The Prospect

THE PROSPECT: CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Kiddo

I glared at Rig as he came back into the meeting room. Through the open door, Tricia gave me an encouraging smile as two of my brothers escorted her up to my apartment.

Then the door slammed shut behind Rig and Tricia was gone from my sight. The entire room stilled around us, everyone waiting for Rig to speak.

He took several long silent beats, his stare meeting every brother sitting around the table at least once. "It's no surprise to learn that our DA is dirty," Rig finally said. "Half the cops on the force are dirty. Or at least willing to look the other way for a big enough payday. Chiccarini thinks he's God. Is he God?"

"Fuck no!" several brothers shouted in response.

Rig gave a sharp nod. "That's right. Is this is fucking city?"

"Fuck no!" Even more brothers chimed in on the chant.

"Damn straight!" Rig paced now, back and forth along the long side of the table. "Whose fucking city is this?"

"HSC!"

"Whose?"

"HSC!"

"Whose?"

"H! S! C!"

The brothers were worked into a frenzy now, slamming their hands on the table, many on their feet.

I looked around, for the first time feeling the cult-like religiosity of the group. Rig hadn't said anything. He hadn't explained what happened to me. How Tricia and I were set up. That our lives—hers particularly—was now in jeopardy.

Beside me, Shane sat calmly, stoically, the only brother not taking part in the shouting.

I met his gaze, fire in my eyes.

"Easy, Prospect," he grunted, so quiet only I could hear him.

"Would you take it fucking easy if it was Charlie's life being threatened?" I hissed.

He held my stare for a beat. "Not a goddamn chance."

I shoved to my feet with more force than I meant. My chair flew back, slamming into the wall behind me. "This cheer squad is fucking great and all," I said, "But my old lady is in danger because she fucking lied to save my ass—to save this club's ass. So what are we going to do to protect her?"

Rig's eyes flashed with anger at me. "I was getting there, Kiddo."

"Well get there fucking faster."

With the stroll of a panther stalking its prey, Rig circled the table until he was nose to nose with me. In this club, you don't shout at your president. You don't fucking shout when you're a member and you definitely don't shout if you're just a measly prospect.

But I didn't give a shit about that anymore.

The only thing that mattered was keeping Tricia safe.

I held my ground, standing taller as Rig towered over me, trying to assert his dominance in a display of alpha male bullshit.

When I didn't back down, his eyes brightened just barely. And the smallest grin flicked at the corners of his mouth.

He lifted a hand and even though I was pretty sure his fist was about to split open my fucking face, I didn't flinch.

Instead, his palm wrapped around the back of my neck and he pulled me into a hug. "I think our little prospect boy is finally a man!"

More shouts from my brothers. More slamming of fists on the table. Boots stomping against the roughed up hardwood floors.

Rig pulled back, hand still grasping my neck and pulled me so we were nose to nose. "Men take care of their old ladies. At all costs," he said. "But you ever fucking yell at me again?" He paused to point a finger in my face. "I'll fucking skin you alive. Understood?"

It wasn't until I gave him a nod that he released me. But I didn't take my seat.

Rig paced the room, filling my brothers in on what happened to Tricia and me tonight. "Unfortunately," Rig said, "I wasn't able to get to Tricia quickly enough. One of our members from the roaming chapter was able to be at her side faster than me."

One of my brothers that we called Durnya tilted his chin. "The fuck is a roaming chapter?"

I was thinking the same goddamn thing.

"We have some members from long ago who had to move but didn't want to be excommunicated from the club. So they entered a roaming chapter. Some of them move to different cities, others go undercover for us at rival clubs. Some are still considered members, but not active. When I was worried the cops would find Tricia before me, I called in a favor with one of those members... his name's Rogan."

It was bullshit. Every word out of his mouth was bullshit. And based on the way his glare shot briefly to mine, he knew I knew it.

He didn't call on Rogan to help. Rogan had been following us. He'd beaten Rig to the punch and now we owed him.

But Rig, big bad club president couldn't admit that to his peers. So he spun this lie to keep it from our brothers that Rogan was DEA. Hiding in plain sight since Rogan was undercover... just not on our behalf.

"How come we ain't ever heard of this before?" Jibbs said, skeptical.

"You ain't been around long enough," Ryan grunted. He was our enforcer for the club. One of our only men willing to do the dirty work.

"It's true," Clink, one of our oldest members nodded, crossing his arms. "I remember Rogan. He did some reconnaissance for us in other clubs undercover ages ago."

This all begged the question... were Clink and Ryan lying too? Were they in on the ruse? How deep did this run?

My entire adult life I'd trusted my brothers with my life. To my limited knowledge, we had never lied to each other.

I would have sworn that on a goddamn polygraph and passed.

Until today.

Tricia had warned me. She warned me that Rig was hiding something. That he was a liar. That he wasn't the knight in shining armor, the Robin Hood, I'd always thought him to be.

As I watched the lies fly with ease from his mouth in front of these men that he considered family, unease churned in my stomach.

She's right, Sam's voice whispered in my mind.

I couldn't trust Rig.

Not with my life...

And definitely not Tricia's.

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