22| Maverick.

I walk inside Club Infusion with my hands curled into tight balls at my sides and make my way to the back, where my men are unloading the rest of the crates that arrived late last night.

Dan is following a few paces behind me. Trex and five more of his guys are standing next to the truck, squabbling like a bunch of school girls, blaming each other for the unnecessary fuck up that has bought me to the Club and having to deal with them in person.

What should have been a pretty straightforward arrangement has somehow turned to custard, putting me in a tight spot. And I hate it when people fuck me over because they are too incompetent to sort their shit out and complete the transaction smoothly.

“My condolences about your father, Maverick,” Trex says the instant he sees me.

I nod my head, biting my tongue as the words, ‘He’s where he belongs.’, burn the inside of my mouth.

“What happened with my shipment?” I nod toward the crates left on the truck and ask him instead.

“Arthur stuffed u