A Biker’s Tiny Present (Rebel Vipers MC Christmas Standalone)

CHAPTER TEN

TINY

After introducing Riley and Nicky to a whole pack of Old Ladies in the clubhouse common room, I head for Whiskey’s office. Duchess, my club President’s wife and Old Lady, assured me she’d get them settled into my bedroom upstairs if and when Riley was ready for a break. Before I even made it to the hallway leading to the office, questions were being tossed back and forth, the other ladies wondering about Riley, and her asking them about the club, so I knew they would be okay without me for a bit.

I’m in Whiskey’s office with Steel, the club’s Vice-President, Ring, one of our Enforcers, Cypher, our tech whiz-kid, and Hammer, Sergeant-at-Arms.

Cypher has been digging into this mystery strip club that none of us had heard about until yesterday, and its owner. He’s been trying to figure out what kind of trouble we’re looking at so we don’t go into a situation blind and someone gets hurt. I’m also hoping he can find Taylor in the process of digging through the dirt of her employer.

“Leo Castelucci,” I grunt out the scumbag’s name as I drop onto the couch next to Hammer. “Cypher, tell me what you’ve found out and why we’ve never heard of this asshole before.”

“Oh, I’ve found plenty, but none of it’s good.”

“Turns out that’s not even his real name,” Whiskey adds, tossing a rubber band ball into the air and catching it.

“Then who the fuck is he?”

“Meet Franco Vancini.” Cypher spins his laptop around to show everyone in the room what the shit-stain looks like. “Fifty-seven years old. Formerly of Oklahoma City, Oklahoma. He’s got a rap sheet a mile long and has seven warrants out for arrest in three different states. Seems his modus operandi is to only stay in one place long enough to cause havoc, then once the shit starts stirring, he moves on to his next target. Longest he’s been anywhere is three years in Texarkana, shortest is three months in Black Ridge, Minnesota.”

“Isn’t that where Torch has his chapter of the Saint’s Outlaws MC?” Steel asks as he leans back in his chair, stretches his legs out in front of himself, and crosses his boots at the ankles.

“It is,” I reply the affirmative. “Maybe we ought to give him a call and see what kind of trouble the douche-nozzle was up to in their neck of the woods.”

Whiskey is already tapping on his phone. “On it.”

Three rings echo around the room, then a “Hello?” A deep voice comes through the speakerphone, amongst the recognizable sound of an air impact wrench in the background. “Hold on.” There is a few more seconds of the noise, then silence as a door slams. “Whiskey, is that you?”

“Hey, Torch. Long time no see.”

“No kidding, man. How are things out east?”

We all chuckle at his attempt to be funny. Torch, the President of the Saint’s Outlaw MC: Black Ridge Chapter has their clubhouse a short drive south of Minneapolis. It’s only three hours west of us, just across the Minnesota state line. I think it’s been about five years since any of us were in the same place at the same time, other than our respective yearly rides to Sturgis, but that doesn’t mean we’re strangers. We don’t cross paths often, but being relatively close keeps us in each other’s extended radar.

“We’re gearin’ up for one hell of a biker wedding here on Christmas Eve,” Whiskey replies.

“No shit. Who’s tyin’ the knot?”

“I got me an Old Lady and a baby. Ring and Steel both locked down my sister, Hammer is about to become my brother-in-law ‘cause he’s got two kiddos and finally claimed my lady’s sister, and Buzz’s Old Lady has a bun in the oven. That makes four brides and five grooms.”

“Holy fuck, man.” Torch lets out a sharp whistle. “What is in your water? You guys are reproducing faster than a herd of fuckin’ rabbits.”

“We’re apparently like a set of dominos,” Ring chimes in. “Whiskey fell first and we all just toppled down right behind him.”

“No kiddin’. But seriously, congrats guys. Now if only we could find some badass chicks around here like y’all have there.”

“Thanks, man. But while I wish this was just a social call, we’ve got a problem and need to see if you’ve got any insight on who we’re tryin’ to find.” Whiskey turns the conversation back to business and we all kick back and wait for some good news—hopefully.

“Who was stupid and pissed off the Vipers this time?”

“That would be my baby momma’s boss.”

“Shit. Tiny, is that you?”

“You betcha.”

“I’d recognize your grouchy voice anywhere.”

“Right back atchya.”

“Who ya lookin’ for?”

“The name we have is Leo Castelucci, but based on Cypher’s super sleuthing skills, we know it’s just an alias.”

“Legal name is Franco Vancini, but he went by Tomas Rossi when he was round your parts four years ago.” Cypher adds the other information he was able to find about the sleazeball. “We were wondering if your club had any run-ins with him?”

“I remember Tomas Rossi. Guy was a fuckin’ piece of work. He tried to buy the building next to our clubhouse and got all pissy when we outbid him fair and square. We ran his ass out of town after we caught him trying to burn it down and haven’t seen him since.”

“What a fuckin’ ninnyhammer.” The room goes quiet as all eyes swivel to look at me. “What? Gran used to call anyone who was a moron a ninnyhammer. Can’t help that it stuck.”

Everyone’s shoulders are bouncing as they try to hold in their laughter. My Brothers know it’s in their best interests not to say anything inappropriate or jokingly about my Gran. She may be gone, but she was my absolute favorite person in the whole damn world and I won’t take any shit about her from anyone.

“Anyway,” Torch’s voice draws everyone’s attention back to the phone, “What kind of trouble is he causin’ there?”

“Tiny just found out he’s got a kid, but now the mom is missing and we found out she was working for Leo or Franco or whoever the hell he is. We need to find him to hopefully find her.” Cypher is talking and typing at the same time. If I could multi-task even at a quarter of his speed, my workdays would be so much shorter. “But based on everything I’m finding about his past, we’re liking him less and less.”

“I wish I had more for you guys, but he was just a blip of inconvenience so we haven’t given him another thought once he was gone.”

“It’s alright, Torch. We appreciate the help,” Whiskey replies.

“I’ll give you a holler if he pops up around here again.”

“Hopefully he’ll be ashes before that happens,” I add. “But thanks.”

“Later.” And the line goes dead.

“Well, that was a bust.” I rub my hands down my face, frustrated as all fucking hell and taking it out on my beard.

Whiskey slides his phone into the inside chest pocket of his cut, then leans back in his chair, hands folded behind his head. “You got a current address on the fucker?”

Cypher clicks a few more keys then turns his laptop around once more. There is a map of the surrounding counties with two red dots. “Both the strip club and the home address attached to his alias are not quite thirty minutes north of here.”

“It’ll probably be best to send out two crews to check both places at once,” Steel suggests.

“We’ve got Church in fifteen,” Whiskey notes, looking at the clock on the wall above my head. “I doubt we’ll have any objections once we share all this with the other Brothers, but we need to fill everyone in regardless.”

“One more thing before we head out there.” I hold up a hand as we all stand. “I know it’s all kinds of complicated, and I’ve barely known her for twenty-four hours, but I’m gonna be claimin’ Riley as my Old Lady.”

“Well I would certainly fuckin’ hope so,” Ring says as he claps me on the shoulder. “One look at the two of you eye-fuckin’ each other when you walked in the clubhouse, a man on the moon would’ve known how you felt about her.”

“Fuck you, asshole.” I slap him back, hard. “Say that in front of my lady and next thing you know, you’ll be neighbors with that man on the moon.”