Page 12 of Ruin (Hell’s Mayhem MC: Maine Chapter #2)

Chapter Eleven

Kolton

When I handed the check to Kenting this morning and told him to donate the extra to the school to get better materials for the kids, he looked like he was going to pass out.

At first, I thought it was because it was twelve grand more than he needed, but then I realized it was because he was wondering how I got all that money.

Murder? Extortion? Would someone come knocking on his door, demanding it back? And if they didn’t get it, would they take a limb instead? As if I’d put the kids in danger. He should know me better.

I’d considered writing forty thousand on that check instead of thirty.

Fuck knows Lucian can afford it, the rich prick.

He’s made a decent living from being a hot shot surgeon in Boston, but most of the millions he has came from his parents dying.

Between what they had in assets and life insurance, he and three generations would be set for life .

He won’t miss the money, and I should have taken more just to prove a point—to prove that I can, that I wield the power here.

I wonder if I’m going to get a call when the check clears.

Or maybe he’ll be so angry that he’ll show up on my doorstep.

Or maybe he just won’t give a fuck because he knows it’s the least he can do.

Or maybe he doesn’t have the funds at all and it’ll bounce.

No, that won’t happen. I know him well enough to know he wouldn’t allow it.

Once that check clears, hopefully by the end of the week, I won’t have to worry about Lucian ever again. It’ll be done with him for good. The charity is over, and there is no more ten-year anniversary bullshit.

He and I are done. I took my retribution for the years of hurt. Now I can finally move on and let it all go.

Honestly, he’s probably back in Boston by now, so if he has something to say about the check, he’ll call and complain. There’s no way he’ll show up on my doorstep. What could he even do about it now? Yell at me a little? I’d love that. He’s never done it once in all the years I’ve known him.

I pull into the clubhouse parking lot and head inside. The energy level is through the damn roof, the tension so high I can feel it on my skin.

I fucking hate this place.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

“Had you been here first thing, you’d know,” Prez spits out .

I raise a brow. “I was delivering a check to the school,” I respond.

Morning’s are better for me. The day hasn’t gotten under my skin yet, and I can tolerate more, so I tend to be nicer.

“Which I told you not to fucking worry about,” he snaps back.

This guy is a prick. He’s going to earn himself a bullet through the eyes while he’s sleeping. One of us is gonna do it. Pretty sure my brother has thought about it. We can’t be the only two hoping for this asshole’s demise to the point we’re planning it ourselves.

“Take it fucking easy,” my brother warns as I step forward.

Gritting my teeth, I turn toward the rest of the guys who are sitting around the long table that separates the living room area from the kitchen.

Prez’s phone rings, he glances at it, frowns, then gets up from his seat.

“Someone catch him up.” He walks down the hall and a moment later, his door slams.

“You two need to take it easy with him,” Grizz says.

“Like fuck I do,” my brother and I say at the same time.

“Just tell me what is going on,” I add.

“The Iron Runners got over our side of the border last night. Made it all the way to the third row of defense.”

“Are they dead?” I ask .

“Of course they’re fucking dead,” Rhino says. “But now the guys over the border want us to put more people on our lines since we’re the ones who let them in.”

“Are we going to pull them out of our asses?” I bark.

“He wants us to find some recruits.” Rhino shrugs, leaning back in his chair.

“Recruits? For the club?” I ask.

“No,” Grizz says. “Just low key guys we can pay to watch the lines.”

I look around the room, at all the guys in this club. There are ten of us with Prez. Haven’t really been much bigger either. This chapter of HMMC is small. Always has been.

There have been a lot of changes since our fathers died and this new asshole has taken over. Not sure what he thinks he has to prove, but he’d be better off doing it somewhere else. It’s clear he doesn’t care about this club, so I can’t figure out what the hell he’s doing here.

This town is small, and the club was put together by our grandfathers to protect the townspeople because of the shit we get over having direct access into the border. Everyone wants a piece of it.

No, it isn’t legally our job to make sure people don’t get through, but we use the border to get products to sell.

Sure, it’s illegal shit, a little of this and a little of that, but it’s nothing terrible.

We don’t deal in drugs and we don’t deal in trafficking.

What we get from them is how we make our money; it’s how we survive out here .

Keeping the border guarded also keeps our town safe because we don’t need people sneaking in on our side either.

It’s both side’s responsibility to keep people out.

It’s part of the deal, and we work together to do it.

I can understand how us fucking up has pissed them off, but I don’t know where the hell we’re gonna get guys from.

“Where the fuck are we supposed to find them?” I ask. “This town doesn’t have shit for people.”

“Prez says he knows a guy in New York who may be able to hook us up, but we gotta pay them. And if we’re gonna pay—”

“We gotta do more runs to make up for it,” Kaison says with a sigh.

“It doesn’t work like that. We have a deal with them,” I argue. “We’re allowed so much product. If we want more, we need to renegotiate.”

“Yeah,” Rhino says. “Exactly.”

He doesn’t sound happy about any of this. Who the fuck would be? But I still feel like I’m missing something.

“So, what then?” I ask. Someone better tell me what the fuck is going on—and soon.

“Prez says we need to find a way to make big cash fast,” Grizz says.

“Meaning?” I push, knowing someone’s about to say something I don’t want to hear.

“Firearms,” my brother says.

“Fuck that,” I spit out. “We don’t do that. ”

“No, we don’t,” Grizz says. “But it’s not listed under the prohibited items in our deal either.”

“So, let me get this straight. We have to do more deals with them for shit we don’t deal in, just to make more money to pay people to watch our side of the border to make them happy? Wouldn’t it be cheaper and easier for them to put their own people on it?”

“They don’t wanna do that,” Rhino says. “Won’t say why, but they aren’t budging, according to Prez. This is what needs to happen, no other option.”

“Fuck what they want. What about what we want?”

Everyone stares at me. No one answers.

Fuck all of them.

My head is fucking killing me. I need a vacation. No, I need a whole new life.

After being filled in on what’s going on, Prez had me get on top of the financial shit.

Since it’s my job, I didn’t have a choice.

Besides, numbers usually make me feel better.

They’re simple and I know what to expect from them.

So I took everything I needed and locked myself away in one of the empty rooms and got busy figuring shit out while the rest of the guys fucked around.

Prez said he needed numbers before he can talk to his guy in New York.

He needs something to barter with so they can work out an agreement.

I don’t like bringing in people from the outside.

They don’t know our town, they don’t care about our town, and they’re probably pieces of shit who are gonna pull the wool over our eyes and make plans to get over the border.

They’ll find all our weaknesses. That’s what happens when you let people in.

You show them your vulnerabilities and they take advantage.

It’s a bad fucking idea. But I don’t have any say because I’m not in charge.

I remember how the club was run when I was younger.

Though, I wanted nothing to do with the club—something that had to do with my father loving it and nothing else—I appreciated the camaraderie.

I liked that they could figure shit out even when they seemed to hate each other some days.Yes, the occasional fist was thrown.

I saw guys pull knives on others. The guys had it out.

Shed some blood. But then they were getting a drink together and laughing about it.

It’s not like that now. That’s not how this club works.

Now, what Prez says goes. Sure, he pretends to take our thoughts into consideration but he doesn’t.

It’s all a show. I have no idea what the fuck his plan was coming in here the way he did, but I don’t think he has our best interest, as individuals or as a club, in mind.

He never should have been allowed to take the position just because he was the old Prez’s son.

That’s a stupid rule that we should abolish. All Coyote cares about is himself.

It’s almost like he’s trying to ruin the club to get back at his father.

Chisel loved the club and was the Prez for years.

He took care of the club. He was fair. He made sure the guys were taken care of.

He was rough around the edges, as were most of our fathers, and there was more violence, but they got shit done.

Coyote was never around when his father was alive, and only came in once his father died. It’s bullshit. But out of respect for Chisel we patched him in and gave him the title.

So far, he’s caused nothing but problems.

By the time I make it home, it’s late and I’m tired as fuck.

I go through my normal routine. Into the bathroom.

Shower. Clothes in the wash. Sweep and mop the floor.

The outside world does not belong in my house, so I make sure to get rid of it.

Once I settle in bed, my phone buzzes, and I see Jeremy’s name.

Not in the mood to deal with him, so I open the text to tell him that. Only, he isn’t asking me to hang out. Surprise.

Jeremy : Thanks for the other day. For finding my kid.

Me : No proble m

The text bubbles bounce for a while as he types something. He better not be drinking and getting all sappy and shit. The text that comes through isn’t what I’m expecting.

Jeremy : I think we should stop.

I have mixed feelings about that.

Yes, we probably should. But he’s an escape, and if there’s anything I need in this life, it’s an escape.

I won’t talk him into sticking around though.

It is the right thing to do. Though I can look the other way when it comes to my morals sometimes , I’m not the kind of person who will talk someone into doing something shitty.

And what he was doing was certainly shitty.

Me : I agree.

It takes a moment, but he sends another text.

Jeremy : It’s not you. I just feel bad, you know? I have a wife and kids. I should focus on them.

Me : Yes, you should.

Jeremy : I’m sorry.

I roll my eyes.

Me : No need. It was fun. Good luck with your marriage.

The dots bounce again but a text never comes through. If I were a betting man, I’d bet he’ll text me within three months. But betting is for idiots.