The Boy I Grew Up With
Page 70

“You look like your father,” Maxwell said as a greeting. He ignored Traverse, inspecting me as I did the same with him.
Traverse’s scream faltered. “What?”
I motioned to him. “You can take him. I shot his weapon out, and I shot to injure him. We did have someone look at him, and he was fed, given water, and had a bed to sleep in until we could meet. He wasn’t tortured.”
Maxwell hesitated, then held up a hand.
Three of the guys who had moved forward came the rest of the way. They grabbed Traverse and half dragged-half walked him back to their motorcycles. As he passed the last man still standing back, Traverse jerked in their arms.
“What—Connelly?”
Connelly didn’t respond.
“Wait a minute.” Traverse started to struggle, trying to get free of their hold. “Connelly, what are you doing? What’s going on here?”
Maxwell nodded at Connelly, who turned to Traverse and said, “You weren’t supposed to kill Dex. I know that’s what you had planned when you went. It’s why I didn’t go. That wasn’t what we agreed on. Double-crossing Monroe’s crew wasn’t part of the deal either.” He motioned to me. “He’s connected. You forgot.”
“What? The crews? They’re nothing. Half are high school kids.”
“No.” Maxwell’s voice was loud, booming over the entire parking lot. But he wasn’t yelling. He was just authoritative. He had charisma, and he didn’t need to do anything other than speak.
Traverse quieted. Connelly too.
“He has roots you don’t even know about,” Maxwell continued. “You were foolish, Traverse. You got ahead of yourself, thinking you could out-con us, expecting us not to do our homework.” He gestured to his men. “Take him away. We’ll deal with him later.”
Connelly came forward, pausing at Maxwell’s side. He inclined his head briefly to me. “I didn’t agree with what Traverse was going to do, and I’m sorry for my part. We’ll make it right.”
Well. Shit. I hadn’t been expecting any of this.
Connelly followed the rest, helping them put Traverse in the back of their one truck. Three guys jumped in with him, and Connelly got in on the passenger side. The truck pulled out, driving past my men.
Maxwell took out a toothpick and popped it into his mouth. He began to chew on it, moving it around over his teeth. When he put that toothpick in his mouth, I got a different glimpse of him. He wanted to look laid-back, almost carefree, but I saw his intelligence. His eyes were sharp.
If I hadn’t known his reputation, I would’ve caught on anyway.
“Your father said you’re one of the smartest guys he knows,” Maxwell said. “Coming from him, that’s high praise.”
I laughed, wincing too. “You sound like you know him well.”
“I do. He was my cellmate for a year. I never thought I’d hear from your pop again, not unless I got put back in. Imagine my surprise when he called me this morning.”
“Yeah.”
I hated to do it, but getting in touch with Maxwell Raith couldn’t be done through the front door. He wasn’t that type of guy. I’d needed a back way in.
“To be fair, I think I gave my dad a heart attack when I called him.”
“Yep. Yep.” Maxwell nodded. “He told me about you. Said things aren’t too great between the two of you.”
I jerked up a shoulder. “Yeah, well. Maybe they’ll get better after this.”
“You have a sister too? Younger than you?”
I narrowed my eyes. What’d he know about Bren? “Yeah.” He didn’t need to know anything else.
He laughed. “Relax. That wasn’t a veiled threat. Your old man saved my life in prison. And just so we’re clear, I don’t consider that debt paid here.” He motioned to where the truck had gone. “Connelly already rode out, told us what Traverse was going to do. We’re not a charter that wants enemies in Roussou. The entire club has steered clear of your town for a reason. We know the system you have in place—have had in place for years now. Richter was moving in on his own. He was an ambitious piece of shit. Traverse was doing us a favor by moving in on him. But he didn’t know he wouldn’t have gotten permission for moving in on you.”
“So, if this isn’t a debt for my dad, why are you doing this?”
“Well, that’s for us to know. Not you. It’s club business.”
Fuck that. “Then how am I supposed to know another young punk won’t get in his head to ‘get ambitious’?”
He stared at me, weighing my words.
Here we were. Two leaders. Two armies behind us. In the grand scheme of things, his men would win. He knew it. I knew it. He had other charters to call on for backup. I had my men and maybe fifty crew members, half of which—Traverse was right. They were young. My job here was to protect them. No more blood needed to be shed, but Roussou was a prize. If Richter and Traverse had wanted to control it, why not someone else? And if that was a battle down the road, what moves should we start making now to protect ourselves?
His eyes narrowed, studying me.
He bobbed his head a bit. “Okay.” He took out his toothpick and flicked it to the ground. A second one came out of his pocket, and he popped that in instead. “Your town’s too close to Fallen Crest. They got too many corporations there, businesses, empires. We don’t want attention brought on us, and where there’s rich folk, there’s cops. They like to enforce their own kind, and that ain’t us. Roussou’s too close. We like moving our product through Frisco, through Callyspo. We like staying to the back roads where we might take down a truck, but not enough to bring too much heat on us. That’s why we steer clear of Roussou. Your town is the boundary for us. We go around you guys.”
It made sense, in a way.
“Thank you for that.”
“There’s another thing.” He took out that second toothpick, but he only held it. “Your dad offered something else. We took him up on it, which is another reason I don’t consider this transaction as a debt paid off.” He began to scratch near his mouth, using the back of his thumbnail. “Your pops didn’t want me to say anything, but I figured maybe you should know. I’d want my own to know.”
I knew. I knew before he said the words. There was no rhyme or reason. There was nothing building up to it, but I knew because it only made sense.
“Your dad joined up. He’s an older member. We don’t usually take ’em that age, but he’s a good fighter. He can hold his own. He’s one of our point guys in prison.” He tilted his head, measuring me, waiting to see my response. “How you feel about that?”
What’d I say here?
My dad would be protected, but he’d get out. He still had forty years to live when he got out, and what then? Well, now I knew. He’d leave. He’d be with the Red Demons.
He’d be out of Bren’s life.
“It’s a smart move, for you guys and him.”
“That it?” He narrowed his eyes.
“Yeah. That’s it. We’re all good then?”
He pursed his lips, still gauging me, and then he sighed and held out his hand. “We’re good.”
“No more Red Demons in Roussou? Traverse won’t be a problem?”
That got a shallow laugh from him. “You won’t be hearing from Traverse again. Connelly will be my spokesman from now on, and he’ll be based out of Frisco. If we have to do business again, you can go through him or your pops.”