"What about the rat?" I ask grinding my teeth. "No way can we let him get away with turning traitor." With a sly grin Prez makes a promise.
"Don’t worry, brother, when the time comes that little motherfucker will be yours." Satisfied with his response, I nod. Knowing Jake he’s cooking something up.
"And as hard as it might be, we need you on this pickup today. You done right by not going into this alone, Gabriel. We’ll make sure you get your sister back."
He’s right, my brothers need me today and sitting on my ass won’t make Santino call any quicker. Right now, it’s a sit and wait game. A game I’m determined not to lose.
The shipment pick up this morning went smooth. Now we’re on our way back to the clubhouse after transferring crates off the trucks at the warehouse. There’s talk of getting out of the gun trade business. Word is this may be our last transaction with the Russians. Prez has decided with increased interest in club activity by the Feds, it’s best we put things on the back burner. Him and Logan are in talks with Volkov, our supplier, to back out for now; which shouldn’t be an issue since Volkov is also our VP’s dad. Fuck, it’s not everyday you find out your birth father is head of one of the largest Russian Mafia families.
Shit has almost come full circle for Logan and I’m happy for him. He had a good woman come into his life who put things into perspective.
She also brought her sister with her. Eyes as blue as the Montana skies themselves and a soul as bright as the fuckin’ sun, making me think a cold and empty man like myself could hold something as pure as her.
And I did—for a moment.
Problem is, I don’t want to tarnish her light with my darkness-my imperfections, with the rage that lives inside of me. When Alba looks at me I know she can see past all those things-seeing the real me, I feel it. Alba has broken past the iron clad walls and imprinted on my god forsaken soul.
Making it to Kings Ink, I start setting up my work station with new ink and clean sterile equipment before unlocking the doors. My first client for the day will be showing up in about forty-five minutes. The guy is a bull rider from Cheyenne, Wyoming. He wants an upper arm piece done to commemorate his final ride. I’ve watched a few rodeos in my day livin’ here in Montana. Those are some tough, crazy motherfuckers. Definitely badasses in their own right.
Just as I’m setting out fresh bottles of water for myself and the client, the phone given to me by Santino rings. Diggin’ it out of my back pocket I answer. "Yeah."
A chuckle sounds from the other end of the line. "Aww, come on now, no good morning?"
"Put my sister on the phone you hijo de puta son of a bitch." I spit in anger at his passiveness.
His tone changes to one of authority at my attitude, and I could care less. I’m not going to kiss his ass.
"You give me your answer and we’ll see about you talking with your sister. Remember, I’m holding all the cards right now."
Clenching my fists tight, I rein in my temper before speaking to the piece of trash. "The club’s in."
"Wise choice," Santino is quick to reply.
"Under one condition. I talk to her every day. And I get to lay eyes on her—today," I inform him. He may be holding the cards in this game, but I don’t play by the fuckin’ rules.
"Don’t push my patience." Silence fills the other end of the phone before he speaks again, his voice causing my jaw to clench. "Fine. I’ll text you the location. I expect to see you before nightfall."
As soon as the call is disconnected I send out a text to Jake and Logan, letting them know what’s going on. Nothing can be done until I receive information on the location. As soon as I get that I’ll send it to Reid to do his thing.
They both are quick to text back.
Logan: We got your back.
Prez: Got your back, son.
The rest of the shop crew shows up soon after I get off the phone. Blake has finally been given his own station and has a couple of solo sessions with clients of his own today. I walk over to Grayson, who started working for us a month ago. He already has ten years of experience under his belt working at a well-known tattoo shop in New York.
"I’m gonna need you to run the place and close shop after I leave today. Think you can handle it?" I ask him.
"Yeah, man, no problem."
I hand him the keys and walk back to my work station.
To say it was hard as fuck concentrating on the piece I’m working on is an understatement.
I’m finishing with cleanup and care instructions when the damn phone in my pocket pings with a text alert. I send the cowboy over to Aubrey, who is a new hire, to take care of the rest of his bill.
Pulling the phone from my pocket I read the text which gives the location of my sister, then send it st