Zero Tolerance (Lost Kings MC 12)

After shutting the door, he turns and faces me, pushing into my space. “What part of ‘under no circumstances are we taking on Sway’s work with DeLova’ confused you?”

Even though anger’s vibrating off my best friend in waves, I don’t flinch. “Not your call to make, is it, Rock? I’m running downstate now, and I think it’s in my club’s best interest to handle this and keep DeLova happy.”

Man, I feel like a dick.

Rock narrows his eyes and continues staring at me. The need to confess is strong, but I stay steady, staring right back at him.

“Care to share why you’re so eager to break kneecaps all of a sudden?” he asks in a low voice.

“This was already in motion. I’ll take care of it, then I’ll end it.”

“How long have we known each other, Angus?”

“Don’t fuckin’ start with me.”

“How long?”

“Twenty-two, twenty-three years?”

“You think I don’t know when you’re lying after all that time?”

When I don’t answer, he holds out his hand. “Let me see the paper.”

“I said I’m going to handle it.”

“Let me see it.”

I hand it over, praying he won’t recognize the name.

“Jesus Christ.” He shakes his head. “This one her father?”

“How do you—”

“You really think I don’t know the last name of one of my wife’s friends?”

I snap the paper out of his hands and stuff it in my pocket. “Yeah, it’s her father.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Handle it.”

“How?”

“I’m gonna have a chat with him and if he doesn’t have the cash, I’m gonna pay it off and tell DeLova Volkov’s off-limits.”

“Fuck, that’s a dicey plan, Z.”

“The guy’s a judgmental prick, yet he’s in debt to the fuckin’ mob.” I’d laugh at the irony if I wasn’t so pissed right now.

Rock raises an eyebrow. Right, I never told him about the fucked-up family dinner at the Volkov home.

I shake my head. “She brought me to her parents’ for dinner and it was a total shit show.”

His lips quirk. “Didn’t care for your ink?”

“That was the least of it. He’s an asshole who treats his daughter like shit. Neither of them are real nice to Chance either from what I saw.”

“Ah, shit. I’m sorry, brother. Maybe you should let DeLova take care of him.”

“Don’t think I didn’t consider it.” I run my hands through my hair. Yeah, I don’t like or respect Lilly’s father. But he is my son’s grandfather. DeLova doesn’t play. No question, he’ll hurt anyone who can’t pay their debt. Burning down his business or something equally unpleasant are also options in DeLova’s toolbox of terror. If I’m in a position to prevent it, I should. For Lilly’s sake, right? “Just this once. After that, he’s on his own.”

“Fair enough. You’re probably not gonna want company for that visit. But I don’t want you going alone on the other collection. Take Murphy with you.”

“I will.”

“Gonna tell Lilly about her father?”

“Not unless I have to.”

His mouth turns down. “Secret like that is bound to blow up in your face, brother.” He holds his hands up. “I’m just saying.”

“One thing at a time. I still gotta explain to her why I’ll be moving two hours south for a few months.”

“What shit timing.”

“Yeah, when Sway recovers, I might just shoot him myself.”

Finally, the tension in the room evaporates.

Rock laughs. “Get in line.”

Thirty-Two

Z

Word about Sway continues to spread. All we can do is wait in the hospital to see if his condition improves.

More brothers from his club trickle in, taking shifts to make sure we maintain a strong presence.

Steer, who moved into the SAA position recently, comes over and shakes my hand. “Good to see you, brother. It’s been a minute.”

Now Steer, I actually respect. He spent a couple months working at Crystal Ball, helping us out when we were short-handed.

“Any leads?” Rock asks.

“No, and the cops are all over the clubhouse so you can imagine how that’s playing out.”

If Sway’s smart—which sometimes I doubt—he doesn’t allow anything incriminating to be stored at the clubhouse. Especially since the location of their clubhouse is easily accessible and well-known.

I have no idea if Shadow filled anyone in or if Priest sat down to explain the situation yet to the rest of the club, so I keep my mouth shut.

While I respect Steer, he’s been by Sway’s side in one role or another for a long time. He might not appreciate me stepping into the lead role in his club.

Eventually, Steer moves on to talk to other brothers.

“Priest better plan to stick around and have a word with Sway’s crew,” Rock grumbles. “I don’t want you to have to go in and explain it without backup from National.”

“You all right with this, Prez?”

“No, I’m not all right with it. Stop asking.”

Feeling antsy, I glance around.

“You wanna go handle your father-in-law?” Rock asks low enough no one should overhear.

“Probably not a good time for me to disappear. What if Priest wants to have that sit-down?”

Rock glances around the room. “He ain’t doing it now. My guess is he’ll wait for more information about Sway’s condition before dropping that bomb.”

“Well, I should be here—”

“Why? They’re not gonna let us in to see him any time soon.” He glances around the room. “Go. I’ll cover you if anything comes up. Better to get it out of the way now. I have a feeling once Priest makes his announcement, things will move quick for you and you might not get another chance.”

This right here is why I’ll always have Rock’s back.

“Thank you, brother.”

He nods to Teller and Murphy, sitting on the other side of the room. “You want to take someone with you?”

“Nah, I think I should handle this one alone. I’ll definitely take Murphy for the second one.”

“All right. Don’t underestimate him. Desperate men do stupid things.”

“I’ll be careful.”

“Try not to kill him. Old fuck just got out of the hospital.”

“Eh, I already threatened to put him back in once and he survived.”

The long ride gives me time

to think about how I want to handle this conversation with Lilly’s father.

I don’t want to have it at the house in front of his wife or, worse, any other of Lilly’s family who might be visiting.

Lilly mentioned her father was already back to work at the carpet store he owns outside of Lake George, so I head there first.

When I arrive at the shop, it’s not quite what I expected. I pictured some sort of carpet warehouse full of cheap rolls of scratchy industrial floor coverings, but that’s not what Mr. Volkov has at all.

It’s more of a boutique that carries the fancy, hand-knotted rugs you’d toss over a Fifth Avenue apartment for your tiny pocket dog to walk over.

Maybe Manhattan still has a large customer base for rare Persian silk rugs, but up here in this part of New York? Seems unlikely.

Guess that’s why he’s in debt to the mob.

The store is empty-shocker. I creep through it, waiting for some sales person to jump out at me, but there’s no one here.

Shit, maybe DeLova didn’t want to wait for me to get my ass up here and sent someone else.

Finally, as I move closer to the back, a loud, pompous voice reaches me. Confident it’s Mr. Volkov, I slap open the door leading into the back room.

He’s on the phone, frantically shouting at someone, but turns when he hears me. His eyes widen and he quickly hangs up the phone.

“What the hell are you doing here?” He seems equal parts shocked, embarrassed, and angry.

“Have a seat, Mr. Volkov.” He obviously makes bad decisions and he seems like the sort of man who probably keeps a gun in the drawer, so I nod to the chair in front of a large, wood desk.

I’m armed myself, but I’d rather not have this escalate.

“This’ll take a minute.”

“If you’re here to ask to marry my daughter, I don’t care one way or another.”