Page 1 of Property of Tacoma

PROLOGUE

“That fat fucker is twenty minutes late,” Bash growls, drumming his fingers distractedly on the tabletop as he scans the crowd inside the strip club. “That’s disrespectful as fuck, Prez.”

It is, but that’s not really what’s got my SAA’s panties in a twist.

He’s been lashing out at everyone and everything since the news came out about Hattie Lynn being engaged to the Titans’ hotshot running back.

Hattie’s a big country music star now in Nashville. Left Odin a few years ago to chase her dreams. I’m pretty sure Bash had a lot to do with her leaving, but that’s not my story to tell.

Never the less, the news of his ex’s upcoming nuptials hasn’t gone over so well.

A lot like baptising a cat, if you know what I mean.

He needs to get laid and maybe that’d help get that girl out of his system.

However, that’s going to have to wait until after we figure out what the fuck Camden is up to.

“That weaselly fucker operates on his own schedule. He always has. It’s not anything new.” I take a sip of Jameson, savoring the burn of the amber liquid as it slides down my throat.

Damn that goes down smooth.

Gator finally looks away from the woman on stage that I’ve never seen before, and tunes into our conversation. “Schedule my ass,” he snorts. “That motherfucker’s probably out in his car, powdering his nose before coming in here to piss us all off.”

I chuckle, tapping the side of my nose.

He hit the nail right on the head.

The mayor has a thousand-dollar-a-week habit that the good people of Odin aren’t privy to.

“Who’s that?” I nod my head at the woman he’s been watching like a hawk since we got here.

She’s looks nothing like the other dancers.

Her hair is a wild shade of purple, and she’s covered in ink. Her body’s banging, but she’s going to have to lose the frown on her face if she wants to make the big money.

“New chick,” Bash answers. “Calls herself Lavender.”

My lips twitch. The name is definitely fitting with that mess of plum-colored hair hanging down her back.

I lean forward in the booth and crane my neck so I can see Bane better. “What’s her story?”

If there’s one thing I can count on about my little brother, it’s that he’s anal as fuck when it comes to the people living in our town.

He knows everything about everyone.

Especially if they’re on our payroll.

It’s why my Pop picked him to be my VP when my him and uncle Red stepped down and handed over the reins.

“Single mom. Her and her kid just moved back to Odin a couple weeks ago. She’s staying with her Pops.” Bane swivels on the bench seat to face me. “Remember old Fred?”

I quirk a brow, trying to place the name.

Old Fred? Old Fred? The name sounds familiar, but I can’t place it. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do,” he insists, sounding annoyed that I can’t remember who the guy is. “The old timer who worked the shrimp boats.”

Well, shit. Now I remember.