Have Gun, Will Travel (The Bare Bones MC #5)(46)
He didn’t. Drawing himself up with dignity, Slayer tried to look down his nose at Sax. “I heard you just had another man arrested on a RICO charge. That is grave and serious business, indeed. I wish the best for you and your club. But now I must detach myself from this—ah! They are coming out!”
Indeed, the two men emerged from the UXO shed. No longer talking, the fake biker had his fists deeply embedded in the pockets of his jeans. Sax could see even from this distance that Slayer was right on the money about this guy. He had “fed” written all over him. He’d probably been undercover for several years from the scruffy look of his facial hair and the very real tats Sax could make out as he neared. But there was something fishy, something “off” about him. And there was no such f*cking thing as The Storming Skeletons MC.
“You’re right,” Sax mumbled. “No real one percenter would wear a fluorescent patch like that, whatever it says.”
Slayer declared, “It says ‘If you need me, I’ll be riding.’ Even more mortification! And with that, I am out of here!”
Slayer tried to make his dramatic getaway. But just as Leo and the fed split up and went their separate ways, it became clear that their trajectories were about to collide.
“You!” yelled Leo, pointing an accusatory finger.
Sax and Slayer looked at each other. It seemed neither man could figure out who Leo was currently angry with.
“You f*cking bounty hunter, yes, you!”
“Listen, I want nothing to do with this,” Slayer said, but he stood his ground, and Sax knew the quick-draw artist had his iron in its shoulder holster under his white linen jacket.
“I heard you were trying to track down my associate, Mr. Tormenta. I want you to cease and desist right now. This isn’t the old f*cking short pants days. You can’t just believe anything a sweetbutt tells you, and take her money.”
Slayer held up his hands. That was his fatal mistake. “Mr. Saxonberg. It is my duty as a professional sicario to go where I am most needed. Prejudices and opinions aside, it is strictly my job to—”
Leo didn’t wait to hear the explanation. He just hauled off and sucker-punched Slayer in the jaw.
The former actor flew back against the metal siding of the hangar like a stuntman in a Western. His eyes even rolled up into his skull as he slid down the siding. Ten women came galloping forward, Slayer now taking priority over Leo. Two or three of them even chastised Leo.
“Leo! What are you thinking of?”
“Mr. Slayer is a guest of ours.”
“I don’t care what he did. He’s coming back to my apartment.”
“I’m telling you,” Leo continued to yell as several women vied to be the ones to drape Slayer’s arms over her shoulders. “Don’t go looking for trouble, Slayer. You’ll find it in the most unexpected places!”
It seemed to Sax that Slayer even purposefully dragged the toes of his white vinyl shoes against the asphalt as the women hauled him off. He could have easily walked off under his own steam. Sax had to admire the man’s style, much as he loathed his dramatic tendencies—and his choice in attire.
Leo turned his rage on his brother, his hands balled into fists at his sides. “And you. What the f*ck are you doing around here? I thought I made it clear I want you on the road. Gone.”
“Last I checked, these fish fries are open to any member of The Bare Bones and its brother chapters. And the P and E chapter already has a decent president. Flagstaff chapter doesn’t.”
Sax could see the color rise in Leo’s already-red face. It was like watching a rain gauge fill with water, the color level climbing his stupid f*cking face. “And what exactly is that supposed to f*cking mean? You’re not even privy to any of the things we put to a vote in our chapel. Don’t you f*cking dare to presume you know how to run anything.”
A couple of sweetbutts were still within earshot, but Sax spoke anyway. He didn’t give a flying f*ck anymore. “I know that when a f*cking patched brother is in cahoots with the ATF, there’s a major problem. For decades, we’ve taken every step to stay out of the ATF’s crosshairs. Suddenly, on the day your sergeant-at-arms is arrested on a RICO charge and you’re thirty miles away in P and E, you invite a f*cking federal agent to The Citadel to discuss ‘relocating’? And your own men are so disgruntled they’re about to mutiny, Leo.”
Leo drew himself up impudently. Sax had never wanted to shatter the jaw on that impudent f*cking face as much as he wanted to now. Leo truly was an admiral without a ship now, especially with his Number Two wanting to be anywhere other than the Flag clubhouse, and his son so rebellious he’d rather suck cock in the dispatcher’s office than face his father. Sax suspected Leo’s knowledge of his son’s actions was adding to his pissed-off mood.
“Listen, Zane,” Leo steamed. “This is all f*cking hearsay, the hearsay of a disgruntled ex-employee. You’re nothing but a f*cking moron who got fired from the 7-11 and doesn’t even qualify for unemployment because he wasn’t good enough to be fired with honor.”
Sax was confused. “What? Listen, Leo. How many more good men do you think you can turn into the ATF before your own men lynch you and hang you from the nearest bridge?” He yelled this loudly. Not only were a few sweetbutts listening—they would probably never repeat club business to anyone else—but a few P and E men, Faux Pas, August, Wild Man, they were all within earshot. Everyone in Arizona knew the two brothers had feuded for years, so that was nothing new, but they might listen to allegations of snitching. “The f*cking Storming Skeletons MC? Really, Leo? Seriously? Do you think anyone would fall for that fake MC shit? Why don’t you do a favor to the few men who still remain in your club and turn yourself over to the marshals at WITSEC? It’s obvious to anyone with f*cking eyeballs in his skull that you were flipped after that bust with the Russian ladies.”