Page 42 of Goose

“I’ve got one guy up north I can go talk to,” Baker said. “Might be able to do some good on a crematory.”

“Up north as in San Clemente, or up north as in Seattle?” I asked. “It needs to be a visit that’s done in person, not on a phone. If you’re riding to fucking Seattle, we’ll still be dicking around with this in a month.”

“Up north as in Oceanside,” he replied. “There’s a club up there that had a similar issue a while back. I’ll go talk their president.”

“Outside the club? Fuck that.” I raised a brow. “How do we know he can he be trusted?”

“He’s a former Navy SEAL, and he hates the government. I wouldn’t be talking to him if he couldn’t be trusted.”

Cash looked at Baker. “Crip?”

Baker nodded.

I alternated glances between Cash and Baker. “Who the fuck’s Crip?”

“President of the Filthy Fuckers MC,” Baker said.

I chuckled. “That doesn’t mean shit to me. Sounds like a rag-tag bunch of turds.”

“You wouldn’t say that if you met ‘em,” Baker said. “Brother Reno introduced me to him.”

“Well lah-tee-dah,” I said mockingly. “I say we reach a decision in our next meeting or before.”

“Motion?” Baker asked.

I rolled my eyes. “I make a motion we reach a decision by this time next week, if not sooner. I make another motion we declare this meeting dead.”

“Second,” Tito said. “This is making me nervous.”

“If no one’s opposed,” Baker said. “We’ll reach a decision on or before next Wednesday’s meeting.”

Baker pounded his fist against the coffee table. “This meeting’s adjourned.”

I stood. “Let’s hope this Crip fucker knows someone or something.”

Reno chuckled. “If anyone knows how to get rid of a dead body, it’ll be him. He’s left a pretty long trail of ‘em over the last few years.”

I had no idea who “Crip” was, but my experience told me if he’d talked about it to others, he was full of shit.

I glanced at what was left of my brotherhood and hoped, for once, that I was wrong.