Coop (Reckless Souls MC 1)

It’s a tactic Shades uses often because he’s the only one ballsy or crazy enough to goad Ace in that way.

“He hasn’t done shit yet to warrant that. I’ll talk to him,” Ace says in that steely, even tone he uses when he’s done talking a subject to death, then his gaze lands on me.

“We need to be more careful at the Port. It’s not our fucking personal playground. Anything that needs to be done to anyone can be done away from the Port.”

I nod my understanding and leave the clubhouse so Shades and Ace can argue the shit out of the Delaney situation, while I take the mile-long road that separates the clubhouse from the shops.

Some days, I have thoughts of moving up in the Reckless Souls ranks, maybe becoming VP or even Prez in the future. Then the wandering nomad kicks in and I’m not even sure I want to even be the honorary Sergeant at Arms.

Maybe my dad has a point, and I’m not cut out for a permanent role like that since my first instinct is to bust heads, crack kneecaps and get on the road.

Ace Motors is dead when I get there. No customers littering the front of the shop. No machines whirring and whizzing in the back. Two prospects, Lucky and Devon, sit at a metal table with cigarettes hanging from their mouths, chatting quietly.

“Is this what you fuckers do when no one is here to watch you?” Both probies jump at the sound of my voice, and, not gonna lie, it brings a smile to my face. “Well?”

Lucky shrugs and stands before he stamps out his cigarette. “The BMW is done, waiting for pickup. That joke of a Ducati is all tricked out for the college douchebag. The Volvo and Mitsubishi are waiting for parts, which should be in today’s shipment.”

Lucky sighs and I feel my throat tighten. “You saw the loose battery on the Lexus?”

I nod.

“Well, it also looks like some of the electric connectors have been fucked around with.”

Shit. “Deliberately?”

Lucky nods, his expression grave. “Seems so. Your girl got enemies you know about?”

I shook my head. “Kelsey’s not like that. Maybe a few jealous college girls or some shit.”

The truth is I had the same thought about the loose battery, so I say what I don’t want to be true. “Her father is rich, though. Like trust fund bazillionaire rich. And connected.”

Lucky nods, understanding exactly what I’m saying. “All right. I’ll give it a thorough check, then. Make sure nothing else has been fucked around with. Gonna be another few days, though.”

“I’ll let her know.”

Lucky smiles. “I’m sure.”

Before I can flip him off, the metal bay door slides open to reveal Joaquin wearing a wicked smile and looking exactly like a cat gifting you a dead rat.

“Yo, Coop. I brought you a gift.” He has a fistful of flannel shirt containing a rail thin blond with a buzzcut and a terrified expression on his face.

“What is it?” He looks like a kid, which doesn’t surprise me since many crews like Iron Kings prey on young kids to do their dirty work.

“Intel.” He says the words as though it’s obvious this flannel-wearing fucker is an asset. “This here is Satellite because he hears everything, Coop. Everything.”

I smile and shake my head. “This is becoming a habit,” I joke because it seems as if every other day, someone is dragged in here to deliver intel.

“How did you find him?”

Joaquin shrugged. “He found me, man. I’d never put the MC in danger. Ever.”

He also won’t break the rules because he knows it’s the fastest way to get booted out before he gets patched.

“I listened to what he had to say and figured you’d want to hear it straight from the horse’s mouth.”

I nod for him to bring the kid inside.

When Joaquin hauls him in, I tell him, “Have a seat.”

He sits and looks up at me, still full of fear. “I don’t work for anyone,” he clarifies. “Not really.”

His words, chosen carefully, pique my interest. “How exactly do you work?” I fold my arms and wait because you can never be too careful when it comes to people who sell info to the highest bidder.

He swallows a dry lump in his throat, and I grab a bottle of water and shove it in front of him. Another fucking junkie.

“Joaquin is always good to me, treats me like a fucking person, unlike a lot of other people.”

His dark gaze shoots to Joaquin, who nods in encouragement for him to continue. “So if I hear anything that might help him, I let him know. He hooks me up.”

“With?”

Satellite shrugs. “Weed. Cash. Food. My only needs.” His crooked smile is almost endearing but mostly sad. The kid is too fucking young to be comfortable living on the street.