Page 4 of Sac-rifice (RBMC: Cleveland, Ohio Chapter #7)
WTH TIME WARP
SAC
“O kay, so let me get this straight. Not only are we buying more guns, fuckstick is being trusted to store them again?” Wiley asked, licking his lips and slowly shaking his head in disbelief.
“I know exactly where you can stuff that stick, Wiley,” Sleeper grouched, eyeing him from across our table.
“You have anything better? We’re all fucking ears. McFaye is watching my place, and I’d lay money down that she has triple bugged yours.” Ghoul pointed his beer in Wiley’s direction. “Tin’s place would work, but his kid is a nosey little shit.”
Tin Man’s head jerked back, his mouth opened with shock, and then, he shrugged. “He is a nosey shit. You’re right. Plus, if my baby momma got wind of it, she’d push for full-custody, and I’d have to kill her.”
“Right. So your place is a no go,” I said, thinking out loud.
“Hear me out.” I lifted my palm in warning, trying to ward off their judgement from coming.
“We have a shed at Gran’s place in the woods, and there’s nothing but more acres of woods around it.
No neighbors or prying eyes.” It was a risky plan, stashing the guns at Gran’s, but any idea had to be better than the shit that went down when Sleep was in charge of keeping our guns safe.
The only good that came from that was Sleep’s ol’ lady, Vera.
The two of us didn’t always see eye-to-eye, given I threatened her life and all, but most of my brothers had done that, too.
I didn’t have proof, but I suspected Sleeper was behind her still holding a grudge against me.
There was no telling what kind of bullshit he whispered in her ear about me.
“That’s not a horrible idea.” Spider nodded, adding his opinion.
“Now, I know it’s not armed…” I started, stopping midsentence when I realized Spider wasn’t shooting down my suggestion. “Wait. It isn’t?”
“Yeah, it isn’t? How is it not?” Sledgehammer arched an eyebrow and ran his thick hand over his bald head.
We all looked down the table in Ghoul’s direction, waiting for him to speak. His bottom lip pushed forward, and he’d cocked his head to the side. “What are you thinking Spider?”
Our Prez was the kind of guy who swung first and then might listen to reason after people were bleeding or dead.
With Spider, though, he was different. Spider was the club’s President before he stepped down and handed the club over to Ghoul.
All of us had seen a lot of heavy shit since back in the day when I was a prospect underneath Ghoul and Spider.
Ghoul respected Spider. When he talked, Ghoul listened.
“It’s either Sac’s grandma’s house, or we could always ride up to Hadley’s. Between her and that little shit who shot you with his BB gun, I think we could find a place.” Spider coughed out a laugh, a smile remaining on his lips.
“That fucking little shit never did replace my Cuban,” Ghoul said, reaching into his cut and pulling out a cigar. He twirled it in front of his face between his thumb and pointer finger a few times before popping it between his lips.
“That little shit is one of our brothers now, and he’s not so little anymore,” I reminded him in a casual tone.
“Exactly.” Spider glared at me in disapproval.
“If we’re headed to PA, count me the fuck out.
There’s no way I’m going up there and chancing a ride back home with the words ‘Steelers Rule’ on my socks ever again!
” Sledge’s hand smacked the table. “I bet Aunt Hadley would be a Brown’s fan like me if she lived down here.
She’s a smart lady and has damn good taste. ”
“I don’t give a rat’s ass about your socks, Sledge,” Ghoul pointed out.
“Clearly. You let me wear those shits all the way home.”
“Better than shitting all the way home.” Ghoul shrugged, smirking.
“Yeah, I would love to sit around talking about shit all day, but we need to handle this.” Wiley tapped his finger on the edge of the table.
We all had our titles and positions within the club—a hierarchy—and with each title came different responsibilities the member had to take care of.
Wiley, being the anal-retentive person he was, was an excellent Sargent-At-Arms when it came to keeping order.
Regardless of what job the patch on our cut said we held, we all did two things: picked up the slack for our brothers, and if anyone fucked with our brothers, we fucking gutted them.
“Wiley, as much as I appreciate ya, brother, kindly fuck off,” Ghoul said without a hint of humor to his tone, his face almost expressionless.
“Boss, I…” Wiley pressed his lips together, hesitating before finishing his sentence.
“You what?” Ghoul questioned him.
Wiley silently shook his head in reply.
My legs bounced beneath the table as I watched the two of them in a silent stare down. The first to break eye contact would be the loser. My money was on Wiley cracking before Ghoul. Wiley was a mean son of a bitch, but Ghoul was both determined and demented.
Ghoul scooped up the lighter that was sitting on the table in front of him, flicked the striker, and pushed the button down with his thumb. He puffed on his cigar as a huge cloud of gray smoke erupted from around a singular deep laugh. “I’m just fucking with you, brother. Relax. Would ya?”
Wiley crossed his arms over his body. “Of course, you are, boss.”
“This is a temporary fix. It’s just a Band-Aid until we find a better place. Something more permanent, right?” Sledghammer asked in a tone slightly higher than his normal pitch.
“It’s not forever; it’s just for right now,” Ghoul agreed. “’Course, we could always hide them at Lina’s place in a pinch.”
Sledge choked on air and coughed. “Because that went so well the first time.” My brother smacked his chest and cleared his throat.
He had a point; the last time guns passed through his ol’ lady’s place, it ended in a shootout.
The big difference in that equation was they weren’t our guns.
If we had to use her place as a front, we would, but Lina could be about as violent as any one of my brothers if she needed to be.
Using her shop came with risks, and they were big ones.
Lina’s family was somehow tied in with the Bratva.
She wasn’t directly a part of all that, but that meant she wasn’t untouchable to them.
One day, the Russian Mafia was bound to retaliate, and Lina’s front door would probably be the first place they came looking for vengeance.
“So, Sac’s grandma’s it is, then?” Sledge’s hands ran over his bald head, and then he blew out a deep breath. He didn’t think this was a solid plan—that much he’d made clear. Truthfully, I doubted if any of us were fully onboard with it.
“Aye.” Ghoul nodded.
“The where is covered, but what about the how? As in how are we getting them past border patrol and then to where we need them?” I asked, racking my brain for possible routes, already planning to scout out the locations if need be.
“Captain Pink has someone on his payroll; they’re going to look the other way when our shit reaches their checkpoint.
They’ll get where we need them to,” Ghoul said, reassuring me.
I might have been the one to physically ask the questions, but it was information we all wanted and needed to know.
Moving anything illegal into the country wasn’t possible if the wrong person got wind of it.
“Where would that be exactly?” Sledge eyed our Prez, but Ghoul let Spider do the talking.
Spider tapped the table with the tip of his finger. “Monty Cat,” he confidently said the name of the last person on earth we should trust with something this big.
“Monty Cat?” Sledge, Tin Man, Sleeper, and I all loudly asked in unison.
“Yeah. He doesn’t know it yet, but he’s about to earn his keep,” Ghoul stated, staring past all of us.
“Fucking fabulous.” My legs jumped up and down under the table faster than before, and I pinched the bridge of my nose.
We all trusted our Prez to make the right decisions, but involving that weasel of a man was a horrible idea.
We had bounced from being in bed with the FEDS under Agent McFaye’s thumb, barely landing on our feet, and then stumbled onto a mound of shit where Monty lived.
I wanted to believe everything would be okay, but there was a sickening feeling swimming in my stomach over this.
Judging by the bleak look on most of my brothers’ faces, they didn’t trust this plan any more than I did.