Page 4 of Down & Dirty: Reaper

Reaper released a soft snort. “You feel the need to be a thorn in their sides.”

“Of course we do. If they had let us ride with them—on our own sleds, not as backpacks—we never would’ve taken it that far.”

“They have their traditions.”

“Traditions can evolve. Look how prehistoric cavemen turned into our modern- day bikers. That’s undeniable proof of evolution.” She circled him, slowly looking him up and down.

“Are you done?” he echoed her from earlier.

“Unlike you, I took it upon myself to check out the rear. You could be the model for the club’s recruitment campaign.”

Fuck that. No way he’d ever want to be the face of the DAMC. “They have one?”

Her lips twitched. “No.”

He tugged on one of the black leather flaps. “What’s the tradition on when and where I have to wear this?”

Her dark eyebrows shot to the top of her forehead. “Zeke didn’t tell you?”

“Nope. Guess he assumed I’d know or that someone else would clue me in. Know it’s a given on club runs, but are there other instances where I’d need to represent?”

“Rallies, parties, any club activities or events when other clubs are present. Other than that, it’s up to you. Of course, never wear it here or while on assignment. When you’re working, you’re a Shadow and your loyalty is to the team first, not the DAMC.”

He was already aware of that rule due to the three other DAMC members on Vi’s crew. They didn’t even wear their cuts on the property. Of course, Vi and Indie never wore their AFMC cuts, either.

“What about the tradition of inking the club’s colors onto my back?”

“While that’s another tradition, when it comes down to it, it’s optional.”

“Anyone opt out?” While he had a lot of ink already, his back was still a blank canvas. He figured one day he’d fill it up with a big piece. He just never thought it would be with the patches and rockers of a motorcycle club.

“Not that I know of. But if you want to wait, do so. Don’t feel pressured to have the colors permanently added to your back. Because if you decide that being an Angel isn’t for you, it’ll suck removing them. And you would have to remove them. It would be a requirement. If you don’t, they’ll do it for you and, trust me, you don’t want that.”

“Can imagine.” When Vi hired him, he only had a basic knowledge of motorcycle clubs. Since then, he’d watched more in-depth documentaries since his new gig was tied to one. But he was also aware that every MC was different and each had their own bylaws and rules.

He didn’t want to do anything to insult the club, its members, or step all over their traditions—even by accident—since he appreciated the fact he was only the second member in the long history of the DAMC who didn’t have to prospect.

“It’s also why prospects can’t do it until they’re patched in. They wash out all the time.” Vi rounded her desk and settled in her chair. “Since I have you in here, give me an update on baiting the Russos.”

The Shadows had been taking potshots at the Pittsburgh Mafia in their attempt to spark a war between the Sicilian mob and a Chinese Triad, the Chens, out of Ohio.

Since the Russos had partnered up with an outlaw MC, the Twisted Souls had been running fentanyl through the DAMC’s territory. That was ruffling the feathers of the club officers and members since the Souls were traveling through the DAMC’s patch without permission to traffic drugs.

Problem was, the Souls had the Mafia’s backing, so dealing with the issue was complicated. The Russos had massive firepower and loads of money behind them. They could wipe out the DAMC—a club in existence since 1974—with ease if they weren’t careful.

And if they did, the club’s territory would be handed over to the Twisted Souls on a silver fucking platter.

After going over other options, the best and safest plan they could come up with—for now—was to pit two large crime families against each other. Or more accurately, pretend the Chens wanted to take Pittsburgh from the Russos.

Of course, the Russos wouldn’t take that threat lying down and would strike back, sparking that war. Their hope was if the Chinese wiped out the Russos, that would end the relationship with the Twisted Souls and solve the territory problem with the DAMC.

However, now revenge reared its ugly head. Not only did the Russos nab Zeke’s young son as a warning, the Souls had been dumb motherfuckers and injured three of the Angels of Fury while the women were on one of their runs. They also tried to attack Bri, Lyric, and Avery on their way back from a girls’ night out.

Only Reaper didn’t clock that last attack as one directed toward the DAMC. Every indication pointed to the Souls having no idea why they were being followed as they trafficked drugs north. They most likely thought they were about to be robbed and went on the offensive.

Luckily, dead men told no tales, giving the Souls no way to know those three ladies were tied to the DAMC. Otherwise, with the unexpected hurting the women put on the four Twisted Souls that night, that alone would’ve caused more friction between the two MCs, starting the territory war they were trying to avoid.

So far, Reaper could say one thing for sure…