Zack
Present Day
Cole sat silently in his living room.
Around him were all of the Black Reapers officers. Brock and Steele sat on one couch, and Connor, Mason, Garrett, and I sat on another. Cole had his head buried in his hands. No one felt good about this meeting.
But after what Sheriff Davis had told us the night before, we’d had to have this meeting.
“King,” Cole said.
The word elicited a very different reaction than someone reading a history book or Shakespeare. “King” was supposedly the mastermind behind so much organized crime in the Southwest and California, and now, seeing that the Black Reapers had popped up in New Mexico, he’d sent in some financial resources to beef up the Bandits into a merged group with the supposedly extinct Fallen Saints. None of us knew anything about King, or even if he was a real person. We only had what Sheriff Davis had told us.
But for as much of a dick as Sheriff Davis could be, as much as he stretched the truth and could target us from time to time, I’d never known him to make up anything. I had never said as much to the rest of the guys, knowing how furious the name “Sheriff Davis” made them, but in cooler moments, I knew there was a difference between targeting people for minor “letter of the law” violations versus just making shit up. And the sheriff definitely did not do that.
“You’re telling me that the man behind the Fallen Saints in California,” Cole said, still not quite able to wrap his mind around everything, “is the same man who told the Bandits to write ‘Fallen Saints’ on my bar?”
“We’re just telling you what Sheriff Davis told us,” Brock said.
“Fuck me,” Cole said. “I thought this shit died when we killed Lucius.”
We exchanged some looks but said nothing. There was a lot of backstory to Cole that we didn’t know, nor did we need to know about. What had happened in Cole’s life wasn’t our business; how he helped us and how he helped participate in this was what mattered.
“All right,” Cole said. “I’m going to need to talk to Lane and see if we can organize something.”
“Do you have any contacts in Las Vegas?”
“Just some loose alliances, nothing formal,” Cole said. “Although if this King guy is real and running shit over there, then we need to make stronger ties. We can’t fight an enemy long distance.”
Cole rose from his chair. He stuffed his hands in his pocket and drew a long breath.
“I appreciate you guys sharing this with me,” he said. “But this means we need to be more aggressive in rooting out the Bandits. If they’re a fucking cancer, then they’re about to spread beyond our control. We need to go on the offensive.”
“It’s what we’ve been fucking doing,” Connor said. “It’s how we killed Damian.”
“Then you’re going to have to do it for whoever is left.”
“Eduardo,” Brock said, practically treating the name like a slur—and for what he had done to Rachel Reid, the girl that had largely catalyzed our resistance to the Bandits, Eduardo deserved to be treated in such a manner. “Guarantee you he’s the one running shit over there. King might be supplying weapons and money, but Eduardo’s going to be the one organizing it.”
“And has he always been the one in charge?”
Brock shrugged.
“The Bandits have never really had a clear hierarchy,” he said. “They’re more a loosely organized group of assholes than they ever were a formal alliance. But if I had to guess, Eduardo could easily control the whole damn place. He’s pretty charming and manipulative when he wants to be.”
“Then you go and kill him,” Cole said. “In the meantime, I’m going to tell Lilly to keep her and Roger here as much as possible. If King is coming for us because we’re Black Reapers, he’s going to come for me. I can handle myself, but it also means he’s going to come after you all hard. Be careful.”
He nodded to the door.
“I’m going to get a drink at Reapers. Feels like a drink and sit kind of night. You’re all welcome to join.”
We all looked at each other, knowing the answer was easy enough. Even though I had exams soon—the last semester of my classes before I’d finally graduate—this mattered more. Beyond that were many questions about my long-term future, but my short-term involved me sitting in Reapers, sipping on some drinks and being there for Cole and the rest of the Reapers.
“Let’s fucking go.”
We all walked out of the apartment and rode down in silence. Cole and Lilly, carrying their son, Roger, intersected at the front, shared a kiss, and went to the corner for a private conversation. We gave them space.
“So sweet,” Garrett said, putting a hand on my shoulder. “I remember the days when I was a wild animal. And now I’m perfectly in love. It’s such a romantic story.”
