* * *
Ten minutes later, Jerome had led me to a private house. Inside, about half a dozen Hovas waited. The street was in an actually pretty quiet part of town. Our motorcycles were the only vehicles making noise, to the point that I felt uneasy about riding one in the area.
“This is Ty,” Jerome said, introducing me to the biggest man in the room. “By day, Ty works as head of security for the Staples Center. At night, he’s at the games, but when there’s nothing goin’ on, he comes here. This is his home.”
“Pleasure,” I said, although neither of us was exactly warm to each other. Ty didn’t even say anything as he shook my hand.
“Here’s the deal,” Jerome said. “We're rollin’ out of here in about fifteen. We’re gonna go up to the Saints’ HQ. And we’re gonna give them a fucking taste of the medicine that they’ve been given us for some time. I’m sick of their fucking nonsense, and I think everyone else is in here.”
“Damn right,” numerous voices said at once.
“Some of the club members think it’s the Reapers after the gun exchange,” Jerome continued. “Axle, this is your chance to prove that’s not the case. Show us you can be trusted.”
“Wouldn’t be here if I couldn’t be,” I said.
Jerome shrugged.
“Ty’s got weapons and body armor galore in the basement of this house. Feel free to grab whatever you need. We leave at the top of the hour. Until then... make yourself at home, brother.”
I thanked Jerome, but I only took a seat on the back porch of the house. I already had everything I needed. I had a pistol, I had body armor, and tucked into the seat of my motorcycle, I had a submachine gun. There wasn’t anything that I lacked for, and besides, taking things from the Hovas would put me in their debt. While I didn’t mind the occasional helping hand, I didn’t need a handout.
I had left this club long ago for a reason.
I sat in silence outside, trying to clear my mind as I often did before runs. I didn’t suffer from PTSD like Patriot obviously did, and I didn’t try and hype myself up like Lane did, but that didn’t mean that my mind didn’t wander from time to time in preparation for these missions. I considered clearing my head as essential to a good mission as bringing the right equipment.
About five minutes before we were scheduled to roll out, I heard the sliding door open. I turned and saw Jerome, then looked back away as he approached.
“How’s life in the Reapers, man?”
There was no way that such an innocuous question was meant to be just that. But Jerome wasn’t an interrogator or an enemy.
“Good,” I said.
“Good,” Jerome repeated with a chuckle. “Man, you always were one for not saying much, were you?”
I just shrugged. I even let a bit of a smile slip, knowing that I was only reinforcing Jerome’s beliefs of me.
“So by good, I mean like... you getting pussy? They treating you well?”
“Yep,” I said.
“You’re just deliberately being coy to toy with me, aren’t you?”
I looked over at him, arched an eyebrow, and let out a short laugh. Jerome responded in kind.
“Good man,” he said. “Look, I ain’t gonna beat around the bush no more. What’s it gonna take for you to come back?”
That got my attention. I looked right at him and dropped all pretense of humor.
“You know we had a deal, Jerome,” I said. “You know that the partnership with the Reapers exists because of my departure.”
“Of course, I know that. I ain’t stupid. I got a memory,” he said. “But it ain’t like if you left, things would just go sour. I like Lane. I may give him shit, but I’m just testin’ him. He’s got a good enough head on his shoulders to grow into. We could keep it goin’ without you.”
I wouldn’t be so sure about that. Lane takes too much personally, and my leaving would turn back the clock real fast.
“Look, let’s just keep it real, okay?” I said. “I didn’t leave the club because I wanted to make an alliance between the Hovas and the Reapers. That was just a nice side effect. I left because the lifestyle you guys lead, that’s not for me.”
The flash. The glitz. The showmanship. None of it appealed to me.
