Page 12 of Unbound By You (The Viper’s MC #1)
SILAS
I t’s still too early in the day for much to be going on at the compound when I arrive.
Most of the brothers are likely at the shop, passed out, or the few of us who are slightly more respectable are out in the world working their mundane nine-to-five.
It doesn’t matter. I’m not looking to catch up and hang out.
I’m only here to see Pres and check in with Branson.
The crunch of something broken under my boots welcomes me into the dim, wide-open bar area.
The remnants of a wild night litters the floor.
Beer bottles are strewn around, and I can’t help but notice more than one pair of women’s underwear hanging from random objects throughout the place.
None of this is surprising. It’ll all be dealt with by the time shit starts popping off tonight.
Not that I’ll be joining, I’ve got something more important in mind.
A pair of booted feet dangle off the edge of the beat-up leather couch, blocking my path to the hall where the offices and rooms are.
Loud snores come from a passed-out body resembling a fucking chainsaw.
It's fitting since they belong to Chopper, who’s spread across the entire thing, his arm hanging awkwardly onto the floor.
Roughly shoving his feet, I push past, and he topples to the ground with a crashing thud that shakes the floor.
It doesn’t take him long to rebound to his feet, searching for the cause of his rude wake-up call.
“Late night?” I laugh, watching him huff in annoyance.
“Yeah. Where the fuck were you at?”
“That’s a long story, brother. Is Pres in?”
“How the fuck should I know? I was sleeping two seconds ago.”
“Man, you’re a bitchy motherfucker in the morning. A sweet hot cunt to wake up to helps. You should try it.”
“Fuck off, I got enough pussy last night. I don’t need one hanging around to deal with in the morning.”
Laughing and shaking my head, I leave him to his morning nicotine hit. My knuckles rap against the dark wooden door of the man I’m here to see.
“Yeah, come in.” His muffled invite filters through before I push it open.
He doesn’t look up from whatever’s got his attention on the computer in front of him.
Small glasses he rarely wears sit low on his nose as he hunts and pecks at the keyboard.
The old man tried to deny he needed the damn thing when Branson set it up a couple of years back, too worried someone would hack in and use his information against us.
But with Branson’s security on it, that’s not likely.
I throw myself down in the old, uncomfortable chair on the opposite side of his desk, and he finally looks up at the squelch of sticky leather.
“What’s up, kid?”
Pres isn’t my old man, but I found the club when I was just a dumb nineteen-year-old looking for trouble.
He took me under his wing and guided that endless, destructive energy into something useful—for the club, at least. It’s been years now, and I’ve seen men come and go, but I found my place within the brotherhood—one that suits my need to fight and cause pain to those who wrong us.
“I need a favor.”
His graying, bushy eyebrow lifts in question.
“There’s someone I want in with us, under our protection.”
“She family?” he asks.
“I didn’t say it was a she.”
Again, that same eyebrow lift is all I get.
“Yeah, okay. She’s not exactly family.”
“She Old Lady material?”
I let out a harsh bark of laughter. Harlow wearing property of gear wouldn’t happen in a million years. She’d likely cut my dick off if I presented her with the cut.
“I’ll take that as a no, then. You know the rules. We look out for what’s ours, but if there’s no connection. There’s nothing I can do.”
I knew that’d be the answer. I’ve been here long enough to know our laws front, back, and sideways. But I figured I’d try avoiding my next plan, though I can’t say it won’t make my dick hard when she finds out what I’ve done.
“And if she was? Family, I mean.”
“Then bring it up next time we’re in church. Whatever it is, I’m sure the boys will back you.”
I nod, contemplating if this situation is simply worth the risk and asking for forgiveness. I guess I’ll let that hang on whatever Branson has for me.
“That it?” he asks, eyes focused back on the computer screen I can’t see.
“Yeah, man. Thanks.”
Heading out of his office, I check my phone to see if Harlow’s reached out. After our little tit-for-tat texting, I’m not surprised when I don’t have anything from her. I wouldn’t put it past her to block me.
The staircase down to the basement level groans under my weight.
The dank smell of piss, mildew, and industrial strength cleaner—trying and failing to disinfect this place—assaults my nose.
The new guys get saddled with the shitty rooms down here.
We all had our turn. It’s part of earning your spot.
Branson's room is the last door on the left, and a deep bass thuds through the thin particle board. I don’t bother knocking to announce my arrival, knowing damn well he’s either passed out from last night's activities or busy with his system.
His head bobs to the music, and I wonder if he knows I’m here. That is until one of the three computer screens lights up with a video of my face staring back at me.
“Sup, Si,” he calls back to me, keeping his concentration in front of him. “Give me two seconds, and then I’ve got something for you.”
He shuffles something around on his screens and turns down the music before swiveling his chair to finally look at me. The kid’s in his early twenties, but he’s a certified tech genius. The club scored big when he rolled in with Pierce a couple of years back.
“So, what ya got for me?”
He digs through a stack of papers on the desk’s edge. “You’re not gonna like it. Apparently, Macon isn’t so much a thing of the past.”
“Yeah, figured as much since she gave me his name. But what’s the current connection?”
“He’s legally her stepdad.” He pauses, watching me intently, before continuing. “Her mom married the jackass a couple of years ago. I couldn’t wrap my head around why when I knew it was a huge issue between Lo and her mom.”
The crunch of my knuckles cracking breaks his attention. It’s the best I can do right now to keep my fist from slamming into something he’d likely miss. I nod to get him to continue.
“Turns out her mom’s sick. It took some serious digging since she’s receiving private care. But you know what they say, follow the money.”
“And the money comes back to Macon?” I finally add something to the conversation.
“And not only for Candice, Harlow’s mom.”
He explains, and it pisses me off. Even though Harlow and Lexi have been friends for longer than I can remember, I didn’t recall her mom's name. Then again, she spent most of those years hiding at my pop’s house, to the point that she should have just moved in.
It’s all becoming a little clearer as to why that was.
“He’s also paying Harlow.”
“Fuck. I figured money was involved, but assumed they’d do it with cash.” I huff in irritation. One more thing to worry about tying around my girl's neck if shit should unfold and the wrong people go digging into her business.
“I’ll be honest, the money doesn't look suspicious because of their legal, familial relation. It’s a couple thousand here and there. Looks like a caring dad, providing for his daughter.”
I let out a sigh of relief. That’s something, at least. “What about Macon, himself? Did you find anything on what he’s caught up in? What’s this guy even do?”
“That’s a great fucking question. He’s got a shell corp, but I can’t find any legit business dealings. He’s definitely into some shady shit. If the pile of bodies wasn’t enough to prove that this certainly does.”
“Any associates we know?” I ask, hoping there’s something I can finally use to my advantage.
“Nah, man. I scrubbed everything and didn’t find anything online. If you want that kind of information, you’ll have to get it the old-fashioned way.”
“Looks like it’s time to call Pierce in on this then. You wanna keep him company?”
“You mean babysit him so he doesn’t get into trouble.”
“That’s exactly what I mean. Oh, I need one last thing before you two head out.”
I lean over his desk and snag a random pencil and notepad before jotting down a few things. “I need that filed and backdated a few weeks. I’m sure you can get all the information needed to complete the forms.”
“Si, come on now.”
“She doesn’t need to know. It’s for her own good. Just get it done and let me know when you and Pierce have something on Macon.”
His foot connects with the small trash can beside his desk, letting me know just how much he likes going behind Harlow’s back to do this for me. It makes me like him even more.
I pat him on the shoulder and head out of his room. They better find me something good. I need to know what this guy’s mixed up with before I go in and show my hand.