Page 18 of Trip (Sons of Hell MC #11)
Trip
“It’s only a little scratch,” Gator groaned, storming into The Bourbon Bar with me hot on his heels.
“Little scratch my ass!” I shouted. “I’ve got teeth marks all around my arm. If I get rabies, I’m beating your ass!”
“Can’t get rabies from an alligator,” Worm muttered, walking past me as he plopped down into a chair. “There is, however, a whole slew of other diseases like—”
“Worm!” Gator growled, silencing the know-it-all brother.
“Poor little fella.” Thore walked by, holding and petting the varmint that tried to take my arm off as if it were a small puppy. “Did that mean man scare you? I’ll protect you, Norbert.”
“Boss!” Donut cried. “Thore named him!”
“NO!” Gator spun around, pointing his finger in Thore’s face. “You are not keeping it!”
“But, boss,” Thore whined. “He’s just a little fella. The bigger boys will pick on him.”
“It’s damn near the size of a boogie board!” I shouted.
“Exactly,” Thore quipped. “He’s a baby!”
Growling, Gator said nothing as he glared at the big guy.
Thore’s shoulders dropped. “Fine. I’ll call the game warden and have her pick him up. But I ain’t gonna be happy about it!” the man shouted, storming off.
“Now ya did it.” Romeo chuckled, slapping me on the back as he walked over to the bar. “Thore ain’t never gonna forgive you, Trip.”
“I don’t know why he went in after it anyway,” Tank said. “Aren’t they territorial?”
“Yes.” Worm nodded. “And even if Thore was to return the critter to his habitat, the gator would find another because Trip ruined his eco-system.”
“I didn’t ruin shit!” I shouted, pointing my finger at the two fuckers who dragged me out of my bed to go fucking fishing. “You two told me to stick my hand in the crevice. So it’s all your fault.”
Gator shrugged, leaning against the bar as Juju handed him a beer. “You picked the spot.”
“Sure did, cuz.” Romeo grinned, clinking his beer bottle against Gator’s. “We’re innocent.”
“Give it up, Trip. You won’t win this argument,” King said, slapping me on my back.
“Yeah, yeah,” I muttered, throwing my hands in the air in defeat. “It’s always my fault, isn’t it? Never mind that I’m the one with bite marks up and down my arm from playing bait.”
The room erupted in laughter, and even Gator cracked a grin, his sharp eyes softening for a moment.
“Bites on your arm or not, Trip, you’ve got to admit,” Juju said, setting a fresh beer bottle on the counter with a decisive clink.
“That was one hell of a show earlier. Thore cursing like a sailor, the baby gator snapping at everyone’s feet, and you running around like a headless chicken? Priceless.”
“Thanks for the support,” I shot back, grabbing the beer and taking a swig. “I’ll be sure to call you the next time a pissed-off reptile comes charging my way.”
Donut leaned against the wall, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Thing is, Trip, you’ve got a knack for creating memories. Whether it’s gators, fishing trips, or God knows what, you keep life interesting.”
“Somehow, I doubt that’s a compliment,” I muttered, shaking my head.
Romeo raised his bottle as if in toast, his grin as wide as ever. “To Trip, the one-man chaos machine!”
“Don’t encourage him,” King growled, though the corner of his mouth twitched in a suppressed smile. “We’ve got enough trouble without him adding more fuel to the fire.”
The laughter and banter continued, filling the bar with a sense of camaraderie that, despite their endless teasing, reminded me why I stuck around these idiots in the first place.
“Grab your beer and meet me and Gator downstairs. We need to talk,” King whispered.
Looking at him, I nodded. Grabbing my beer, I followed the two presidents into the Bourbon Kings’ inner sanctum, and I didn’t know what I was expecting, but it sure as hell wasn’t a shrine to every sport known to man.
The Bourbon Kings church was literally a man cave with posters, trophies, and signed memorabilia from every American sport, from baseball to hockey.
Hell, there was even some memorabilia from NASCAR.
Instead of a table and chairs, there were several recliners facing a very fucking large flat-screen television.
The Bourbon Kings left nothing out.
Looking around the room, I shook my head. “Do you guys take anything seriously?”
Gator grinned. “Just our love of sports,” the president of the Bourbon Kings said, plopping his ass down into one of the comfy recliners. “Grab a seat.”
Doing as the man said, King spoke first. “While you’ve been fucking off with the Bourbon Kings, I had a little talk with Ansel, and I gotta say, brother, I didn’t like what I learned.”
Sighing, I looked down at my beer and said, “I was right, wasn’t I? It’s Ansel.”
“No, Trip. It’s not Ansel.”
My head snapped up. “What?”
“His story lined up with yours. It wasn’t him, but I think he knows who it is. Only, after what happened to you, he’s not willing to lose another friend.”
“So he’s protecting the son of a bitch!”
“Not necessarily. I think he’s protecting himself and his bottom line.”
Groaning, I got up and started pacing. “It’s always been about the money with Ansel.”
“Can’t fault the man for that, Trip, when that’s all he knows. Ansel came from privilege. He’s not like us,” Gator offered, leaning forward in his chair. “Man’s never had to work for anything a day in his life.”
“So where does that leave C.C.? Because she’s not getting in that car if someone is determined to ruin Ansel.”
King’s jaw tightened. “C.C. is stronger than you give her credit for, but even she’s not invincible. If someone wanted to use her to ensure Ansel’s downfall, they’re on the right track. The question is, who’s got the motivation?”
Gator rested his elbows on his knees, his voice low but steady. “Could be someone trying to hit Ansel where it hurts. You go after his company and bankrupt him. Man won’t recover from that. But this... this feels personal.”
My pacing stuttered to a halt. “You’re saying it’s not just about the money. It’s about revenge.”
Gator nodded grimly. “And that makes this more dangerous. Whoever’s behind this, they’re playing the long game. They’ve got patience, and they’ve got resources. We need to figure out what they know and what their endgame is before my cousin becomes collateral damage.”
“Which is why I think we need to shift the narrative,” King stated.
“How?” I asked.
King looked at me and smiled. “We pack up and take this shit home with us.”
Shaking my head, I said, “We can’t do that. The second I mention it, C.C. will lose her shit. She already suspects that I’m here to take her spot. We move the operation back to Rosewood, and that will confirm her fears.”
“Do you want back in the game?” King plainly asked.
“I’d be lying if I said no, Prez,” I admitted. “But I don’t have the drive for it anymore. I like my life as it is now. Do I miss the adrenaline rush, the competitive nature, the cars? Hell yes, I do. But not enough to sit behind the wheel again.”
King’s gaze hardened as he leaned forward, his elbows resting on the worn surface of the table. “Then maybe it’s time to make some noise. Shake things up enough that whoever’s pulling the strings starts making mistakes.”
Gator snorted, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. “You want to draw them out by waving a red flag? Bold move, but risky as hell.”
I crossed my arms, my mind racing. “Risky doesn’t even cover it. If we don’t calculate every step, we’re putting everyone in the crosshairs—including C.C.”
King shrugged, unbothered by the weight of his suggestion. “The way I see it, we’re already in the line of fire. Might as well take control of the narrative instead of sitting here playing defense.”
Gator shifted uneasily, his fingers drumming on his knee. “You’re talking chess moves, but we’re dealing with someone who’s been playing this game longer than we have. If they’re after revenge, they’ll be ruthless. We can’t underestimate them.”
I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. “And what happens when their patience runs out? If we go in guns blazing, we need to know their weak spots first.”
King’s voice softened, almost conspiratorial. “That’s where you come in. You’ve got the instincts, the history. You know how to read people and situations better than most. Take stock of your doubts—what would make C.C. crack under pressure, and what’s keeping her standing? That’s where we start.”
Gator’s gaze met mine, steady and firm. “We don’t have to put her at risk. If we play smart, keep her safe, we can still guide the outcome.”
The silence stretched, thick with unspoken tension, before I nodded reluctantly. “Fine. But if we’re going down this road, we’re doing it my way. No surprises.”
King grinned, his confidence radiating. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”