“Let’s say they know what LaBlanc is doing, condoned it, and maybe even organized it. That’d be one reason to not show.” Wildman yawned, appearing totally at ease. “Let’s say they’re spending their minutes looking for LaBlanc over there. Looking but not finding. Let’s say they have an inkling the job has gone sideways. They wouldn’t be within fifty miles of this clubhouse.” He lifted his head and looked over at Cherry. “Brother, which way are you betting?”
“Hundred says they don’t show. But I’d be taking your money while knowing the future.” He pulled out his phone and unlocked it. “Let me see here. If I do this—” He tapped the screen. “—and then do that. Well, lookie here. They are headed up north somewhere. Looks like they got on the interstate and are just rolling away.” He held up the phone so the two ASMC officers could see the map with its cluster of dots. Two were red and leading the cluster. “Those red dots are Apollo and Dillinger. The rest are a slice of the members. There’s not enough of them on the road, so let’s scroll down. Oh, yep, the rest are at the clubhouse. Which is interesting. Why wouldn’t the whole club roll out for a run?”
“You bugged our club?” Loki looked dangerous when he was that alert. “You bugged our members?”
“Not all of them.” Cherry shook his head. “But the two leaders and a few of their closest confidants? Hell yeah.” He stood, leaning over the table. “Because this isn’t a fucking game. It’s not a week at Daytona, cruising the line. This is fucking life and death around here, and they’re trying to shit on what we’ve built. I will not allow it. Nope, that I will not allow.”
“Do you know where they’re going?” Atlas pushed his chair back. “I’m in favor of going to talk to the members left in town.”
“Oh, you do that. LaBlanc here can ride with us. I have a good idea where they’re headed. There’s a couple of RCs up north, just east of the interstate. Rumor was they were friendly with your Scimitars. I’d be looking for a bolt hole if I were them, and those RC could provide it.” Cherry stood and crowded close to Atlas and Loki. “Your invitation is revoked. You’ll need to be on the plane to get a ride home.” He looked over his shoulder. “Busk, what time is that plane leaving?”
“Six o’clock on the dot. Don’t be late.” Busk stood and stepped up so he was shoulder to shoulder with Cherry. Ruger moved into place on his other side.
Cherry watched as Atlas swallowed hard. “We won’t be late. I’m going to go see if I can salvage the members who didn’t cut and run. Would you let me know what you find when you catch up to Apollo?” Atlas stuck out his hand.
“Prolly. Depending on what we find. Some messages are better delivered in person.” Ruger didn’t move from his position and Atlas’ hand hung there for another beat before he pulled back, standing tall again. “Don’t call me, I’ll call you.”
Cherry watched them exit the building, Loki taking his place at his President’s six. “They’ve got balls.”
The door closed behind them and Cherry heard a cage engine start outside.
“They do, or they didn’t know what they were walking into. I don’t know if I’d have had the gonads to stand up to a rival club’s president, knowing it was just me and Busk. I believe I would, but it would have been a pucker moment. Kudos to them.” Ruger turned to face Cherry. “I want you already gone.”
“Yup.” Cherry pointed at a dozen men in turn. “You’re coming with me.” He pointed at another six men. “You’re coming with me as well, but when we’re closer in we’ll push you to roll in five minutes behind us. Hopefully we won’t need the help, but I’d rather be safe than sorry.”
Jinx, one of the men selected for the delayed entry, grinned. “Just call us the Savin’ Bacon crew.”
Busk leaned closer. “How are you dealing with LaBlanc?”
“Easy as,” Cherry said, walking over to where the man still sat. He reached to his back, pulling out his gun. The Glock fit his hand, settling into place immediately. He pulled back, noted LaBlanc’s delayed reaction, and clocked him on the side of his head. The man immediately went boneless, slipping from the chair into a pile on the floor. “That should keep him for as long as we need. Someone get zip ties on his wrists and ankles. Put him in the room out back. He can wait for me there.”
“Thought you were taking him?” Salty hefted LaBlanc to his shoulder in a fireman’s carry.
“Not a fucking chance. Can you imagine having him laid across the seat and running past the po-lice?” He shook his head. “Not a fucking chance.”
“Was afraid you’d lost what’s left of your mind.” Salty grinned. “Let me deposit this asshole in the room. Don’t leave without me!”
“Wouldn’t dream.” Cherry offered his hand to Ruger and got pulled into a one-armed clinch. “I’m not planning on bringing anyone back, brother.”
“Just ours. Fuck the assholes.”
Busk pulled on Cherry’s arm, spinning him into a one-armed hug. “Call your guy before you go.”
Cherry paused. He’d been so focused on business, it hadn’t crossed his mind. “Will do.” He raised his voice. “My guys, we go in five. Roll heavy, bring sparklers.” Cherry watched as each man checked for his weapon of choice, and then pulled lengths of chain from the closet near the door. He turned back to the meeting room, pulling his phone out.
*Got a minute for a quick call?*
The answer came almost immediately as his phone rang in his hand.
“Hey. I was just thinking of you.”
Cherry felt a grin lift the corners of his mouth. “Oh yeah? What were you thinking?”
“Not sure it’s proper for mixed company.”
“Ah, you’ve got visitors. I’ll keep it brief. We’re headed out to deal with the ASMC in a final way. I should be home, but it’ll be late.”
“Home.” Denis spoke softly and Cherry matched his tone.
