Have Gun, Will Travel (The Bare Bones MC #5)(20)
“Ooo, undercover,” trilled Wolf. “My favorite kind of work. Will I have to be anonymous, like leave my cut behind?”
“That’s a good idea actually,” said Slushy, pointing his pen toward the ceiling. “Tormenta knows he has reason to fear retaliation from The Bare Bones after what happened to Cassie. You might want to leave the cuts and colors behind.”
Wolf sobered up. “Oh, this is about Cassie? I’m in.”
Ford said, “I want you to work with Sax here tracking the bastard down. I see nothing wrong with taking out that maniac. He’s operating beyond the parameters of any decent human conduct, just out there like a loose cannon, like a f*cking Hitler going over the edge with ego.”
“I don’t need any assistant,” Sax growled. “I’m used to working alone.”
Ford frowned at him. “Yeah. But you haven’t worked on any club business in a decade. Things have changed. The personnel have changed. Wolf here is up to date on all that shit. He’s going to be invaluable to you, mark my f*cking words, Sax.”
“It’s an honor,” said Wolf, shaking the reluctant boss’ hand. Sax looked as though he was being handed a turd, eyeing Wolf distastefully.
Slushy, meanwhile, clicked his pen and came around my side of the room. In a low, spy-like voice, he said to me, “I want you to know I’m a hundred percent behind what you women have done, getting up that bounty money. It’s a balls-to-the-wall thing for you to do, and I admire that gumption. I want you to know you can step back now and let the men do the heavy lifting. I don’t want you getting personally involved because the inherent danger with a job like this is very, very real. My stepson just embroiled my daughter in a deadly game with the Bamboo Boys, and she almost didn’t come out of it alive before marrying him and jetting off to Barbados.”
I wondered what Slushy was getting at. Then I remembered. “It must have felt sort of strange, your stepson marrying your daughter.”
This was obviously the subject he wanted to tackle. “Indeed it did! I was in shock for weeks and couldn’t accept it. I mean, I know there’s no blood relation involved here. All I did was marry Roman’s mother—and I’d marry her again in a heartbeat if she’d have me! But he’s been like a son to me, and Gudrun has been a daughter to me, and suddenly he’s giving her a PROPERTY patch…”
“It must be a strange feeling,” I allowed. “You just have to remember. There’s nothing wrong with their union in the eyes of the Lord.” I instantly regretted involving Jesus. It wasn’t three years ago. It was now. And I didn’t believe in the Lord anymore. The Lord had pretty much screwed me over with hypocrisy and conflicting standards.
That was one of the many reasons that I gravitated toward Sax. We were both bitter people of lost faith. I could tell he wanted to work alone—and Wolf Glaser could be f*cking annoying, I’ll grant you that—but in the long run I was glad he had a partner. It just seemed much safer, and two minds were always better than one.
Slushy went on, “Well, I’m mostly over it now. Mostly. And I’m glad Sax is going to be spending more time around P and E with that rock shop he’s buying.”
“What?”
“Yeah, we just cut a deal, he signed the papers. Down on Bargain Boulevard, not far from The Joint System, the weed store. Guy had it for sale and it’s only a half hour commute from Sax’s house. Perfect. We can use a guy like him in our wheelhouse, not to mention another cover business. We’ve lost a couple of old timers in this mother chapter, lately, too. It’s great to see Sax back, working on club business. Never thought he was cut out to be a nomad. He’s too old for that bullshit, anyway. I know the feeling. I’m too old to be cooking the books for a cartel. I just want to hold an Oscar party at my house. Drink wine and talk about David Sedaris.”
I don’t know how much of this speech Sax had overheard. But he was obviously dying to get away from the gung-ho Wolf Glaser, who was already babbling away happily about going to the shooting range with Sax.
“We could even go to our own archery range. Slushy’s office is in the back, and Kneecap would let us shoot for free. You never know when a bow and arrow comes in handy. I once shot a rival Cutlass at four in the morning from a second story window down in Tucson. A gun, anyone would’ve heard ten miles away. But the arrow went right through his eyeball and stuck halfway in his skull. Soundlessly, just the whisper of the fletching, psssshew. Arrow shattered against the cement building behind the guy.”
Sax patted Wolf on the shoulder. “That’s great. Can we talk about it later? Beatrix, I’m glad you’re here…” In an effort to extricate himself from the enthusiastic Prospect, Sax took me by the forearm and steered me into the hallway. He stood me up against the wall while old-timers such as Faux Pas, special effect makeup man to the stars, and Russ Gollywow, backup singer in a Philly Soul band, sauntered on by. I tell you, being at The Citadel was like being backstage at a rock concert. These men were my rock stars, the iconoclasts, the outlaws of society. After losing my faith, this is where I felt most comfortable. I might not be much of a nihilist myself, but the rebels and revolutionaries of society were my cohorts.
“Listen, I’ve got to go downtown, check out this nail salon. I know, sounds ridiculous, but I’ve got a lead that it might be a cover for some of Tormenta’s smuggling ops, might lead me to where he is.”