Craving Molly(34)
“She didn’t seem to like me much,” Dad said with a chuckle.
“She’s fine,” I replied dismissively, grabbing my chair and settling in.
“You still seeing the suit’s daughter?” our president, Dragon, asked as he came in the room behind us. “Not gonna end well.”
“Not gonna end at all,” I shot back.
“We’ll see.”
I ground my teeth together and dug my fingers into my eye sockets. My eyes were fucking burning. I’d been spending my nights with Molly, which meant I’d been waking up every time she did—and it was catching up to me. It was probably time I slept in my own bed so I could get a solid night’s sleep, but even the thought of it made me feel like an asshole. It wasn’t like Reb would stay asleep if I wasn’t there. I’d be sleeping good while Molly was still waking up all night—that didn’t work for me.
As soon as everyone had found their places at the table, Dragon sat back in his chair and glanced around the room.
“Russians have been making some noise,” he announced, making the rest of us sit up straighter in our chairs. “Nothin’ definitive yet.”
“This about Rocky?”
“Of-fuckin’-course it is.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“Only good Russian is a dead one.”
Dragon raised his hand and the table grew silent.
“The suit’s been talkin’ with the DA in Boise, and they’re pretty sure that they can cut Rock a deal if he rolls on the Russians.”
“Oh, fuck no,” Cam said from across the table. “We don’t rat.”
“He’s not gonna talk, not about club business,” Dragon replied, leaning forward. “But Rock’s married to one of their daughters . . .”
About six months before, Rocky had gone to a meet with some Russians who were interested in creating a partnership with the Aces—our contacts for a cut of their sales. At first, we’d thought it was bullshit, so we’d sent in Rock, who already knew the assholes, to get the lay of the land.#p#分页标题#e#
It wasn’t real clear what had gone down, but Rock had ended up surrounded by DEA and FBI. They’d been watching the Russians for a while and had been under the impression that they’d finally hit pay dirt when an Ace rolled up.
Thankfully, Rock had had a reason for being there. One of the guys they’d sent to meet him was his wife’s cousin. Didn’t matter if he hadn’t seen the bitch in over a year—the excuse still worked.
It all went to shit, though, when they searched Rock’s bike and found a good amount of weed and the parts to an unregistered AK. The crazy fucker could build the thing in less than a minute, so he always carted it around.
Brothers went down all the fucking time for different shit. We got caught up for parole violations, possession, gun charges—you name it, they picked us up for it. And most times, we kept our mouths shut and did the time.
But Rocky had been picked up in Idaho, where he was from. Where he’d grown up. And in Idaho, the skinheads had it out for Rock because of some shit that had gone down when he was locked up the first time. He’d had the backing of the Russians that time—but that was gone since he’d aligned himself with us. We had no connections in the Idaho state pen, no way to protect him from the fuckers. If Rock went in, he wasn’t coming out.
“So, what?” I asked, meeting Dragon’s eyes. “What’s he gotta give them?”
“Just names,” Dragon answered.
“The fuck?” Cam asked.
“People at his wedding.” Dragon smiled. “That’s all they want.”
A knock at the door had us all turning that way, then Rocky was poking his head in.
“Come on in, Rock,” my dad called out. “Talkin’ about you, anyway.”
Rocky slid in the door and closed it behind him, leaning against the wall since he didn’t rank a seat at the table. I wondered how long that would last. Rocky was a good guy, I’d trust him at my back any day.
“You had to fuckin’ marry a Russian,” old Samson called from down the table, shaking his head as Rocky smirked.
“First girl to let me fuck her ass,” Rocky called out. “Thought it was love.”
The table roared with laughter.
“You good with givin’ ’em names?” Dragon asked, cutting through the laughter.
“It’s that or I’m a dead man,” Rock replied quietly.
“You know why they want to know who was at your wedding?”
“Got a good idea.”
Dragon stared at him for a minute, then nodded his head once. “Start walkin’ down memory lane, Rock. You’ve got some time to get that shit sent over—but not a lot of it. Don’t talk to anyone but Duncan—he’s your contact. Anyone from the DEA tries to chat you up, walk the fuck away.”