Page 34 of Thug

Brisco and Keto were eyeing me like they wanted to fight. Surprised by their presence, but more so by their demeanor, I pushed myself away from the desk and alternated glances between the two men. “I don’t have any idea what you two pricks have planned, but if it’s anything other than a civil conversation, I suggest you turn around and beat feet.”

I suspected Brisco wanted to talk about Gray. He was convinced she was a spy for the Hells Angels, and that her father was going to organize an ambush based on information she provided. The suggestion was absurd.

Keto was the club’s resident meathead, and Brisco’s first choice for a partner when it came time to start a fight. The fact that the two of them were together suggested their motives were other than favorable. Keto claimed to be of Polynesian descent, at least partially. His family migrated to Hawaii prior to it becoming part of the United States, and then moved to the mainland a generation later. Although his family lived along the California coast, somehow, he came to rest in the Tucson area.

He wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer, but he was willing to stand up against any foe who presented themselves as a potential antagonist—or anyone that Brisco pointed a finger toward.

“There’s a big problem, Boss.” Brisco put his hands on his hips. “We need to fix it.”

“We, being you and me?” I asked. “Or we, being the three of us?”

Brisco looked at me like I’d asked him to solve an algebraic equation. “Huh?”

“There’s no ‘we’ in this deal, Brisco. I said I was going to talk to the Bandidos. I’ll either get it resolved, or it will become a concern. If the latter happens, you’ll be the first to know.” I glared at Keto. “Why the fuck are you here?”

“Brisco asked me.”

“He knows who she is,” Brisco warned.

“How the fuck can he know who she is?” I asked. “You sure as fuck don’t.”

“I do.” Brisco gestured toward the street. “Her showing up here tonight and spying on us during the meeting was the last straw.”

I coughed out a laugh. “Spying?”

“God damned right,” he said. “From across the street.”

I stood. “What do you suppose she hoped to gain from being over there? Was she listening to us with a parabolic device? Taking pictures with a telephoto lens? Getting plate numbers off our bikes? Drawing a detailed map of the complex? You’re out of your fucking mind, Brisco.”

He tapped the tip of his index finger against his temple. “I’m thinking with my big head.”

“It’s big, alright. Big, and full of rocks.” I walked around the edge of the desk and crossed my arms. I gave Keto a dismissive glance and then looked at Brisco. “You know one thing about her. One. Based on that one simple fact, you’re poised and ready to pounce.”

“It’s my job to be poised and ready to bounce.”

“Pounce, motherfucker, not bounce.” I shook my head. “It’s also your job to determine who needs pounced on and who doesn’t. Pouncing on the wrong person puts the club at a far greater risk than failing to eliminate a potential foe.”

“She’s bad news, Boss.”

“She brought me my wallet,” I argued. “She could have walked up here and interrupted our meeting. Being polite, she waited across the street for it to end.”

Brisco looked at me like he’d caught me in a lie. “How’d did she end up with your wallet.”

“I left it in her bar last night.”

He snapped his fingers and then pointed at me. “I knew you were going in there.”

I sat against the edge of my desk and exhaled a long breath. I looked at Keto. “When was the last time you got laid?”

He seemed confused.

“The last time you got laid, motherfucker,” I hissed. “When was it?”

“Fucked that gal from the Circle K on Wednesday, why?”

I looked at Brisco. “What about you?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Brisco snapped back. “When I get pussy is none of your—”