“Sonny! Spawn! Front and center now!”
I didn’t care if it was my son. If anything, moments like these further cemented the respect I had in the club. My son did not get off the hook by virtue of having the same last name as me—a name which I kept secret from most everyone in here.
Sonny and Spawn walked over before me and stood stiff and at attention, as if in the military.
“You two were here the last couple of hours?”
“Yes, Satan,” they both said together.
“And did you hear anything?”
“No, sir.”
“See anything?”
“No, sir.”
“Do any-fucking-thing?”
“No, sir!”
This was unbelievable. And that was literal—I could not believe that no one had seen, heard, or done anything.
“Goddamnit!” I roared. I grabbed a nearby beer bottle and chucked it as hard as I could against a nearby wall. Two prospects ducked out of the way, then hurried to grab paper towels to clean it up.
I took a couple deep breaths. I’d deal with this shit in due time in-house. But now we had a more pressing issue.
“Whoever fucking did this cannot be far,” I said. “I want all but Spawn, Marco, and you, prospect, to roll out and search in town for anyone associated with the King’s Men. You three will stay with me to guard this place and get rid of this ugly, fucking bullshit!”
I took a moment to let my words echo in the room.
“If you find someone with the King’s Men, you need to beat the living shit out of them. Make them fucking suffer. Kill them for all I fucking care. King crossed the wrong fucking devil, and I’m going to make sure that he dies because of this.”
No one moved.
“Go, fucking idiots!”
Everyone moved at that. I stood in silence, fuming. No one had dared even to leave an empty beer can on the sidewalk outside our clubhouse for years. And now someone had pulled shit like this? Without us even knowing it?
I couldn’t think of a more provocative move that didn’t involve murdering someone. Desecrating another club’s property like this…shit could not have been uglier. I wanted to fucking drive up to Vegas right now and murder King myself. I probably would have if not for the obviously suicidal move that would be.
Once the room had completely cleared except for the three I’d asked to stay behind, I ordered Marco and the prospect to stand watch outside, with the prospect beginning to clean the door.
“How, sir?”
“Figure it out.”
He got the message loud and clear and walked out. When it was just me and Spawn, I stared at him.
“You really had no fucking idea this was happening.”
“None at all, sir.”
He didn’t say anything else.
“Speak freely,” I said, having the sense that he was feeling like nothing he said would account for what happened.
“We were just playing music, playing some pool, and having some drinks, Satan. Whoever did this moved quickly and quietly. I don’t think this is the work of…well, it’s the work of the King’s Men, obviously, but I don’t think King sent a biker.”
