Page 4 of Rogue's Path

And just that fast, my house becomes a trap instead of an oasis in a sea of chaos.

Dahlia….I was supposed to leave to visit Dahlia tomorrow. Those plans feel like they were made so long ago, yet it’s only been a few hours. If I packed and left now, I could probably be on a plane there tonight.

That will work for tonight. Later, I’ll figure out how to feel safe again in my own home.

Guns And a Bike

Rogue

“There’s another dead kid.” I hand the newspaper over to Havoc. “Where are the drugs coming from?”

Havoc takes it but stares at the wall. “Crawley is dead.”

I can’t believe that it was a kid who killed him, even if the kid was a Kamenev.

“That should have slowed down the flow for a while.” He shakes his head. “But it didn’t. We’re losing a kid a week to drug overdoses. My son was offered drugs at school.” Havoc leans back against the worn leather chair. One of the old ladies found it at an antique store.

This is one of those times that I’m happy I don’t have kids yet. We need to get this town cleaned up before I’d let one of my kids anywhere near a public school campus.

Why am I even thinking about kids? I haven’t dated a woman in years.

“What if Crawley wasn’t the boss?”

Huh? “But this town isn’t big enough to support a big operation.”

“It isn’t, but it would be great for a larger operation to expand to.”

That would mean Crawley was just a worker bug. “We aren’t big enough to handle a large cartel. There are only thirty of us.”

“We’re going to have to be a pain in their side until they decide to move somewhere else.”

That sounds logical. “What if they decide to get rid of the irritant?”

Havoc grins. “Then we’ll call Sasha Kamenev in and let them become his problem.”

“You’re insane.” It could work. “The Bratva? You want to get the craziest killers in the world interested in our little town?” A kid killed Crawley. Is a Kamenev ever a kid? They probably come out of the womb hardened killers.

“No. But I’d prefer them to drugs killing our kids.”

Switching one murderer for another doesn’t seem like a wise idea, but the Deathadders don’t seem to be afraid of the Bratva. I’m not the Prez, so that isn’t my worry. “We had a new guy show up. He wants to become a prospect.”

“Ex-military?” Havoc sets the newspaper down and lifts up his coffee cup.

“Nope. Another doctor.”

“Another one? Don’t they get that this is a motorcycle club, not a medical club?”

One out of six make it past being a prospect. Though the nice thing about doctors is that they aren’t squeamish. “The problem is they keep talking about our club like it’s the ‘coolest’ thing ever.”

Havoc raises an eyebrow.

They speak the truth. Where else is it encouraged to have tattoos, beards, and bad attitudes? That should be our club motto.

“Does this one even ride?”

“Sort of.” We don’t really consider crotch rockets a ride.

“So, what you’re saying is this guy has bad taste and a death wish.”