They’re trying to encourage their arrival.
“That sounds absurd,” Brock said.
But there was real fear in Brock’s voice as he spoke, probably because he was realizing the same thing that I had by now. The Bandits had connections, somehow, that promised them if they wound up in jail on RICO or something else, they’d have legal protection. We had Cole’s money and maybe, if he was still alive in a couple weeks, help from a club in California…that the feds could also target.
We weren’t just fighting a war that we hoped wouldn’t explode in size. We were fighting a war that the other side would have loved nothing more than to expand.
“Who is backing you?” I said.
“What do you mean?”
“Rich people. Wealthy families. Who the hell is backing you?”
“I don’t know, man, I’m just telling you what I was told; that’s it. I fucking swear.”
Brock and Steele took a couple of steps back. They looked to me with some hesitation, almost like they didn’t want to admit the “smart guy” might be figuring out something before them. But what did it fucking matter? The important thing was that we wipe out the Bandits, not who among us did it.
“A moment, Zack.”
Brock pulled me aside.
“We need to finish this fast and quiet, huh?”
“I would say so, Brock,” I said. “Whoever this King guy is, he’s good. He’s only telling the people that he needs to get his shit done. He’s not telling all the Bandits. I’ll bet more than anything Eduardo is the only person over there who even knows King exists.”
“Shit.”
If that was the case, it made getting information a hell of a lot harder than it was now. But there was a bit of a silver lining to this—if we killed Eduardo, all of the connection to this mysterious King figure disappeared. And while that didn’t prevent him from establishing ties with a different Bandit, it would make him a lot more hesitant.
“We need to extract what more we can from this guy,” I said. “This asshole right here, we need to drag everything that we can out of him. Any future plans, any heads we aren’t familiar with, whatever. We get it out of him. And then we act on it, but we keep a high-level plan in place to kill Eduardo quietly.”
“Yeah, agreed,” Brock said. “You know, Zack, the other guys aren’t going to say this because they’re too prideful. But…you do some good shit for this club. Thanks.”
He patted me on the arm. That was the extent of it, and that was probably the most I’d get from anyone in the club for some time. And that was OK.
There were going to be questions at some point, especially when I got my diploma and could get a much better paying job, about what my future with the Black Reapers would be. I sure as hell had no intention of quitting anytime soon, but if I had a day job that brought envy about…
Well, that was a problem to worry about in the future. For now, we had enough fucking problems in the present that would need resolution before I could even give serious consideration to something as cliche as “plans after graduation.”
I looked back at the captured Bandit. Mason and Connor were doing something, and I could hear the Bandit screaming. It wasn’t anything that fazed me, but after the remarks in the circle, I felt like I had done my bit. And as it was, I was fucking exhausted; I hadn’t magically regained the awareness of someone who had had a full night of sleep just because I had given Brock some good advice.
I stepped away, joining Garrett and Steele as we left, Garrett to be a father and Steele to get some rest. I got on my bike and paused. There was one thing I hadn’t taken care of yet, something that I’d put off but now required my attention.
I pulled out my phone and looked at the text from Justine. I wished I could have given her a more positive answer, something that would have told her it would be all right. But I had nothing.
“Unfortunately, I don’t know anything about such weirdos. I’ll make sure we look into it, though.”
I put the phone away and smiled. It would be good to see her soon. After everything from the past forty-eight hours or so, I welcomed the chance to have some relaxation and fun. And who knew? Maybe if I played my cards right, I’d get sex I actually anticipated craving and not sex that just fell into my lap.
The only question was, thinking back to when I’d last seen her, knowing that she had asked me—no, demanded of me—to distance myself from the Black Reapers while we hung out. Was that something that I could even do?
And with the way the world was going right now, both in Santa Maria and, now, in Albuquerque, was that something I should even be trying to do?
