Page 2 of Carver
A scoff came from the kitchen as they approached. Without looking he knew it was Slayer. The noise was one he made often enough to be a bit of a signature.
As they made their way into the room, Carver was greeted by the familiar space. His lips tipped in what he considered to be a smile, though others had said was closer to a grimace.
The large open space of the kitchen was all deep browns and vintage cabinetry. Prepackaged food covered the countertops, creating a sea of plastic and carbs. Ever since the main cook passed away in a firefight, things had been very DIY in the food department. Carver missed big home-cooked meals, though he wasn’t willing to risk his health by eating whatever his men attempted to make him. Food poisoning could kiss his ass.
“You have thoughts on Trix’s work?” Carver asked Slayer.
Slayer replied, “I love how you indulge him by calling video games work.”
“It’s better than rolling around in grease all day. At least I don’t smell like dead rodent ass.” Trix came strolling into the kitchen, his waist-length box braids swinging from side to side. This week they were lime green as opposed to the previous teal color he’d worn.
Many of the men had a problem when Trix first got promoted. They’d tolerated his eccentric style when he was merely a member. Giving him power made it seem like Carver condoned his quirky, and often whimsical, appearance.
The prez was quick to correct anyone who gave the young man shit about his life choices. He didn’t care if Trix wore a fucking bikini around the house as long as he got his work done and put on leathers when they rode. No one wanted to risk exposed skin to the dangers of riding.
“Don’t get started you two. I’m not in the fucking mood.” Slash interrupted the stare off the other two men had going.“Since you’re down here, I suspect you have something that couldn’t wait?”
Trix nodded at the question. “Yeah, I do. There’s trouble brewing with an old friend of yours.”
“I don’t have friends that aren’t in the club,” Carver replied as he went for a beer. The second the icy liquid slid down his throat, he sighed.
“Maybe friend is the wrong word. Whatever you consider Tank to be, then we’ll go with that.”
His head turned at the mention of the other man. If he did have a friend outside of the Angels of Ruin, then Tank was as close as he got. They had a mutual respect for one another thanks to years of crossing paths. It wasn’t like he’d call him to come have a drink or anything. More that they could trade favors should they need extra muscle every now and again.
It had been a while since they’d last connected. If Tank was running into issues now, Carver had no doubt he’d be getting a call soon.
“Does any of it overlap what we’re working on?” he asked as he leaned back against the counter.
Slash still stood at the entry with Slayer beside him. Trix had hopped onto the counter on the other side of the room. He kicked his legs back and forth as he nodded.
“Yep. Sure does. As in it’s the same person we’ve been waiting to take down.”
“Well, shit. That’s good news, I guess,” Slash said. “Then we can move on to someone else. I’m tired of this slippery bitch getting away with stuff.”
The slippery bitch in question was a truly vile human being. She trafficked women and children across the globe, treating them as if they were prized animals at her disposal. Traffickers were fucked up people in general. But seeing a woman step into the role was an entirely different level of wrong.
Carver had been after her for several months. They’d worked on other missions during that time, each one a time filler as they built up the intel needed to take down Mordecai.
“Do you know why Tank is after her too?”
Trix nodded. “From the looks of it, all this started because they got a client who was connected to The Gilded Ones. We know Mordecai is part of that lot too. Tank and his NightShade guys have been taking out some of the players in TGO. It’s gained attention from inside the cesspool.”
“And now they're going after him and his men, right?” Carver questioned.
“Got it in one!” He got a finger gun confirmation from Trix.
Slayer groaned at the motion, then stepped forward and placed his hands on the island. “Enough with the theatrics. Does this mean we get to go hunting? I haven’t had any fun lately.”
“You’ll get your fun when the boss says you do, asshole. Let’s get back on track. Trix, can you give us an ETA on this stuff? Are we looking at a call next week or next month?”
“Actually, more like…” A ringing cut him off.
“Now,” Carver said as he turned his phone to show the group Tank was calling him.
He picked up his beer, then made his way to the office space he had on the ground floor. It wasn’t a big area. Just enough for a desk and some bookshelves to hold the club business records. Carver so rarely spent time in the space that he didn’t feel the need to make it more than a glorified storage room.
“To what do I owe the honor of hearing from you, Tank?” He said as he pushed his door closed. The others would get an update once he knew the basics of what Tank wanted from them. It was always best to keep contact with Tank and the others to a minimum. Carver had no doubt the other man would try to poach his men.