. He’d made his choice, and in doing so, he’d sealed the club’s fate, forever closing the door between the past and the present.
There was no denying or putting it off anymore: shit was going to go down.
With a heavy heart, Tank started his Harley, pulled away from the curb, and blended into the traffic.
