ONE
Roderick
V was dead.
Things had calmed down.
Meaning they could go back to normal.
No more looking over our shoulders meant we could open the doors again, have parties again.
But what kind of parties could we really have with just Virgin and Roan - and me - being single anymore? And Roan didn't even count since he was still up in his glass room saying something about a storm coming.
So when Reign had a small-time job he needed someone to carry out - just delivering a few rare guns to a collector, not even a criminal of any sort, just someone who liked unique guns that were hard - if not impossible - to find through legal channels, I had jumped at the chance.
To get out of the clubhouse.
To get out of the town for a bit.
It was a cupcake mission, but it would bring me to Long Beach Island, let me get a few days away, maybe meet a fine thing and have some fun before coming back to the oddly empty clubhouse, most of my brothers moving out almost full-time to make lives with their women.
I couldn't blame them.
Family, future, that shit was as important as the brotherhood was.
But I just wasn't at that point.
Something I had to tell my mother every goddamn weekend when she called or I went to see her.
Never mind that I had a handful of single sisters, she still felt the need to rag on me about not settling down.
You're not getting any younger, mijo, she would tell me, making me remind her that I wasn't that old yet either.
Around the time she started wondering aloud if any of The Henchmen old ladies had any sisters or cousins or good friends for me to meet up with, I generally rushed off the phone or kissed her goodbye, claiming I needed to get back to club business.
I loved my mother, but she needed to put a pin in the grandma dream for a couple of years still. Settling down was the last thing on my mind.
"I would normally send at least another man with you, but Henry is an old contact. He was the first contact I ever brought in. Rich as God. There's never been an issue."
"I've got no worries, prez," I told him, shrugging my shoulders as we made our way into the vault, Reign grabbing cardboard boxes instead of the usual duffel bag for the typical AKs and such we generally got the most demand for.
"This is the Howdah he wanted," he told me as he dragged out a long, oddly curved old pistol. I paid three. He will pay eight. And this one is the Titanium Gold Desert Eagle," he went on, flashing a golden gun at me. "Five, but he's paying ten. And then this is the Frank Wesson Double-Trigger. Not worth all that much, but for the trouble it took me to hunt it down, he's paying me three grand. So you are collecting-"
"Twenty-one grand," I supplied. "I can count," I added with a smirk.
"He's probably going to hand you another list. Don't lose it. Keeping him happy keeps our name circling around to the collectors. They bring in a lot of money without all the hassle like the bangers and shit," he concluded, slipping the double-trigger into a long, thin box before duct taping them all together.
"Got it. Rep on the line. Be on my best behavior. Get the right amount of money."
I wasn't exactly new at the lifestyle, but I guess I couldn't begrudge him the Don't fuck this up talk when one of his main guys wasn't on the job.
"And don't touch his dog. He brings the ugly fucking thing everywhere, but the bastard hates everyone. I ended up with stitches the last time I was over there. Take the SUV, obviously," he added, reaching in his pocket for the keys. "I don't mind you staying over a night. But don't be running around with that cash for longer than that."
"Got it," I agreed, taking the boxes from him. "I'll text you as soon as the job is done."
"I'll be waiting," he agreed, staying in the vault as I made my way through the basement, knowing I needed to get on the road soon if I wanted to avoid the five p.m. traffic. I didn't exactly want to be late to my first solo job.
"Yo," Cash called as I moved past him. "Did Reign tell you about Andrew?"
"Andrew?" I asked, slowing to a stop, turning.
"The dog," he clarified.
"He named his dog Andrew? Whatever happened to Shep or Spot or Rover?"
"When you meet Henry, I think you'll understand."
"That's not vague at all," I mumbled, turning around to head into the garage.
Normally, I'd chafe at the idea of traveling without my bike. I hadn't exactly known much about them before I'd joined the MC, but once I had gotten used to them, no other vehicle could compare.