Impulsively (Dante's Nine MC) Read Online Free PDF

intelligence on two of the most powerful
and influential MC’s in the Las Vegas area,” Mitchell goes on.
    “MC’s are motorcycle clubs. Outlaws,” Bruno says, sneering
condescendingly.
    “Thanks. I took Organized Crime 101 at the FBI Academy just
like you did,” I snap back.
    “The clubs in question are The Devil’s Wraiths Nevada
Chapter and Dante’s Nine, a smaller local operation that’s recently become a
support club for the Wraiths,” Mitchell says. “We’ve been receiving more tips
than ever lately, regarding these clubs’ illegal activities. We’ve never been
able to pin anything major on either, but that might change soon.
    Dante’s Nine has been very cooperative with us in the past,
when it’s been in their best interest. A year or so back, they helped us bring
down the head honcho of the Lorenzo Family and put an end to a series of deadly
cage matches. They got their slate scrubbed clean for that bit of assistance,
full immunity for all club members, but they’re fair game again now that
they’re allied with the Wraiths.”
    “Dante’s Nine has always relied on a variety of income
sources to stay afloat. From what we can tell, they’ve shuttered most of their
questionable operations of late in favor of a modest auto shop, built adjacent
to their club house. One of the members bailed them out around the time we
offered immunity, so they seemingly haven’t had to resort to their old ways.”
    “So if they’ve gone legit, what’s the problem?” I ask.
    “The problem is, it’s clearly a front,” Bruno says, rolling
his eyes. “We just don’t know for what yet.”
    “The Devil’s Wraiths are less apologetic when it comes to
the source of their money, and less family friendly, too,” Mitchell cuts in.
“They’ve got a wildly successful strip club built on their compound. The
Devil’s Playpen, it’s called. They bring in porn stars with niche followings
and draw in the fan boy big spenders from Vegas. Good strategy, I’ve got to
hand it to them.”
    “So they’re scum bags,” I shrug, “No big surprise there.
What’s happened recently that has the FBI back on their case?”
    “Both of their clubs’ businesses have flexed a bit, lately,
to accommodate some changes,” Mitchell says, leading me closer to the wall of
intel. “There have been some changes to the MC ranks. New members and current
members trading positions of influence.”
    There are two sets of photos displayed on the wall, arranged
in pyramids of rank. One set is labeled “Dante’s Nine”, the other “Devil’s
Wraiths.” At the head of the first is a devilishly handsome silver fox bearing
the tag “John Baxter, President.” Topping the other pyramid is a round-faced,
mean-looking sonofabitch with wispy white blonde hair, tagged “Malcolm ‘Mac’
Donnelly, President.”
    But far more eye-catching than the two men in charge are
their second-in-commands. Flanking each MC president is an insanely attractive
young VP. “Declan Tiberi,” the intense, clean-shaven VP of Dante’s Nine, and
“Leo Bane,” the bearded, golden-eyed VP of the Devil’s Wraiths, could easily
pass for rock stars. And in their world, I bet they do.
    “It’s the clubs’ VPs that seem to be stirring up the most
trouble,” Mitchell goes on, seeing my gaze fix firmly on the striking outlaws.
“Tiberi just got promoted a few months ago. Standard changing of the guard.
They’re each being groomed to take over their clubs as president one day, and
are making their mark on the way things are done. But the real agents of change
have been their old ladies.”
    “Their what?” I ask, ripping my eyes away.
    “Club wives, more or less,” Bruno says. “Tiberi and Bane
have each picked up feisty little honeys this past year. Civilians turned MC
bitches.”
    I cringe at his blatantly sexist language. “Is ‘MC bitch’
the proper terminology, Bruno?”
    “Proper or not, that’s what they are,” he shrugs. “And
they’re making