Garrett entered.
“This everyone?” Lane said, which drew a nod from Brock. “The three of us—my brother, Brock, and I—went to downtown Albuquerque to discuss the plan. It seems pretty evident from your previous runs that while this chapter has a lot of balls and a willingness to kick some ass, you guys also have no idea what the fuck you’re doing. And while that has worked for you so far, judging by how the last couple of times have gone, it’s not going to go well in the future.”
Harsh. But fair. We knew how to fight in the streets. We didn’t know how to wage war in the streets.
“The good news about being in bumfuck, New Mexico, is that we have plenty of open space to practice runs. Axle and Patriot are going to lead you guys through, basically, bootcamp. They’re going to show you how the fuck to cover-and-move, how to prioritize and execute, and how to do other tasks required of a soldier. The days of just running in, shooting shit, and winning the battle are over—that’s a damn good way to get your ass kicked.”
None of the New Mexico people said a word. And, unfortunately, there was a damn good reason for it. We didn’t have any legs to stand on. What were we going to do, argue with the veterans that we knew how to fight better than they did?
“So, starting tonight, we’re going to be drilling every night to practice effective maneuvering. We’re going to use what’s called simunition, or, for you dummies that need it spelled out, simulated ammunition. That shit will still sting and leave a fucking mark, though, so I suggest not taking this lightly. We’ll join you in these drills so we can make sure that you guys aren’t totally fucking it up—”
“We’re not idiots,” Connor interjected. “We’re not experienced, but that’s a whole lot fucking different than being stupid.”
Lane breathed slowly.
“Fair enough,” he said.
I looked in surprise at Brock, but he didn’t look back at me. I had to wonder what had happened up at Cole’s penthouse—I suspected some of it had to do with the idea that just because Lane led the original chapter didn’t mean we couldn’t hold our own. To Connor’s point, there’s a big difference between not knowing how to do something and being incapable of doing something.
“However, this shit ain’t easy to learn. There’s a reason the military’s real bootcamps last eight weeks and not eight days. So expect to fuck up and have us get pissed. Understood?”
We all nodded.
“We’ll head out to the open space behind us in twenty. Use the time in between to do whatever the fuck you want.”
With that, Lane rose from the table. The rest of the Black Reapers from California rose and joined him. We might have shared a name, but perhaps outside of Cole, no one straddled any boundaries.
“These are the knights in shining armor that have come to save us?” Steele said when they had all left except for Cole. “Seems to me they’re more interested in looking like heroes.”
“I’m just going to cut any shit off before it gets bad,” Brock said.
He sounded like he’d gone through the wringer with Lane and Cole. Granted, he’d clearly won something since Lane was still here and had even, well, somewhat apologized to Connor. But it had taken its toll.
“I had to fight tooth and fucking nail to get these guys to agree to help. Lane doesn’t want to be here. Cole, I’m just going to say it, he thinks you made a mistake in founding us.”
“He does,” Cole confirmed.
“But I demonstrated to him that I’m not fucking around with this shit. And once he saw that, he agreed to help. It also doesn’t hurt that he recognizes his club is in danger if King ever decides to rally back to California—which is probably going to happen.”
He snorted.
“Understand. I don’t expect us to become friends with these guys. I don’t ask it. I just ask that while we are training together, save the bullshit. I don’t want to hear anything about how no one could get along because there were doubts and frustration. I don’t want this fucking mission to fail because they think we’re incompetent and we think they’re full of shit. Understood?”
We all nodded. We all understood the same thing—this wasn’t a fucking battle of principles, but practicality. We needed them, and they’d probably needed us in the greater war against King and his clubs.
“Good,” Brock said, slapping his hands on the table. “I’m going to go have a beer before we begin training. You guys are welcome to do whatever the fuck you want, so long as you’re behind the clubhouse in twenty.”
He stood up and left the room. No one followed, though, because Cole remained where he was.
“Just to be clear,” Cole said, “I don’t really give a fuck what my brother thinks. That might not have been the case a couple of years ago, but what matters now is what I think. I believe that what I’m doing is right, and I will have your back. If he disagrees, so be it.”
I believe what I’m doing is right. If he disagrees…
Connor. Maybe even Brock.
“Got it,” I said.
I was the first to rise from my seat. Connor and Garrett looked at me in surprise. Steele and Zack looked deep in thought. But my eyes were attuned to finding Brock outside of church.
