Page 43 of Kane
If only it were enough to let him forget the reason they were here. It took everything he had not to drag his buddy out of here, to plead again for the club to reconsider. But the MC worked a certain way. After a vote, you were either with them or against them. At best, fighting the tide would mean a beating; at worst, excommunication for life.
“Well, look here, Cole. It seems we’ve got some race traitors on our hands.”
Shit.
He cringed against the unmistakable drawl of David Bennett, VP of the Christian Soldiers MC. The group wasn’t made of any real Christians or soldiers he was aware of. They were basically a bunch of white supremacist bullies who liked to pump themselves up by tearing everyone else down.
He wasn’t in the mood for their particular brand of bullshit. “What the fuck are you doing here, Benny? Why don’t you hit the mall? I hear JC Penney has some white sheets on sale.”
The man’s face tightened with the nickname Kane insisted on using. With his sharp features, blond hair and blue eyes, Bennett would have almost been pretty if he didn’t have a perpetual snarl on his face. He was living proof someone could have the face of an angel and still be a cesspool of rot inside.
“One day you and I are going to have a reckoning over your smart mouth, Hale.” Another blond-haired, blue-eyed goon stepped up behind him.
Kane rolled his eyes as Cue Ball took a position at his six. “I don’t have time for this. Seriously. What are you doing here?”
Bennett flexed his jaw. “I heard the Skulls were taking over the wetback’s drug operation out here.”
Kane shrugged. Even if he hated what he was doing, he couldn’t disrespect the club by making it public.
The other man lifted his own shoulder in return. “Doesn’t matter to me if these thugs kill themselves with pharmaceuticals.”
“But?”
“But you’re working with a black supplier, employing black pushers. My men were ready to work this neighborhood with an Aryan supplier, putting cash in the hands of our own kind.” Bennett’s voice rose like a preacher on a pulpit.
He waved it off. “You know I don’t care about all your racist shit. The only hands I care about putting cash in are my own. This is business, Benny, plain and simple.”
“Don’t be naïve. With Sucre gone, this was finally our chance to—”
“I don’t give a good goddamn about your race war shit. Save your breath. This is about bankrolling my club. No more, no less.”
Bennett took a step forward, and Cue growled. The Soldiers’ VP froze, then purposely loosened his posture. He may have been trying to look unfazed, but he was failing spectacularly. “We have a very important man in our corner. You don’t want to get on his bad side.”
This time, Kane stepped forward. He was so close to Bennett’s face, he could smell the stale cigarettes on his breath. “You don’t want to be onmybad side, Benny. Why don’t you take your White Power bullshit and get the fuck out of my business? There are plenty of other places you can sell your product.” He smiled. “Now get off of my lawn.”
Bennett narrowed his eyes, but he took a step back. Then he turned and walked with his buddy back to the bikes they’d left at the curb.
Cue Ball ran a hand over his bald head. “You sure that was a good idea, brother? No real reason to make problems with the Soldiers.”
What? “They came here to make problems withus.You think I should let David Bennett tell us how to do business?”
“I guess not,” Cue mumbled. He took a breath, then shook off whatever was bothering him. “We’d better get going. Scott’s got a surprise for us cooking over at the clubhouse.”
He nodded. It was getting dark anyway. But something told him his brother’s surprise was going to be about as fun as the meeting with Benny had been.
***
The prospect greeted Kane at the front door by handing him a surgical mask.
“What the hell is this?” He held it up between his fingers.
“Just put it on, KC.” His mother beckoned him inside. “Don’t want you breathing in any of the fumes.” Mama V had her own mask secured tightly at the back of her teased blond head.
With a suspicious lift of his eyebrow, he did as his mother instructed. “What’s going on?”
The skin around her eyes crinkled, and she grabbed his arm, pulling him back toward the kitchen. “SP has everybody hard at work.”
The kitchen table and counters were crowded with empty Coke bottles, coffee filters, duct tape, and a whole bunch of other shit. None of it registered until he caught sight of the tall stack of Sudafed in front of one of his brothers. Owen was punching the red pills out of the foil into a big plastic bowl.