Risky and Wild(11)

“Let me worry about that,” I say as my phone finally rings and I get a chill down my spine. Yep. Guess Glacier's special talents really do translate over space and time. Fuck. I look Dober in his brown eyes and point at him with my mobile. “Just get it done; when it comes to Lyric, I've already decided to make her mine and nobody's going to change my mind about that.”



Glacier's grinning when I meet him outside the clubhouse, his blond hair twisted and mussed, damp. Probably just showered to get all that blood off. I turn my brain off and smoke another cigarette. It's quite likely I'll end up with lung cancer in the near future, but right now, I've got bigger problems.

“Give me a summarization,” I say before he starts off on one of his stories. And trust me—you definitely don't want to hear any of Glacier's tales. They'll haunt your fucking nightmares.

“Aw, come on boss, you sure you don't want all the little details?” he asks, blue eyes shimmering as he runs the fingers of his tattooed right hand down his left arm, the knuckles spelling out BURY in bold, black script. I always thought of it as a natural adaptation, like a brightly colored snake advertising its venom.

“Not particularly,” I say as I blow out a puff of gray smoke towards his face and wait for the other shoe to drop. Because it just has to. Nothing is ever easy, and I know when life gives, it also takes. Might have actually found something meaningful with Lyric, so I figure I'm due for a serious shit storm. “Just tell me it's all cleaned up, and give me the rundown.”

Glacier climbs off his bike and cricks his neck from side to side as he glances up at the gray clouds above the compound. There's a storm rolling in. It's electric in the air; I can feel it.

“Consider our problem dead and buried,” he says with a chuckle as he ruffles his hair with his fingers. “He was a fighter, that one.” I grit my teeth and narrow my eyes. Glacier challenges me for a moment before looking away, like two wolves in a stare down. If he was any less loyal, I'd have killed him already. He really is scary as hell. “Anyway, I think I've got what we were looking for.” The suddenly sober note in his voice turns my insides. Jesus, Landon, what did you get us all into? “Mile Wide's looking to expand their business, and they've got their eye on Trinidad. They've already got the I-5 under their belt, and if they pass through here and snatch up the rest of the 101, they'll have sole access to every major city on the West Coast north of San Francisco.”

“I see,” I say as Glacier falls into step beside me and we start moving down the road towards the cliffs, the distant murmur of the ocean. “That's what this shit is all about? A turf war?”

“Our friend didn't have much to say about Landon except to confirm that he was working with Clayton. Couldn't get him to tell me why.” Glacier tucks his hands into his front pockets and pulls out a stick of gum. The asshole always smells like mint, never smokes, like he's not the worst human being that ever lived. “He kept telling me to call Clayton, gave me his cell number and everything. It's all up here,” Glacier tells me, tapping at his temple with a dirty fingernail. Pretty sure that's dried blood under there. “Anyway, they only came up here to try and kill you. If you'd been in that truck instead of Miss Deputy Mayor, they would've capped your ass right then and there.”

Glacier shrugs his shoulders at me and then flicks his tongue out to play with one of his lip rings.

“And the agreement with the mayor? Tell me why Clayton gave two fucks about that.”

“The more embroiled we are with the city, the harder it is to get rid of us. We make friends with the citizens, become a part of this community, and getting rid of the Wolves becomes almost impossible. If I were you, I'd be real nervous about the next few weeks.”

We pause at the fence that borders the edge of the cliff, and I curl my fingers into the mesh to keep myself from punching something.

I get why Mile Wide wants to control the 101. It's a hell of a lot easier to traffic drugs, weapons, whatever from down south. Or vice versa. Humboldt County is famous for its weed, and it makes a profitable export. Even with Oregon's recent decision to make pot legal, it's still cheaper for people to buy it on the sly. In fact, it helped business boom because there's less of a worry about being picked up for smoking it. Up here, business has never been better.

So I get Clayton. And I get FBI Douche. And I get the mayor's dumbass son.

What I don't get is Landon and Rebecca. The club is life. These men, they're our brothers. So why would Landon run off and into Clayton's arms? He was never going to patch in to Mile Wide. There's no room for a rat in any club.