Since the clubhouse was not a public place I knew exactly where they were. The shooting range. My motorcycle boots were the only sound aside from the blood rushing through my head as I came closer and closer to our pride and joy. We sank a lot of money into RB Gun Range but we’d more than made it back over the years because despite the crazies, Americans loved us some guns.
“What’s going on in here?”
A short round man with curly black hair turned to me, brown eyes flashing fear before he remembered who the fuck he was. “City Inspector,” he said and flashed a badge too fast for me to see. “We have a few issues here, Mr. Wylie.”
“I need to see that ID.”
He stared with a smirk on his face until he realized I wasn’t joking. “You don’t want to make this harder than it needs to be.”
“By asking you to identify yourself? Funny, I thought that was the law.” He handed me the badge and I stared at it for a long time, snapping an image with my phone before handing it back. “What problems have you found, Stuart?”
He swallowed. “There’s no clear indicator where your bullets are being deposited once discharged.”
More fucking bullshit. “Are you with the EPA or the City?”
Stuart swallowed again and removed a kerchief from his pocket. “The City as my identification states.”
“And the City has been authorized to enforce federal regulations? Hang on so I can get my lawyer on the phone.” These guys were full of shit, once again, and I was damned tired of it.
I stared him down as I waited for my call to go through.
“Cross, what can I do for you?” Tanya was a boisterous blonde from Georgia, but she was a damn good lawyer who didn’t take shit and had no problem working for a MC.
I gave her a quick rundown of Stuart’s claims. “What should I do?”
“Whatever you do, don’t kick his sniveling fucking face in or you’ll have trouble. Just take the paperwork and make sure it’s dated and signed. Make sure everything is laid out and easy to understand. When that shithead leaves, send it to me and I’ll take care of it.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks Tanya.”
“It’s why y’all pay me the big bucks.” She laughed and ended the call before I could.
I slid the phone back into my back pocket and stared at Stuart, fighting the urge to ignore Tanya’s warning and pummel his face. That thought just pissed me off because it reminded me of Moon’s words before I drifted off on her sofa. And then you can leave and ruin all of my hard work with your stressful life. “Well?”
“There is another matter. The guns, do you have proof they were purchased legally?”
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
He shook his head while wiping more sweat from his forehead and his brow. “I assure you I am not.”
“Right. Then show me what law says I have to.”
“Look, there’s no reason to—”
“Show me the goddamn paperwork or get the fuck off my property, Stuart.”
With quick moves, Stuart scribbled on a sheet of paper and handed it to me. “You have fourteen business days to answer our requests or fines will incur.”
“You done?” He opened his mouth to say more but my patience was done. “Get the fuck out.” I didn’t raise my voice because I didn’t need to, Stuart got the message and got out of my sight real fucking fast.
Even with him gone, my anger and frustration hadn’t subsided. Despite all of Moon’s work to calm me down, which had worked dammit, I was all riled up again. My mind raced to connect the dots. I knew all the bullshit the Bastards were going through with the city was connected even if I didn’t know how. Or why they’d targeted the Reckless Bastards. But I knew who would and I called him as I headed back to my bike.
“What’s up, Cross?”
“Jag, can you do a deep dive to see who we pissed off in city government? I can’t figure out all the pieces yet, but a city inspector was just at the gun range.”
He whistled. “Two weeks ago it was Bungalow Three.”
“And I’m sure more will come. Can you do it?”