Connor
Brock texted me on the way home to sleep in.
After the way the past day had gone, I could only assume that it was because he wanted time to think about how to punish me, Zack, and Mason. Going past him to do our own thing had pissed him off unlike anything I had ever seen not involving Tara, and I wasn’t about to believe that a good night’s rest would make him change his mind. Quite the opposite, in fact; I assumed that sleep would make him surer that I was in for a world of hurt.
And as it was, it didn’t much fucking matter for me. I laid in bed around one in the morning, but I didn’t fucking fall asleep. If anything, I was even more alert in bed than I had been at any point.
How much had fucking happened today? Jesus. I woke up. Went on a date. Had sex. Got shot at. Rushed Garrett to the hospital. Got reamed out by Brock. Went and saw Katie again—after I’d texted her that she was only one and done. She’d said to use the store as a trap for Damian, all while somehow dropping hints that just because I had acted like a dick didn’t mean that she was so ready to move on from me.
I mean…how the fuck could anyone sleep after a day like that? How the fuck could anyone have a still mind? If anything, it was a minor miracle I didn’t get on my bike and just start driving around.Probably because if I did, Sheriff Davis would arrest me or I’d have to get gas at that station.
When I finally did fall asleep, the sky was starting to brighten a bit. I didn’t keep a clock in my room, so I had no idea what time it was, but it obviously wasn’t shortly after one a.m.
Upon waking, it was like someone had injected coffee straight into my veins. There was no fucking downtime from “waking up” to “being fully alert.” None whatsoever.
I was up and ready to kill some goddamn Bandits however the fuck I needed to. But in the interest of not starting a civil war with the club, I got my gear on, hopped on my bike, and headed to the clubhouse instead of, I don’t know, going to Damian’s and finishing the fucking job.
When I arrived, I saw almost all of the bikes already there. Brock had closed down the shop, with only a hastily written sign saying that “Due to unforeseen events, SMAR is closed today.” I went past the shop to the clubhouse and walked inside. The door to church was slightly ajar, and I stepped inside.
Everyone was there.
Even, to my surprise, Garrett.
“Shouldn’t you be getting morphine somewhere in a hospital?” I cracked.
“What, and be a little bitch while you guys handle the big bad wolf of Santa Maria?” Garrett said with a laugh. “Nonsense. I’m not a pussy. I’m here to fight as needed. And besides, we need to do celebratory shots when we finish this mission.”
“You and your fucking shots,” Mason said. “If you die on my sister from alcohol poisoning—”
“I’ve got an indestructible liver, Mason, and you know that,” he said with a cocky smile.
“In any case,” Brock said, speaking over Garrett and Mason before they could continue. “Now that we have everyone here, it’s time to plan.”
I bit my lip.
“Plan what? The fallout?”
“From?” Brock said, looking genuinely confused.
From…Mason and I going past you? From us undermining your authority?
“I figured after last night, there would be some consequences.”
Brock shook his head slowly. There was nothing in his face to suggest this was for show. He genuinely wasn’t going to do anything.
“There is no fallout,” Brock said. “We’re in the middle of war. I don’t have time to pull you three aside and give you lectures about following the chain of command. And to be frank, had you succeeded, I wouldn’t have been pissed for two fucking seconds. I would have congratulated you for your initiative and balls.”
I looked over at Mason and Zack. They didn’t look surprised, but they did look a little more tired than I did. Perhaps Brock had already had this conversation with them, and now they were just eager to move forward.
“You did the wrong thing for the right reasons; it’s as simple as that,” Brock said. “It didn’t work out, and you won’t do it again—nor will anyone else in this room—but we bury it right fucking now. I’ll take you doing the wrong thing all day if it wipes the Bandits off the map.”
“And it doesn’t get Sheriff Davis up our ass,” Steele said.
Fuck. That’s right.In all the fire we had felt for taking a swipe at Damian and the Bandits, I’d all but forgotten that Sheriff Davis had warned me that shit could get ugly if higher-ups came in to sweep the town clean. So far, that hadn’t proved to be an issue, but it had only been one day, not even twenty-four hours, since the Bandits had struck our house in broad daylight.
If that became a problem, then doing the wrong thing would overwhelm whether or not I did it for the right reasons or not.
“Bottom line,” Brock said. “We need to eradicate the Bandits as quickly as we can and as quietly as we can. So, I don’t give a fuck about the past. We move forward. Who has ideas?”
