“They’re trying to preempt our involvement,” Fox said, more level-headed. “They have to have heard what went down in London with Symbiote: the Lean Dogs are no longer just yokels on bikes in the public eye. We’re capable, and smart, and ruthless. We attracted their attention first, I’m afraid.”
Ghost spent long moments massaging at his forehead; Carter felt his own tension headache building. “God. Okay. Let’s say all this is true, and not the wildest shit I ever heard. It’s obvious Cunningham is involved. But who else? There could be mayors and governors and department heads all over the country who are on the take. There’s no way to know.”
“Not unless we cut the head off the snake,” Fox said.
Ghost snorted. “Excuse me if the idea of taking on a massive, conjoined crime syndicate based in New York sounds like biting off a helluva lot more than we can chew.”
Fox shrugged.
Ghost stared into the middle distance, fingers drumming on the table edge. “Okay. Let’s start with what wecando. We expose Cunningham, and cut the head off our own little snake.”
Mercy grinned. “I’ll get the machete, boss.”
Thirty-Seven
Three o’clock saw Leah standing at the counter in the office kitchenette, trying to decide if she needed a latte, or just wanted one, when Gabe came bustling over.
“Oh my God.”
Isobel glanced up, in the process of heating water for tea. “What?”
“I turned the radio on, and well, listen.” He had his phone out, open to a radio app, and thumbed up the volume.
“…according to this same source, Mayor Cunningham was hoping to turn public opinion completely against the Lean Dogs MC, and, in his own words, force the Dogs to react – we can only guess with violence. But we’ll let you hear the mayor tell you himself.”
Leah recognized the voice of a local shock jock, Mad Mike, and then she recognized the mayor’s voice: slurred, sloppy, and unlike anything she’d heard on his TV and radio ads. “It’s all about getting trash like that to live up to their reputation. They’re violent, and stupid, and they sell drugs. Everyone knows it, but I had to remind them about it. Give ‘em a push, huh? So, yeah, we had the bags printed up, and I had someone I trusted do the actual distributing. Him and the Abacus liaison. He was young, and good-looking, and he had a real smooth way with the young people. What kid wouldn’t eat up that kinda attention? Boy or girl.”
“Shit,” Leah breathed.
“The mayor’s basically saying he sold drugs to kids and blamed it on the Lean Dogs,” Gabe said, stricken and delighted all at once. It was a harrowing, ugly thought – but the juiciest gossip since the last mayoral fuckup – that had been Mason’s father, and Ava had been the one in the crosshairs.
Leah felt a creeping sense of unwelcome déjà vu.”
“How is the station getting away with airing this?” she asked.
“They said they got it from an anonymous source who definitely wasn’t the cops. None of this would stand up in court, but it’s enough to make Cunningham look really,reallyshit.”
“I’ll say.”
“They have to go away,” the mayor continued. The audio had been edited, so she couldn’t hear who was asking him questions, only his responses. “For a buncha fucking criminals, they sure do like to play Robin Hood. If they ever found out what was going on in this country, they’d try to shut it down, and a lot of important people would end up broke or arrested.”
“Oh my God,” Isobel breathed. “Who do you think he’s talking about?”
“I don’t know,” Leah said, distractedly. Her attention had been caught onRobin Hood.
For all that they weren’t heroes – even if she loved its members and considered so many of them as her second family, she could be honest about that – the Dogsdidhold to certain codes and standards. They didn’t pick on the weak; didn’t countenance bullies. They weren’t exactly robbing from the rich and giving to the poor…but it struck her as an appropriate metaphor.
She felt a pulse of pride, and fought to keep from smiling to herself.
“What’s gonna happen?” Isobel asked, sounding worried. “Will the mayor have to resign?”
“If he’s lucky,” Leah said.
~*~
Pair a relatively intimate Southern college city with the digital age, and word spread like wildfire. Mad Mike, with his ears and lips full of piercings, his arms laced with intricate ink from Dog-favorite tattoo artist Ziggy, was all too happy to share the edited audio that Fox, Ian, and Tenny had gathered over lunch with Cunningham. Ratchet had a contact at the news station, someone in the social/gossip section, and the photos went there: were currently trending on Twitter, locally. A dozen bloggers and picked up the story from other sites, and were sharing links. Soundbites were all over.
“Ha. The four o’clock news is covering it right at the top of the hour,” Aidan reported, holding up his phone.
