Copper (Hell's Handlers MC 4)

The ride took a little under two hours. Thankfully Rusty managed to keep his bike pointed in the right direction the entire trip. They made sure Rusty rode between him and Zach just to be sure.

Copper had no problem meeting on Joe’s turf mainly because he didn’t want the asshole in Townsend or anywhere he’d risk running into Shell.

The initial plan had been to put pressure on Joe. Get him to return the money collected from Shell. After some debate, a new idea came to light. Ragnar wouldn’t let the debt slide and wouldn’t return Shell’s money without a fight. A fight the Handlers didn’t need. Not with Lefty crawling out from whatever rock he’d been hiding under and getting back in business. The club could use Joe’s help. Pissing him off wouldn’t get that help. So, they’d have to give the man what he wanted to get what they needed. The enemy of my enemy is my friend and such shit.

Last night, the club voted almost unanimously to cover the debt Shell’s father incurred and reimburse the money she’d already forfeited to Joe. Rusty had been the only one to shoot down the vote. Said they shouldn’t be cleaning up bitches’ messes. Even after reminding him the debt wasn’t actually Shell’s, but the club’s prior president’s, he stuck to his guns.

Whatever the fuck was going on with him, it was bleeding into club business and had the potential to fuck with Copper’s personal life as well. Not that he’d let it. Blood brother or not, Shell would be protected at all costs. And getting her to accept money from the club was a battle for another day. He smiled to himself. There were plenty of ways to get her to take the money. Very pleasurable ways.

After dropping their kickstands, they strode through the dimly lit bar to a back-corner booth as directed by a meathead bouncer. Zach slipped into the booth followed by Copper, while Rusty stood guard near the bar, arms folded across his chest. Normally Zach’s role, but he didn’t trust Rust to keep his yap shut. Fucking up this meet was not an option.

Even though they were ten minutes early, Joe was already seated and had his own muscle lingering much in the same stance as Rusty. “Copper,” he said with a grin. The smaller man had grown a goatee since he’d last been in Townsend. Darker than the graying hair on his head, it looked dyed, fake. “Can’t say I was surprised to hear from you after running into you at our girl’s house.”

Our girl.

Fuck that.

Copper’s fists curled, but he managed to avoid busting Joe’s teeth. The goal here was to get the fucker off Shell’s back. Not leave with a target on his own. While going home with some of Joe’s pearly whites littering the floor of the bar might feel satisfying, it wouldn’t accomplish the goal.

“Here.” He tossed a thick envelope on the table in front of Joe.

One of the man’s eyebrows rose into a triangular point. “What’s this?”

“Payment. In full. Every cent Shell owes you plus interest as though you continued to collect from her monthly.”

The other eyebrow met its counterpart. “Bitch must have a mouth like a Hoover for you to go to all this trouble.”

Across the room, Rusty laughed. Funny how Copper could let Joe’s taunt roll off his back, but when Rusty laughed, he wanted to rip his brother’s throat out. Zach’s foot landed on his. A subtle don’t fucking do it. Copper rolled his shoulders. “We square?”

With a shrug, Joe said, “Looks like it.” A sly smile curved his lips. “Hell, had I known you’d fork over the cash this easily I’d have come to the club in the first place.”

That was a pile of bullshit if he’d ever heard one. Joe was far from stupid. Had he darkened the Handlers’ door, he’d have been sent packing with a few motorcycle boots up his ass. He’d played the game well. Gone after what he considered a weak link. Probably figured it was only a matter of time before Shell went crying to the club for help. Then they’d be forced to pay. The end result was the same, but Joe underestimated Shell. Had Copper not discovered her secret, she’d have surrendered every penny from her meager paycheck to clear the debt on her own.

“Got some other business,” Zach said, speaking up for the first time.

“Oh yeah? What’s that?” Joe clutched the envelope as though afraid Copper or Zach would snatch it back and make a run for it.

“Seem to have an uptick in meth sales on our turf over the last few weeks. Got any idea what that’s about?” Zach practically snarled the words.

“Nope. Can’t say that I do. Ain’t us, boys.” Joe smirked.

Zach’s snort filled the booth. “Right.”