Under Locke(74)

"Honey, don't go anywhere without one of the club members with you."



The second time in my life that the "Prez" had spoken to me and he was warning me. The urge to go visit Lanie was right smack on my forehead, but I knew I shouldn't.



Dex let out a long sigh. “I got this. Don’t worry about it,” he assured the older man.



I, on the other hand, had a really bad feeling about this.



~ * ~



“Who are those guys?” I asked Dex over breakfast.



After we left Luther’s house, we’d loaded back on the bike and made our way over to a diner nearby. We squeezed into a booth across from each other and ordered breakfast in a murmur of low requests.



Dex looked up at me as he shoveled half of a breakfast sausage into his mouth. “What guys?” He even had the nerve to look around the diner like I’d be asking about any other guys besides the ones who had taken Sonny.



“The guys at the bar. The ones my dad owes money to,” I explained, eyeing the dark circles under his radiant blue eyes. Dex had some seriously thick eyelashes.



He chewed on only one side of his mouth, eyeing me wearily. “They're another club in SA."



That was something I already knew.



“They don’t like us," he added vaguely.



You have got to be kidding me. “They don’t like you guys?”



“Yeah.”



“They don’t like you guys so they beat up Sonny instead of looking for our dad?” I could smell his bullshit a mile away.



He knew I had him, so he nodded his answer. “It's more complicated than that, Ritz. They're all Widows’ rejects. They'll try to start shit with us for whatever reason they can come up.”



"Explain that."



He lifted a brow. "Explain what?"



"What do you mean by them being rejects?"



Dex sighed, his mouth twisting. "Your pa never told you this?"



I gave him a flat look.



"You know the Original 12?" he asked.



I shook my head, earning another sigh. "They were the first Widowmakers. Twelve pissed off vets. Tough as shit, hated every single thing about the government. My granddaddy on my ma's side was one."



That made a heck of a lot of sense. One badass passing on the gene to another badass.



Dex kept going with his story. "They got into shady shit. Drug runnin', enforcin', shit that gets everybody into trouble." He shook his head. "Gets people killed, babe, but what the hell did they care? I remember my granddaddy was cool as fuck but he wasn't right. None of 'em were."



I suddenly had the urge to find out what Dex considered as "not right." Then again, I probably didn't want to.



"As the club grew with more and more assholes wantin' in on the money and the respect and the ass, they got into more shit. Girls—"



Prostitution?



"—bad shit, Ritz. Years, that was the way things were run. Once the 12 were all too old to give a fuck, Luther took over the club. He knew we were in deep with the Mexicans when he took over. Some of the brothers were gettin' restless, sloppy. They wanted more money, more drama. More, more, more, more. Then, a run got fucked up. The Mexicans got pissed, and took care of Luther's wife in retaliation."



I made a face that earned me a slow nod of understanding from Dex. Even hearing it again after so many years, it sounded just as terrible.



"Yeah, babe. It was bad. I was a little pimple-faced shit back then but I remember. Lu lost his fuckin' mind. I mean, lost it. He made it his mission to clean us up after that. The club was all cash capital back then. He wanted to open up businesses and make the money legit. It was a good plan. Better for everybody even if the money wasn't goin' to be as good first, it would've worked. The problem was, not everybody wanted to get clean."



That I could understand. Men living in their own little world with no regard for society, making money, scaring the shit out of people? It made sense though it didn't seem like a life I'd want to live.



"There were more brothers who wanted to get clean after Darcy's death than not. It scared the fuck out of everybody with families, babe. They saw that Lu had his shop. It'd never been tied up with club finances. Lotta members left when the club voted to try the clean way. They left but they were pissed. Felt like they'd gotten fucked over, and men like that don't get over shit. Ever. They all hooked up, started up the Reapers."



And then I winced. I could understand why the men would have held a grudge. I did. They'd join the WMC for one reason and then that reason had morphed into something completely different. After everything they'd lost—friends and family—they'd gotten kicked out.