“Shit, brother, you know I’m not fucking on board with this.” He kept his voice a notch above a whisper. Nudging his chin toward their president, vice president, and enforcer, he said, “They’ll have your ass if they catch wind of what you’re saying, though.”
Sarge scratched the side of his clean-shaven head. The guy had been cue-balling it ever since some skirt he’d been chasing told him she had a thing for bald men. “So you’re just gonna let this play out?”
Was he? Could he live with himself?
Viper ran a hand across his unshaven chin. “Fuck,” he mumbled. “How did we not know about this? Can’t believe they managed to keep the fact they’re trafficking women a secret from us for an entire year.”
“Too risky when we were just prospects,” Sarge responded. “Now that we’re patched in, we’re committed. No choice but to be loyal. Well, I guess we could choose to die.” He snorted out a soft laugh.
“Goddammit.” Never in a million years had Viper imagined his dream turning into a shit-pile.
“We gotta do something, V,” Sarge said. The guy’s moral code was looser than a whore’s twat. If he had a problem with this, the situation was pretty fucking bad.
“Can’t do shit right now, brother,” Viper said as the van rolled to a stop. “Meet me at my place when this is done. We’ll come up with a plan.”
The club had its fingers in just about every illegal pot in three counties. Drugs, guns, money laundering, even prostitution. They owned two cat houses full of women selling themselves on a daily basis. Viper never so much as blinked at any of it. Difference was, each and every one of those women came to the club willingly looking to work.
This shit? The chick supposedly in the back of the van? Yeah, she was being sold to the highest bidder and Viper was pretty fucking sure she didn’t want to be.
A short, stout man with a cheap rug and a stash that rivaled a seventies porn star climbed down from the driver’s side of the van. He walked with an exaggerated swagger befitting a cocky teenager trying to hang with the men. With the gold chains and tuft of chest hair peeking from the collar of his shirt, the man was practically a cartoon pimp.
“Hey, Fox. Long time no see.” The man greeted Viper’s father with a limp handshake.
“Yeah, sorry about that, Wayne. Had a cop sniffing around for a few months. Had to lay low with this shit,” Fox replied. His shoulder-length hair had gone gray a few years ago, but even at fifty, Fox managed to maintain a hard and intimidating physique.
Wayne played with the longest of his necklaces. “Heard about that. Glad it’s all cleared up.” He sent a smarmy smile Fox’s way. “Got you a beaut this time, boys. Rich little princess. Virgin too.” He whistled. “She’ll be fun as shit for your buyer to break.”
Vipers stomach turned as his father, and the rest of his cronies laughed. Viper grew up in the club. Not a single day went by where he wasn’t at the clubhouse for some reason or another. He’d spent thousands of hours around the men. From the time he was twelve, he’d caught snippets of club business he never should have been privy to. Never once, did anyone let slip that they trafficked women.
“This is fucked,” Sarge muttered, cracking his knuckles.
“Keep it in check, brother,” Viper whispered back. “We can’t do shit right now. Save it for later.”
“Bring her on out,” Fox said. “My guy is looking for something real specific. I’ll check out the goods. She passes muster, we’ll pay.”
Wayne’s beady eyes lit up. The motherfucker was practically salivating. Whoever the unlucky lady was, she must be going for a mint.
Viper and Sarge stood about fifteen feet from the van, arms crossed, taking it all in. They’d been invited along as extra security on a “sensitive transaction.” Viper hadn’t thought twice about it. He trusted his new brothers implicitly.
Or he had. Until he realized his old man was involved in the one criminal act Viper couldn’t stomach. Hardest part to swallow was that Fox fucking knew what happened to Vanessa and what it did to Viper. He fucking knew Viper would never go for this shit.
As though knowing he was in Viper’s thoughts, Fox turned his way. Viper shoved down the newfound hatred for his father and gave the man a nod. A false show of support.
Fox grinned. He was proud as fuck of his son for approving of the buying and selling of women.
Fuck.
Wayne fished a keyring out of his pocket. The thing made him look like an apartment super. After sifting through about thirty keys, he stuck one in the lock on the back door of the van and twisted. After pulling the heavy door open, he climbed in.