Page 14 of Mac (Demented Souls #7)

Ghost shook his head. "That many will take me upwards of a week unless I get some help.

With a couple good men to pack and unpack, we can cut that by a couple days.

If I had someone to help me disassemble and reassemble, on top of the men to pack them, we can probably do it in two days, three tops. "

"None of us are as good with the weapons as you are, no one nearly as fast at it." Tuck sighed and scanned the room for volunteers.

"Can we trust Savage enough to have him help?" Mac spoke up.

Tuck frowned. "What makes you think of him?"

Mac shrugged. "He was a SEAL. He should know the weapons almost as well as Ghost."

Tuck's brows lifted up his bald head, making his forehead seem smaller. "He's not wrong." he said to Ghost. "What do you think?"

"Give me a day or two to talk to him, maybe see what he's got in the way of skill and I'll get back to you."

"Sounds good." Tuck turned back to therest of the men, as they sat surrounding the conference table.

"We've also got a shipment coming up from the south.

This one's pretty easy, it's not breathing.

This is supposed to be coke, but there may be a little H too.

We don't have all the details yet, but I want at least six, ten would be better, bodies on this one.

The bigger the party, the better. We'll break it up and put it in saddle bags and move it north.

I want it to look like a club out for a ride.

We can have a crew do the pick-up and more join them once the pick-up is done.

If you'd like, the ones that join after the pickup can have women with them.

Or anyone picking up can stop and pick up a girl.

Women will make the ride look more casual and less suspect as a transport run.

None of you are new at this, you all know how it works. "

Around the table several heads nodded.

"I'll assign men to do the pick up when we have a set date and approximate time for the exchange. No point in trying to do it now when we don't know what's going on." Tuck fell quiet as he scanned the faces around the table. "Is there anything anyone else wants to bring up?"

Dumbass leaned forward. "I kind of hate to ask, but are we going to keep Holly on to work the bar here?

I wouldn't normally ask, but we've got three prospects now and even with Sackett working with Gizmo, there was only ever the two of us before.

She likes the job. I would like to know it's coming so I can be prepared if she's going to lose it any time soon.

" Ruger was shaking his head before Dumbass finished talking.

"We have no intention of letting her go. I think she's done an amazing job, even with the unreliable help of the prospects. I'm not yet sure what we'll do in the way of scheduling, but she's in charge of the bar and kitchen here and the prospects will be working for her when they're on bar duty."

"Good to know," Dumbass nodded, "and thank you."

"We gave her the job because we were shorthanded when we patched you in. But she's done so well at it, that we'll keep her on." Tuck leaned back in his seat and watched Dumbass. "That doesn't mean you can tell her what we really are or let her in on our secret, or even yours."

"I know and I won't. She's okay with not knowing everything and at least for now, I think I don't want her to know. Knowing only puts her in danger."

"Tell me about it." Ruger scowled form his seat but didn't say anything more.

Mac hadn't thought much about it either way.

He'd not had anyone he'd ever consider telling.

Ruger had gotten the club's permission to tell Krissi, and at least so far, they hadn't regretted giving it to him.

But as far as Mac knew, she was the only one of the women attached to his brothers who knew what they really were.

Not the criminal motorcycle club they appeared to be, but actually an undercover unit, put together with all kinds of law enforcement, working together to catch the people like they pretended to be.

Okay, so pretended was a strong word. They did all the criminal stuff, they had to in order to maintain their covers.

But it was different. They transported weapons for illegal trades.

.. but planted tracking devices so they would know exactly where they landed.

They moved drugs, and let their agencies know who and where they'd picked up from and delivered to.

They helped smuggle people into the country, but they did background checks and made sure the criminals were turned over to the right authorities, and a couple times they'd found missing people and made sure their families knew where to find them.

On the surface, much of what they did was illegal, and it was, but they had good intentions.

That's not to say they weren't a rough crowd.

They were loud and crud like most clubs were.

It was part of their cover and part of the lifestyle they'd had to cultivate in order for the element they dealt with to accept them.

Some couldn't handle it. They were the prospects that never got patched in. They didn't stay in Tucson.

"Do we have anything else?" Tuck looked around again. No one spoke up."Then I guess we'll adjourn. Remember, we've got a scheduled meeting tomorrow night for normal business. I'll see you all then." He nodded to Dumbass who unlocked the door and left first.

Mac poured himself another drink and stayed where he was.

He'd decided on the way over he'd just stay here tonight.

It wasn't how he'd planned to spend his evening, but neither was the meeting.

And staying here would stop him from doing anything foolish.

Well, maybe not anything but it would keep him from propositioning his hot neighbor, and possibly making an enemy of someone he'd rather be friends with.

Friends with benefits, at least. He'd like a whole lot more than that but didn't think that would happen.

She was too young and too sexy to want anything to do with a dirty mechanic at least ten years older.

"Something wrong?" Ruger's voice pulled Mac back to the present.

"No, why?"

"Don't see youhanging out drinking much anymore." The club treasurer pulled out a chair and sat next to Mac, spinning the padded desk chair back to face Mac. "Want to talk?"

Mac stared at Ruger for several long seconds without speaking. He sipped his scotch and set the glass back down.

"What makes you think talking will help?" Mac asked once they were the only two left in the room.

"I don't. It may or it may not, but you won't know unless you try.

" Ruger smirked, twisting side to side in his chair like a teenager.

Mac turned away, staring at his glass for the space of several breaths.

He hoped Ruger would give up and leave but he didn't. He just sat there smirking and twisting.

"Have you ever regretted getting involved with Krissi?"

Ruger frowned. After a moment he twisted the seat to face the table. He took a deep breath and opened his mouth then closed it without saying anything. He spun his chair to face Mac.

"I'm not going to lie. I've had moments, fleeting moments, of regret.

But they've never lasted longer than it took to think the words.

" He took a deep breath and started again.

"I've thought it. But as soon as the words form in my head, I know that while somethings might be easier, they wouldn't be better, not for me, not for her.

I take it you're asking because you found a girl?

" Ruger was quiet a moment then spoke again.

"Or a guy. Either is good. I'm not judging. "

That made Mac laugh. He shook his head and resisted the urge to smack the younger man.

"It's a girl. I just met her but..." he trailed off and shook his head again.

How did he describe Elyse in terms that wouldn't make Ruger think she was just another piece of ass, or worse, that Mac was putting her on some kind of pedestal?

"Hmm... Have you talked to her yet?"

Mac scowled at Ruger. How was it the guy was both insightful in ways you'd never expect, yet still asked such dumb questions?

"Of course I've talked to her. What kind of green behind the ears fool do you think I am?

" Mac shook his head and rolled his eyes.

"I have to be careful. She's my neighbor.

The last thing I need is things to go sideways then I'll have a hostile neighbor, one who could cause trouble for years to come. "

Ruger was quiet. He stared at Mac until Mac grew uncomfortable under the scrutiny.

"What?" he finally asked, more than a little irritable.

"When's the last time you had a girl?"

Mac felt his eyes go wide. Was Ruger actually asking that?

"I don't mean sex. We all do that. What I mean is when is that last time you had a girl you called your own. When was the last time you were in a relationship? Not took advantage of one of the club whores or picked up some chick for a one-night stand."

Wow. He'd missed the mark on that one. Mac tried to remember the last time he'd had a relationship, a real one, with a girl.

When had he last had a woman he called his own?

The last woman he could remember calling his own was Jennifer.

But that had been. No way. He had to have had a woman of his own since then.

"That long huh?" Ruger's smirk grew until Mac wanted to knock it off with his fist.

"Let's just say it's been a while." Mac didn't want to admit it had been more than half his life since he'd been in a real relationship with a woman.

He'd devoted himself to the club. To his brothers.

To building his business. He hadn't had time or energy for relationships, and he hadn't been interested in them if he had.

None of those things had changed, well, not much.

The club didn't need him as much. He was one of the older members now, and while he still helped out and did things for the club, the younger brothers, the newer ones, like Ruger, Gizmo, Dumbass and even the prospects, did more.

And then there was his business. It wasn't struggling anymore.

He had mechanics, even someone who came in and helped with the books.

Okay that was Krissi, but still. He didn't have to be there twelve or fourteen hours a day to make sure everything got done, and to his specifications, not anymore.

And then there was Elyse. She wasn't just the average woman.

Mac couldn't tell you what it was about her, but something made him want more.

It was her, he was certain, and not just that he was getting older and wondering where his life was going.

He knew where it was going. Where it had been going for the last twenty years, or nearly.

Damn. Now he had to learn how to be in a relationship.

He tried to remember what had happened with Jennifer, why they had broken up and what had happened.

It had been a long time ago. Before he'd come to Tucson, which meant it was before he'd joined the Souls.

Crap, it had been before he'd joined the Marshalls service, back when he'd still been with the Army.

Mac sat in the conference room, staring into his glass and trying to remember. He was barely aware of Ruger standing and leaving him to his thoughts.

Maybe he was too old to figure this out and he should just walk away now?

But was he that old? Did he feel that old?

Sure, he had mornings where it was harder to get out of bed than ever before, at least when he hadn't been hurt for some reason but that didn't mean he was ready for the grave just yet.

He wasn't too old to learn new things. He wasn't ready for the club, nor the Marshalls, to retire him.

Hell no. He still had a lot of good years left.

If he looked at the average age of men in this country, he still had more than thirty years to go.

He didn't regret the way he'd spent the first forty-five years, but the idea of living the next thirty, or maybe more, without someone he could count on, well, aside from his brothers.

There was no doubt they'd be there for him if they could be, but there was something different about having a woman around.

Something that made things seem, he wasn't sure, fuller maybe?

The idea of going out hunting for a woman to round out his life, that had no appeal for him, but Elyse?

She was appealing. Just about everything about her appealed to Mac.

For a moment he couldn't help but wonder how she'd feel pressed against him.

Would her curves fit against him like she'd been made for him?

He already knew her heady scent made every thought but her disappear from his head.

He wondered if she'd taste as appealing as she smelled.

Would her touch make the rest of the world disappear, at least for a moment?

Mac drained the last of the scotch from his glass and left it on the table as he picked up the bottle and carried it up to his room here.

If he was going to stay here, not go home, and not knock on her door and kiss the breath out of her, then he was going to need at least another drink, if not several.