Page 77 of Filthy Savage
“I’ll be fine,” she murmurs. “Go and do your thing.”
“Then we go home,” I grunt. We stare at one another in silence for a moment, and my lips twitch into a smirk knowing that I’m about to say something she is going to fucking love. “Our home.”
“Our home. I think I love the sound of that,” she breathes.
I chuckle. “You should, beautiful. You’re moving in with me. Nowhere else you belong.”
And that is that. I decide to get some of the guys together and go to Austin to get her shit. And sell that stupid fucking car of hers while we’re there. What a useless piece of shit. Maybe it works for her there, but it is not going to fly in Deep East Texas.
CHAPTER
THIRTY
BREW
Church is in fucking session,even though I want nothing more than to celebrate this new milestone with my woman. I also have to make sure that I’m on the visitor’s list for the prison because even though I’ve already talked to Clink, I still want to do it in person.
Atomic’s voice breaks through the thoughts in my head as he begins to tell the rest of the club what we’ve already agreed to with the Southern Mafia head chapter. I can tell immediately that the vibe in the room shifts.
A coldness instantly fills the space.
Not everyone is excited about this, not even after he’s explained why we need this to happen.
“I thought we were done with those fuckers?” Rim growls.
Fate snorts, feeling the same way, no doubt. I can’t deny that I am in their boat. I want nothing to do with any of them, but I’m trusting Atomic’s gut on this, even though I don’t want to.
Atomic holds up his hand and then explains what they’re offering and how this is a truce that we can work with. “The lastthing we need is more war, more issues. Conrad knew what he was doing. He knew that he had us by the balls, and at the same time, we had them, too.”
“Then why not wash our hands and be done?” Strings asks.
“They have contacts with the feds. We have contacts with local and state. This is the way we all stay out of prison. Clink paid the price once. We don’t want that again.”
Mentioning Clink puts a damper on the entire fucking room. The coldness vanishes, and instead, a cloud appears almost instantly. The cloud of prison. The cloud of one of our brothers being locked up for three long fucking years.
Fucking hell.
“This will make the club massively wealthy, but at the same time, it will help our other chapters. Because it won’t be our burden to carry. I really think it will be a great way to expand and help our other charters as well.”
He’s not wrong. If your club is strong, if they have wealth and are able to align with another organization, working with the contacts at the feds, hopefully, we may even, at some point, have our own.
That thought slams into me.
“Is all of this so that we get our own contacts with the feds?” I ask.
I don’t know why it just hit me, but it did. That’s what this is about. He wants his own contact with the feds and knows that this is a way in.
“I want our own contacts with every organization,” Atomic murmurs. “Every single one.”
I like the sound of that, even if it means dealing with these fucks, which I absolutely do not want to do. But at this point, we don’t have much of a choice. Atomic and the office-holding members have agreed to all of the terms, skin, trafficking, Southern Mafia or not, it’s happening.
“The first round will be our men. Five of them will accompany the truck. Then Brew will figure out what other clubs will take the next loads and the schedule.”
Great.
More work for me.
The club nods their heads, enjoying the money and protection aspect of it all, which I quite enjoy as well. But there is one part of the contract that I do not like, and they would not relent on—the woman.