King”
By the time I got to the end of the letter, my hands were shaking with fury. This was a fucking ballsy move on the part of King, and it spoke to a level of confidence I didn’t think he’d have. I wasn’t surprised some out-of-town fuck would want to cause trouble.
But the fact that the Black Reapers had come to warn about him…after everything I’d seen go down in California and New Mexico…and now I had to fucking deal with this shit here…
Fuck.
I had to at least consider the possibility that the old “curbstomp and kill” method of violence wouldn’t be enough.
“Spawn, Sonny,” I said, “come with me to church, now. Whatever you’re doing isn’t as important as what we need to talk about.”
They followed me without question to our private meeting room, the spot where phones were not allowed and only officers and invited members could attend. Typically, only the three of us made club decisions. Sometimes, if we felt it benefited the club, we invited some senior members to attend, but I never fucking understood clubs that had a shitload of officers. This wasn’t the fucking cabinet of the U.S. president; this was a local club of a few dozen members that had a very fucking clear pecking order.
“What’s going on?” Sonny asked.
“That fucking letter you showed me? Read it.”
I tossed it over to them. I then did something that I hadn’t fucking done in ages.
I smoked a cigarette.
I loved cigars. I’d smoke that shit all day. Booze, I was all on for. But cigarettes, I was tired of sounding like a lung cancer patient in my thirties during sex. I gave that shit up except in the most stressful of moments and circumstances.
Which pretty much said every goddamn thing about the current moment.
“So I take it we’re not going to beat the shit out of the next messenger from the King’s Men.”
“I’m not saying we won’t, but I am saying we won’t without thinking about it,” I said with a sigh. “This club has fucking worked because no one outside of town has ever made a serious attempt to infiltrate this area. The few that do get the hint real quickly, and any rivals in this town get stomped out of existence before the cops even know who they are. But someone who has the fucking balls to use my first name in a letter like that after we beat their ass down? That’s someone that at least merits some fucking attention, if not concern.”
But I was concerned. I just wasn’t going to fucking show it or let it affect me.
“We need to start preparing for battle,” I said. “When this messenger comes, we’re going to tell him no. We’re not joining him. That is not negotiable under any fucking circumstances. If we have to die instead of joining them, then you boys better know what’s more honorable.”
I had concerns about some of the members and prospects, but I didn’t give a third of the shit that I did for the two in this room. Luckily, I didn’t have to concern myself one goddamn bit with their loyalty to the club.
“What about the Black Reapers?” Spawn said.
“What about ‘em?” I said. “Don’t tell me they’re still piddling around in the area.”
Spawn said nothing. I groaned.
“Like a bunch of fucking cockroaches, they ain’t dead unless you decapitate them, and even then, probably not.”
We for sure weren’t going to do shit until bloodshed broke out. And even then, I’d need to see some of my men die before I considered it.
“Let them burn through expenses in hotel rooms for now,” I said. “Maybe one of the kids is a trust-fund baby; who the hell knows. I wouldn’t bet on it, though.”
“So you don’t want us to clear them out?” Sonny said.
I shook my head.
“They ain’t attacking us, so we won’t waste our time with them,” I said. “For now.”
Sonny nodded.
“However, Spawn, I want you to focus on getting more weapons. Reviewing attack strategies. Do whatever you have to do to make sure every member in this club is ready, willing, and eager to fight.”
“Of course, boss. And you?”
