Free For Your Sake by Elayne Disano

just follow that brunette?”
     
                  Injured eye, my ass, Ben thought.  Aero had hawk vision.  “Vic’s birthday next month.  Checking out cards and killing time.”
     
                  “Uh, huh.  C’mon.  Let’s go in.” Aero’s voice was suspicious and rightly so.  Ben didn’t endure surrounding himself with stuff even to kill time.  Hell, it made him physically ill to watch that reality show about hoarders.  Aero opened the door of the package store, motioning Ben inside.  A blonde girl who barely looked old enough to be working behind the counter immediately puffed her A-cup tits from under a tank top as Aero approached.  “Looking for Joey.”
     
                  “You found me.”
     
                  Before the girl could coyly reply, the person in question appeared from the wine aisle.  Plainly speaking, Guiseppe ‘Joey’ Perrone was an entitled little guinea putz.  And that was putting it nicely.  Barely twenty five, the only way he earned running this place was because ‘the family’ owned it.  It was one of four package stores the Santagio family owned in West Virginia near the four Skulls’ charters – and the very reason the MC set up shop here over two decades ago.  “Three p.m.” Aero told him.  “What’s going on.”
     
                  Without so much as a friendly acknowledgement, Joey jerked his head towards the back.  “Follow me.”
     
                  Ben gave his V.P. a look and rolled his eyes.  They hated this arrogant, smug kid who took his glorified messenger role as some power trip. In a back room with cardboard boxes stacked almost to the ceiling, Joey cracked the emergency door before lighting a cigarette.  “Bottom line, gents – Uncle Emie ain’t too happy with what went down at the warehouse.”
     
                  Really, Ben thought to himself.  They had to waste a meet to get the obvious from some little Italian twat?  “Neither are we.”
     
                  Joey snorted, then took a drag.  “And the stock?”
     
                  “Moved,” Aero quickly replied.  “Safe and secure.”
     
                  “You sure?”
     
                  Disrespectful little douche.  Ben wanted to take him by that thick gold chain around his neck and slam him into the wall.  But Joey was untouchable and knew it.  Because of Emilio Santagio –aka Uncle Emie - the brand-spanking new head of the ‘family’.
     
                  “Positive.”  Aero was feeling the same agitation as Ben.  “Just need to know how to move forward.  Other three charters have been on stand-by the last two weeks to make the run.  By my calculations, another shipment should be coming in mid-October.”
     
                  “Somewhere around there.”   Joey took another drag, then made a skeptical face.  “But, something tells me Uncle Emie may be looking into……other options.”
     
                  The Hancock County charter of the Mountain Skulls first established itself here back in 1989 after partnering with the Santagios who were looking for new muscle.  Easy stuff at first, protection, security, the occasional leg breaking, before a slow, steady trust between the Skulls then-president and Luca Santiago moved them into bigger business. 
     
                  Tippitt, named due to its location at West Virginia’s northern-most ‘tip’, was the ‘mother’ charter.  The little town of less than twenty thousand was a perfect, non-descript spot to hide in plain sight.  New members were eventually recruited for three others charters stationed at the east, west and south points of the state, allowing easy access into Kentucky and Virginia. Tippitt covered Ohio and Pennsylvania and, along with the other charters, helped funnel the east coast with the Santiago