Luke hadn’t been there when Rob Gibson detailed the seriousness of James Pearson’s crimes. Saks had seen the look on the man’s face, and it was one he understood well. He dropped his empty glass onto the table with a thud.
“Damn it, Saks! That girl is just bad news. Wise guy mafia grandfather, father—damn, the whole freaking family is mob material.”
“So’s mine,” Saks said pointedly.
“But yours is at least helpful. If it wasn’t for them, the Rojos would have started bringing drugs in through my fucked-up uncle.”
“That’s not how your uncle explained it.”
“And you believe him? No. There’s only one thing Uncle Raymondo Icherra wanted, and that’s me in the family fold. He’d do anything for that to happen, and he won't change his mind one bit about it. If there’s one thing you can be sure of, it’s that he’s looking for a way to get into my business and me into his.”
Saks could relate. His familia wanted him in the family business. They were so desperate for it they’d agreed to his Uncle Vit’s proposal that Saks marry a Serafini girl. Saks had hated the idea, and even started an affair with a whip-smart and classy gal who melted him on the insides and made him rock-hard on the outside. That the woman had turned out to be the same Serafini his and her family picked to marry Saks was an irony even Shakespeare didn’t tease out of his stories.
She was the same woman who’d left him to fly off with one James Pearson, a rich fuck, and all- around bad guy. The thought of him being near Chrissy made his blood boil.
On top of that, his shoulder throbbed like a bitch and the police had, quite rightly, confiscated hi
s pain meds as part of their investigation. The beer didn’t do much to ease the pain in either his shoulder or his heart.
Saks wasn’t a man who sat around and felt sorry for himself, but today he was getting there fast. He needed a change in his life. Hell, he needed a change in the conversation.
“Luke. Boss,” Saks corrected as he switched gears. “Our newly hired mechanic is an active FBI agent, and your newly promoted shop manager has a temporarily busted wing. I think it's time to find new personnel.”
“You’re right,” Luke said sourly. “Damn, ever since Gibs died I can’t keep a crew.”
“I have an idea, but don’t hate me for it.”
“What?”
“More like who. Pepper.”
Hector Gonzales AKA Pepper was a DEA agent, who thought Luke got a bad deal from the government and tried to help by getting Rob Gibson involved. But in the process, he lied to Okie about Luke’s involvement with the DEA and got him kicked out of the club. No. Pepper wasn’t Luke’s favorite person.
“No,” Luke growled.
“But we know his work.”
“And we found out he’s a liar and a backstabber. No.”
“He was doing his job.”
“Look, I don’t fucking care. He betrayed me, you, and the entire club. I can’t trust him, and I won’t hire him back.”
“Do you want to shut down your shop?” Saks pressed. “Have you even looked at how many Harley shops in New England are looking for technicians? Besides, who do you think can really get the skinny on why Rob Gibson is hanging around our shop?”
“Sometimes I hate you, Saks,” Luke muttered. He nursed his beer for the distraction that it was.
Saks sank into the couch. “You know I’m right.”
“Well, even if that were true, how would we get a hold of him?”
“Who,” Emily asked as she walked into the living room.
“Pepper.”
“Pepper? Oh, he works at the Harley dealership in Hartford.”
Luke frowned. “And you know this how?”