Old Lady (Iron Disciples Book 2) (8 page)

“I don’t know… I’m starting to feel like a mushroom.”

“Kept in the dark and fed bullshit? Is it that bad?” She
asks me.

“I just have this feeling that Cade is up to something
big that most of the club isn’t privy to; if you know what I mean.”

“Shit, that’s not good. You sure about this?”

“Yeah I think so…Have you heard of Juarez…as in the
Cartel?”

“What? I don’t think there’s such a thing.”

“Yeah…I’m pretty sure there is, but I’d rather tell you
in person. Can you pick me up? We can do a late breakfast or something and I’ll
fill you in.”

“Sure. Where are you now?”

“I’m at Cade’s dad’s house. 1250 Crockett Lane.”

“Is Cade there?” She asks.

“He’s here, but that’s not a problem. I’ll just tell him
I need some me time with you. He won’t ask questions.”

“Fine… I’ll see you in about 30 minutes.” Stacy says.

“Cool, I’ll meet you out front.”

“Okay.”

Twenty minutes later when I head for the front door Cade
is nowhere to be seen, apparently still in his meeting or whatever he calls it
so I just open the door and walk out. I sit out on the curb for another ten minutes
before I see a black SUV pull up to the cub. The window rolls down and Stacy
sticks her head out and yells.

“Hop in girlfriend.”

The passenger door opens and I clamber in. It’s so much
better having a walking cast on, but I’m still clumsy as hell. The first thing
I notice is Shooter is at the wheel. I didn’t know he would be joining us. I
glance at him meaningfully and Stacy shoots me an apologetic look like she
couldn’t help it or something.

“How you doing?” Shooter asks.

“Good.”

“I understand you got some information for me.” He says.

“Yeah… but can we go somewhere that we can eat a late
breakfast. I’m starving.”

Ten minutes later we’re pulling into the Black Bear
Diner. Never been here before but it looks pretty busy so I guess its fine.
Shooter however looks out of place being head to toe in black with his cut and
steel toe motorcycle boots. Most of the patrons here seem to be at or nearing
retirement age. I’m guessing he picked the spot because no other
self-respecting biker would be caught dead eating in here. We get a lot of
stares as we walk in and take a corner table in the back. Like a true warrior
Shooter positions himself so he can see all the doors and exits in the
building. A doe eyed waitress hands us menus and retreats a safe distance but
keeps an eye on our table. I’m guessing she doesn’t want to give Shooter any
reason to notice her for all the wrong reasons. The second we’ve decided on our
orders she shows up instantly. I could get used to this kind of service.

“So what is so important that we have to meet in person
and away from everyone else?” Shooter asks me.

The way he’s looking at me right now does not make me
feel good. All the small talk has been set aside and now he’s all business.
Even Stacy is wearing a serious look on her usually cheerful face. My heart is
pounding in my chest and abruptly I realize something. I’m ratting on my man.
I’m a rat. Holy fuck, is that what I’m doing now? I didn’t even think about it.
I am going behind Cade’s back and telling on him. I’m a fucking rat! Shit!

Finally Stacy breaks the silence. “It’s okay Morgan.
You’re not betraying the club and you’re not turning against Cade. You’re
protecting everyone. You should receive a medal or something.”

I’m a saleswoman. I know when I’m being
sold
a
pile of shit and when
I’m
selling the pile of shit. Stacy is giving me
the hard sell on a bag of dog shit and trying to make me feel good about it. I
really should have thought this through. I don’t know if I’m gonna be able to
get out of here without spilling my guts, especially if Stacy is going to side
with  Shooter and I’m pretty sure she is. This time it’s Shooter who breaks the
silence.

“Come on Morgan, you can’t drag us all the way out here
and just clam up. Why are you talking about the Juarez Cartel Morgan?”

Dammit, I fucking knew I shouldn’t have let that slip.
Now I have to tell him everything I heard. Shit!

“Morgan…” Shooter breathes my name and it sounds freaking
scary the way he says it.

“Cade had a secret meeting with the Outkasts and the
Latin Kings and the Juarez Cartel yesterday and I think he’s set up some kind
of drug running and gun running deal with the Cartel.”

“What?” Shooter stands up abruptly. His blue eyes flash
in anger.

“I don’t know much. I-”

“Tell me exactly what you heard Morgan. I need to know
everything.”

I open my mouth again and it just comes spilling out. Shooter
sits back down and listens without interrupting again.

“Look you guys,” I finish. “You can’t tell Cade it was me
who told you. He’ll fucking kill me.” I’m pleading now. The reality of what
I’ve just done and said is sinking in like a fucking ton of bricks in
quicksand. Have I just ruined everything? I can tell just by looking at Shooter
that he’s fucking pissed. I’m getting this awful feeling that he’s not even
gonna care and he’ll tell Cade it was me if it serves his purpose and Cade…
he’ll kill me if it serves
his
purpose.

“Hey no sweat.” He finally says. “I’ll just say someone
drove by and saw the meet and told me.”

I nod. That sounds pretty thin and I seriously doubt Cade
is gonna buy it, but he would never suspect the information came from me; not
in a million years. My mind is going a thousand miles an hour now. On the other
hand, maybe I should go back and tell Cade what I just did so he can be ready
for the fallout. I’ll spill my guts, manufacture some tears and beg for my
life. At least he won’t totally be blindsided by the news. Yeah…it’ll be better
if he hears it from me first.

“Morgan…earth to Morgan.”

I look up and Stacy is looking at me sympathetically.

“You did the right thing.” She says. “Cade can’t be going
behind the club’s back and making deals with the enemy. That shit will get him kil…voted
out in a heartbeat.”

“What? No fucking way.” I can’t believe this. What the
fuck have I done now?

I look at Shooter. He’s studying me with a blank expression.
I can’t believe that not long ago I was partying with these guys and now I get
the feeling that he’d like to beat my head in. He’s glad I told him about Cade,
but at the same time he hates rats and that’s what I just became; a rat.

“What are you going to do Shooter?” I ask.

“I don’t know yet. I’m going to have to see if I can find
out from my own sources what he’s up to first. Sorry but I can’t just put all
this shit in motion on the word of an old lady; even if the old lady is the ex-president’s
old lady.

Well that’s a good start. That should also buy me some
time. Maybe there’s another solution here that I haven’t seen yet. There must
be something. I really don’t feel like eating so I just excuse myself.

“You guys eat.” I drop a pair of twenties on the table.
“It’s on me. It’s the least I can do for dragging you out of the house. I’ll
catch a cab.”

“No,” Stacy protests. “We can take you.”

“It’s okay Stacy. Besides, I need to do some thinking by
myself so I’ll probably just go to a park or something and do some walking. I
really need to be by myself.”

“You’ll call me if you need me right?” Stacy asks.

“Of course.” I reply as I walk out.

It’s kinda weird thinking of Stacy as a friend now and
not just a co-worker...or a subordinate, which she is at work. Because of what
we have been through the last week or ten days has turned whatever we had into
a nice friendship. I wonder if the coming mess will ruin our friendship though.
If I’m branded as a rat and traitor I surely won’t be Cade’s old lady anymore
and I won’t have access to the Disciples clubhouse. Shooter will almost
certainly forbid Stacy from having any contact with me which will make the
issue of work a really sticky situation. I may have just ruined everything that
is halfway good in my life. I never should have told Shooter. I’m such an
idiot. I should have either kept the info to myself or made an anonymous phone
call or something, anything to keep my name out of this.

I need to find out what Cade’s next move is. Maybe he is
planning on telling everyone and Shooter won’t have to do anything. I should
talk to Cade. Maybe there’s a bylaw that says that in certain situations the
President…the ex-president can act without a club vote. Surely that is part of
their laws or code or something. Cade wouldn’t break the rules.

I spend the better part of the afternoon at a large park
that cuts a swath through the town. There are numerous hiking trails, picnic
tables, places to feed the water fowl, and even rowing on the manmade lake. I
decide a little physical exercise is in order and I rent a row boat for two
hours. Twenty minutes out onto the lake and the tops of my back muscles are
burning. Who’d have thought a little rowing could be such good exercise? By the
time I get back to the dock I’ve run 20 minutes past my time. I was just too
far out when I realized I should be heading back and could not make it in time.
My cast is part of the problem. I just couldn’t get in a comfortable position
to row. Being late cost me another twenty-five dollars. My cell phone rang
twice out there on the water but I just didn’t feel like answering. After I pay
for the boat time I check my phone and discover that Cade called me both times,
but didn’t leave a message. Yeah we finally gave out our numbers but so far I
have yet to answer when he calls. I just don’t like being tied to my phone.
He’ll have to get use to that. I spend so much time at work on the phone I
don’t like to spend a lot of time on it on my off hours.

While the physical exercise on the lake was just what I
needed, I still didn’t arrive at any conclusions about what I should do in
terms of telling Cade what I did. It takes me about forty minutes to get to his
house. By the time I arrive I have decided to tell him and take my chances.
Problem is, the moment the door opens and I see him; all bets are off.

The moment he opens the door my resolve dissolves. He’s
standing there in his cut with his usual black jeans and biker boots and just
looks far too edible to be arguing with. A better time to tell him would be in
the afterglow of great sex. He'd be much less likely to shiv me right there in
bed with him.

“You know,” He begins after an impromptu make out
session. “You don’t have to knock when you’re staying here.”

“Sorry, old habits die hard.”

“So I called you…twice.”

“Sorry, I was exercising and couldn’t get to my phone.”

“You get in a good workout?” He asks.

“Can you not see the layer of sweat?” I ask.

“Hmmf…musta dried up.”

“You wanna see something that hasn’t dried up?” I ask
mischievously.

“Sorry, not into sweaty clams.”

“What the hell?” I pretend outrage. “No one has ever
called my gate to paradise a clam, and especially not a sweaty one. You keep
that talk up and you’ll be yanking on your sausage until it shrivels up to no
bigger than a peanut.”

Abruptly Cade scoops me up into his arms and carries down
the hall, ostensibly towards his bedroom.

“Shouldn’t you be taking me to the showers?” I ask as we
pass the bathroom.

“There’s an old barrel of rainwater out back, I thought
I’d just dunk you in and air dry you.”

“You’re a true romantic Cade.”

“I try…”

Moments later we’re in his bathroom while he fiddles with
the water faucet. While his back is turned I begin to peel off my clothes. When
he offered to take me shopping after my clothes were destroyed in the clubhouse
attack I don’t think he anticipated my refined taste in clothing. The only
thing he wears that cost more than twenty dollars is his boots. Even my
triangle bra by Naory alone set me back about $125. I seriously doubt anything
on his body costs more than that. I’m sure as hell not gonna let him take it
off either or the only thing it’ll fit will be the wastebasket.