"What do you an?" Donnie’s expression grew even more serious as he asked, unsure of what Dante was referring to.
"I an, or rather, I want to improve the trucks you have." Dante looked at the sheriff’s truck and said, "I don’t know if you’re aware, but outside Montana, things are much more complex and far more violent. That’s why I want to upgrade your equipnt, starting with giving you better trucks with at least level-seven armor."
This was the topic Dante wanted to discuss with Donnie. Upon hearing that they’d be receiving new equipnt to improve the police departnt, Donnie felt butterflies in his stomach.
Even if Dante hadn’t taken an interest in them, they currently had enough resources to upgrade their equipnt themselves.
"Oh, but Dante, the worst we encounter in Montana are kidnappers who usually give up if we catch them in the act," Donnie said, thinking this was too much.
"Um..." Dante glanced at a ssage Susie had sent him and then told Donnie, "No, not at all. I think this is exactly what my police need if they’re going to be useful to at so point."
Of course, the police he paid weren’t of great importance to him. He wanted to upgrade their equipnt because he had military personnel within the police departnt who worked directly for him.
"Then... we’ll do as you say." Donnie forgot for a mont who he was talking to and quickly corrected his response.
As Dante watched him calmly, Donnie noticed so wounds on his hands, especially on his knuckles. He wanted to ask if Dante had recently been in trouble, but since Donnie’s job wasn’t to ask questions, he decided to stay silent.
"You’ll have military-grade armored vehicles, top-level equipnt, and we’ll rebuild the station you’re based in." With his brother as the ruler of Montana, Dante could do many of the things he was now rely imagining.
"Do you want to increase the number of officers under your command?" Donnie knew that not all the police officers were under the control of the Sons of Anarchy, so improving the departnt would make others decide to join them.
These were all ideas a true leader would have. Dante wanted to establish his empire in Montana.
Dante was currently untouchable in Montana, and the only ones who could potentially cause him problems were those in the Indian reservation. But as far as he knew, they didn’t involve themselves illegally in that territory.
"Everything is calm now, Sheriff. As long as you do your job without interruptions, there shouldn’t be any problems." Dante murmured these words while holding his fishing rod.
From Dante’s perspective, it seed reasonable that all he asked was for them to follow his orders, but Donnie still couldn’t decipher the deeper aning behind his words.
"I just hope that when the ti cos, your n are ready."
"We’ll be ready."
Dante nodded slightly, pulled out a stack of papers, and said, "These are the housing developnt plans. My plan is to build hos that blend with Montana’s essence without breaking what it ans to live in this beautiful state."
"Will you sell them?"
"They’re for you." Dante looked at Donnie and explained, "As long as you’re efficient and useful, you’ll receive a completely clean house in your na. I’ll take care of your lives, pay off your debts, and ensure your family’s future is promising."
"All this just for working for you?" Donnie’s expression was indescribable; he was frozen. His trembling hands held the plans Dante had given him, noticing that there were about five hundred hos.
Dante stood up and said, "The new vehicles will arrive soon. I’ll take care of everything. Keep my assistant inford of anything that requires my attention."
Donnie stood up as well and extended his hand with a big smile: "We’re at your service."
"And one more piece of advice: quit gambling—it could ruin your life," Dante offered the sheriff a small piece of advice.
"I’ll do it, boss."
Dante sensed sothing. Maybe Donnie didn’t notice it, but for so reason, Dante felt he was missing sothing very important.
"Do you have problems with the police?"
"Um..." Dante turned around to see Monica standing behind him, holding a bag. It seed she was about to head out to teach at the Indian reservation. "Not at all. You could say we’re acquaintances."
"An acquaintance visits you first thing in the morning, and a police officer, no less? You know, I don’t want to make you feel bad. I just want to thank you for what you’re doing for the Indian reservation." Monica wasn’t interested in Dante; she just sought to thank him in so way.
Surprised, Dante asked, "How do you know I’m helping the reservation?"
He had been doing things for the Indian reservation, one of which was distributing food aid to families struggling to make ends et.
Of course, Dante wasn’t directly doing this for them. He had far more food than he could sell or distribute. That’s why, in his efforts to establish a reputation and expand the Sons of Anarchy’s influence as simple bikers, he was providing much more help than one might expect.
Monica, hearing this, asked, "The kids talk a lot. Their parents say a Dutton nad Dante gave them good jobs. Plus, many of the children who have no one are grateful to you for giving them clothes, food, and electronic devices."
Dante knew that so of the common workers were aware of him, but he hadn’t realized the Sons of Anarchy were spreading his na with every good deed they perford.
"There’s nothing to thank for. I don’t deserve any of that because everything has a purpose." Dante didn’t want to appear humble, nor did he want to receive undeserved praise.
Cleaning up his image was necessary to keep growing. Being the villain in many people’s stories didn’t always end well.
"Well, that’s what many people say. I have to go teach."
Dante nodded with a smile and said, "Have a good trip."
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