Move the Sun (Signal Bend #1)(24)
The ride into St. Louis was uneventful. As they rode into the more heavily populated areas, they spread out a bit, pulling away from the pickup with the camper top in which Darren Brown was hauling the actual product. Too tight a formation put them on law radar. Four men in kuttes got notice enough. And sure enough, five minutes after they crossed into St. Louis County, a county trooper pulled up in his cruiser, even with Isaac and Len, and sat there for a good three miles. Just making his presence known. Isaac waved when he pulled alongside, and again when he finally pulled away.
They met the Underdawgs at their usual location, behind a barbeque place on the northern edge of the city’s Central West End. Darren and his brother George handled their business while the Horde looked on.
When they were done, Isaac got two envelopes, one from each end of the transaction. That was the deal.
The crews were friendly and had been for years, so it was their habit for everyone to sit down to some wings and beer before the Signal Bend group set back off for home. Today, Kenyon and Isaac sat apart from the rest.
Kenyon Berry was a tall, slim man with dark brown skin and darker brown eyes. He kept his head and face shaved smooth. He dressed like a businessman spending the day in the office—sharply pressed slacks, crisp button-down shirts, well-shined shoes, but no jacket. Isaac always felt a little scrubby sitting with him.
He was also considerably older than Isaac, about the age his father would have been. Isaac was taller and heavier, and no less mean, but Kenyon had a sophistication that Isaac knew he lacked. He was just keyed into the world better. Maybe it was a city/country thing. Isaac had a great deal of respect for the man sitting across the dinged Formica table from him, and was honored that he got respect in return.
Kenyon finished a wing, wiped his hands clean, and took a long drink from his beer. “Tell me your concerns, Isaac, and I’ll tell you what I know.”
“The Northsiders have somebody new backing them, and it looks like they’re trying to branch out into our turf—yours and mine. He’s leaning on the cookers in Signal Bend, and now he’s leaning on a farmer, trying to get his land. I’m thinking he’s looking to mass-produce—take over the town, take over the corridor. Got a name today: Lawrence Ellis.”
Kenyon abruptly sat back in his seat at the name. “This is news to me. But I know Ellis, and if he’s the player, then things are about to get very interesting. He’s Chicago, and he’s connected all the way to DC.”
Fuck. Now Isaac sat back. “What does that mean for us?”
“Nothing good. But like I said, this is new information. Let me think this through. I am not without friends, Isaac. That means you’re not without them, either. But I need some time.”
“I don’t know how much time we’ve got, man. That kind of weight leaning on my town? These are not strong people anymore, Kenyon. They’ve taken all the lumps they can.”
The older man stood and put his hand on Isaac’s shoulder. “It’s a strong town, Isaac. The ones that stay? They’re the strong ones. And they’ve got you and your brothers. I’ll know something in a few days.”
oOo
Without illicit cargo to protect, they made good time back home, and they were at the clubhouse by 10:30. It was Friday night, and the place was pretty well packed with Horde, hangarounds, and girls. The music was loud, and the booze was flowing, and the bud was wafting. Len, Havoc, and Wyatt just about ran inside, girls already under their arms—Len had two, per his custom.
Gwen, one of Isaac’s more regular f*cks—and one not looking for anything more—came up. She had a voluptuous bod and fiery red hair, and tonight she looked especially good, if fancier than was really his taste: snug black skirt made out of some shimmery material, high, red strappy things on her feet, and a tight white top leaving just about nothing at all to the imagination. He could see the rosy tops of her areolae peeking above the neckline. He put an arm around her waist and kissed her hard.
He had business to attend to first, though. So he sent Gwen off with a pat and wink, knowing if he wanted her later she’d be there, and scanned the room for Show. He found him getting head in the hallway.
Show was a family man, but his wife had had some kind of medical problem after their third kid, and that had killed their sex life. So he had permission for head. He was big and built—and, by biker metrics, a gentleman—and the girls loved him. Even so, he availed himself infrequently. Isaac caught his eye and nodded toward the office. Show eased the girl off his dick and followed his boss, closing his jeans as he walked.
Isaac closed the door behind his VP. “What’s the deal with Mac?”
Show leaned against a tall metal filing cabinet. “Visibly, he’s no worse for wear, other than the fancy new stigmata you gave him, but Vic had to go at him hard. He’ll be uncomfortable for awhile.”
Isaac saw no need for further details on that score. “Get anything more out of him?”
“Tough enough to get what we got—Mac’s more scared of these guys than us, boss. Bart pulled the emails, and I had a look. There’s nothing there but a few inquiries about the property. But the trail Bart found leads to Ellis. Who is this guy?”
“Bad news. Big player from Chicago. Kenyon’s lookin’ into it. Meantime, we pay attention.”
Show stood straight and gave Isaac a concerned look. “Isaac.”