Lane shook his head, went still, and lost himself deep in thought.
When he finally looked up at me, he didn’t say a word about what I had just said. He didn’t nod. He didn’t give any indicator that he agreed with what I said.
But I knew, looking into that man’s eyes, that he understood what I meant.
* * *
The Next Evening
We didn’t give a shit if the rat knew how prepared we were.
I still had my suspicions about it being Butch, even with the apology, but frankly, we needed numbers so great that it was impossible to splinter off. The fact there were no Fallen Saints sightings after the sun had set told me that they had gathered everyone back at their base in preparation for an attack. The only question was when.
I had a feeling this was not going to be a hit-and-run. This was them believing we were at a weak point—whether because of me or something else, it didn’t matter. They saw an opportunity, and they were going to take advantage of it.
Around eight o’clock, we had everyone in the club capable of using a weapon ready to roll out into combat. We had given body armor to the officers and to as many club members as we could. For the ones who did not, we told them to take up flanking positions, the better to minimize their chances of getting killed in combat. We may have hazed our new members and treated them like crap in calmer times, but we didn’t play with lives.
We weren’t the fucking Fallen Saints.
I stood outside the clubhouse, wearing a helmet, listening as closely as I could to the Springsville night. There were sounds of motorcycles out and about, but none of them were coming any closer than a couple miles away. None of them seemed to be approaching us.
The door behind me opened. Lane walked out.
“Anything?” he said.
I shook my head.
“Do you think they set us up?”
“No,” I said. “I don’t think this is a ruse. I think they’re really planning something.”
Lane didn’t say a word. And then something caught his eye in the distance.
“Do you see that glow?”
We looked east. There was an orange glow and smoke.
“The assholes set something on fire,” I growled.
“How much do you want to bet it’s Brewskis,” Lane said. “Attacked it to try and get us out, now they’re burning down the fucking place to get our attention. Well, they’ve got it.”
“You know it’s a trap,” I said. “We drive right into the teeth of the wolf if we do this.”
But when I looked at Lane, I didn’t see the scared boy who had assumed the role of presidency just last year. I saw the face of a man that had evolved and matured in the last few months.
“Protecting this town is more important than having a perfect strategy, Axle,” he said. “If anyone is in danger in that building or needs our help, we go. Understood?”
“And our help?”
“They’ll hear the gunfire and see the flames. It’s not like they don’t know where Brewskis is. Let’s get everyone rolling out.”
It sure looked like Lane was becoming more and more the man that his father was every day.
And if he could do that, then I sure as hell could put my grievances with others in the club behind.
I could hear Lane’s voice booming behind me, calling for everyone to head to their bike and to follow me and him. I took that as my cue to jump on my bike. In total, there were about thirty of us, charging ahead, preparing to lay waste to the Fallen Saints.
Sure enough, when the smoke and fire came into view, we could see it was Brewskis that had fallen.
