Page 8 of Bad Luck, Hard Love (Heaven’s Rejects MC #6)

“I was in the neighborhood,” I settle into the only chair in the room, making myself comfortable.

“Here's the thing, prospect. I've been around long enough to know when a chapter's getting in over its head. Whatever Ace has you guys mixed up in, it's big enough to risk cutting ties with the mother chapter. That tells me it's very profitable.”

“Look, man, I just do what I'm told. I don't ask questions.”

“Smart policy, but quit bullshitting me. Kid like you, I bet you overhear all kinds of shit.”

Marcus shifts. The kid's nervous energy fills the small space, making the air feel even more suffocating.

“You don't understand,” he finally says. “These aren't people you cross. They've got connections everywhere—cops, judges, politicians. Ace made it clear what happens to anyone who talks out of turn.”

“And what happens to people who don't talk when the mother chapter comes asking?” I lean forward. “You think Raze is going to be understanding when he finds out your chapter's been freelancing without permission?”

The prospect swallows hard. “Fuck,” he mutters, running shaky hands through his greasy hair. “I'm screwed either way.”

“Not necessarily. You tell me what I need to know, and you and Rebecca, who I am guessing is sleeping in your bedroom right now, will walk away scot-free. But you need to start talking. Now. Who was in that SUV?”

Would I use his girlfriend against him? No. But he doesn’t know that, and I’ll take every piece of leverage I can use to get the information I need.

“I don't know his name,” Marcus blurts out, the words tumbling over each other. “But he's got money. Real money.”

The prospect's eyes dart toward the bedroom door, confirming my suspicion about Rebecca. His shoulders slump in defeat.

“They call him Zephyr,” Marcus continues. “Never shows his face at the clubhouse except for these private meetings. Always rolls up in that SUV with his driver—some ex-military type who doesn't talk.”

“Zephyr,” I repeat, committing the name to memory. “What's his business with your chapter?”

Marcus wipes sweat from his upper lip. “I've only heard bits and pieces. Something about distribution channels through the Southwest. The Vegas chapter's territory is perfect—connections to California, Arizona, and Utah. They're using our network to move product.”

“What kind of product?”

“I don’t know. They never let me go with them. They leave me at the clubhouse to watch the place and the women.”

The bedroom door creaks open, and a petite brunette peers out. She's wearing one of Marcus's oversized t-shirts and clutching a cell phone like it's a lifeline.

“Marcus?”

“Go back to bed, Becca,” Marcus orders.

“Rebecca, right? I'm not here to hurt anyone. I just need some information about Marcus's club.”

She shakes her head frantically. “We don't know anything. Marcus barely tells me about club business.”

“Becca, shut up,” Marcus hisses, but it's too late. The damage is done.

“Barely tells you,” I repeat, standing slowly. “But he tells you some things. Like maybe who's been coming around lately? Who has him scared enough to keep a gun tucked in his waistband?”

I can see the internal battle playing out on her face. Loyalty to Marcus versus fear of what might happen if she doesn't talk.

“It's okay. Whatever you tell me stays here. I just need to know what's happening with the Vegas chapter.”

“Becca, don't—” Marcus starts, but she cuts him off.

“They're going to get you killed, Marcus. I told you joining up with them was a bad idea. I could have worked off my debts.”

“By being their fucking whore, Becca.”

I watch the exchange carefully, piecing together what I'm hearing. The girl is in debt to someone—someone connected to the Vegas chapter. And they were willing to collect in flesh rather than cash.

“What debts?” I ask, directing my question to Rebecca.

She flinches, tugging the oversized shirt lower over her thighs. “I got in over my head at the casinos. Started with a little blackjack, then poker. Before I knew it, I was thirty grand in the hole to some very bad people.”

“Zephyr's people,” I guess, watching her nod reluctantly.

“They were going to take me to work it off at one of their places outside the city,” she continues. “Marcus stepped in, said he'd join the club and work off my debt instead.”

I look at Marcus with new understanding. “So, Ace recruited you to pay off your girlfriend's gambling debts?”

“It wasn't like that at first,” Marcus says, deflating visibly. “I've always wanted to prospect. The debt just...speed things up.”

“But what are you moving for them?” I press, watching Marcus's expression change from resignation to fear.

“What are they having you transport that's worth cutting ties with the mother chapter?”

Marcus hesitates. “I'll ask one more time. What are you moving for them?”

Marcus and Rebecca exchange a panicked glance before she speaks up. “We really don’t know, but Marcus can find out. Can’t you?”

Marcus shakes his head violently. “No fucking way. You don't understand what these people are capable of. They've got eyes and ears everywhere. If they find out I'm talking?—”

“Then you better make sure they don't find out,” I cut him off, “Because right now, you've got bigger problems than Zephyr. You've got Raze breathing down your neck, and trust me, kid, he's not as patient as I am.”

The prospect's face goes from pale to green. He knows Raze's reputation. Every member of every chapter knows what happens when you cross the mother chapter president. He may have turned over a new leaf but Raze still strikes fear in most people.

“I can't. They'll kill us both.”

“You can, and you will if you want you and your girlfriend to come out of this alive. You are going to get me the information that I want.”

“How the fuck am I supposed to do that? I’m a prospect. Not a patch. They don’t tell me shit.”

“Figure it out,” I shrug. “You’ve got forty-eight hours to find me something.”

I finger my wallet from my back pocket, finding one of my old business cards from the bar, and handing it to Marcus. “Get me what the fuck I need and then you call that number.”

Marcus stares at the card like it might bite him, finally taking it with trembling fingers. “And if I don't?”

“Then you better hope Zephyr finds you before Raze does. I move toward the door, pausing with my hand on the knob. “And Marcus? Don't even think about running. We can track you far faster than you can run.”

The lie rolls off my tongue easily. V could track them if needed, but he's not actively monitoring them. The prospect doesn't need to know that.

Outside, the heat crashes over me, suffocating and relentless. I pull my phone from my pocket and dial V. He barely says hello before I rattle off the limited information Marcus provided me.

“Zephyr? Jesus Christ, who comes up with these nicknames nowadays? There are so many good ones to choose from, and they go with Zephyr.”

“I didn’t call to have a roundtable about the alias they’re using, V.”

“I’ll add that to the mountain of shit you’ve asked me to do. Does this go to the head of the pile?”

“Yeah, it does. We need to know who this Zephyr character is. Sounds like he's the key to whatever's going on here.”

“On it. What about our club-drugging assholes? Still want me to track them down?”

I hesitate, thinking of Charlotte's face when I told her what happened. “Yeah. Keep digging.”

“You got it. And Thor? The reservation is confirmed for eight. Don't be late.”