“I have no fucking idea, and given I’d be killed if I got caught lying, I’d rather not bullshit you,” I said. “My guess is you’re better off trying to free Crush first, even if it is like trying to approach a bull in chains. Prince may at least put up a fight, thinking he needs to honor his dad or his club. But make no fucking mistake about it; Prince has eyes for the outside world.”
I wasn’t lying. But there was the definitive possibility that what I was saying was overly optimistic and foolish. Maybe Crush just had a temper, hence the glares and snarls at King, and would actually sooner have his throat slit than betray King. Maybe Prince just had youthful curiosity that had matured into undying devotion to his father.
But what the fuck else was I supposed to do? Lay low until the Reapers got wiped out and accept my hunted ass as being dead for failing to ever return?
“Fuck it, for now, let’s at least consider it as an option,” Satan said, “since this whole ‘let’s keep attacking them’ approach has left me without a goddamn clubhouse and a goddamn fucking business. Asher. How the fuck are you going to make this happen?”
“Me?” I said, not bothering to hide my surprise. “Me. The guy who hasn’t shown his face to anyone in the King’s Men in months?”
“Yes, you,” he said. “You think any of us assholes have a chance? You think any of us goes up to the Sergeant-at-Arms, we’re going to turn him? You’d have more luck asking him to blow you in the bathroom of a strip club. You at least have spoken to him before.”
This was more than I’d bargained for. I hadn’t really thought this through much, but I figured I’d be more like an informant, not the centerpiece of activity. The whole point was to manipulate things behind the scenes and watch them unfold, not to put my ass on the line and risk it.
Fuck.
And if I turned away, I was dead.
Maybe this was why I wound up in shitty spots in the first place. I wasn’t as good as I’d liked to believe in setting things up.
“I’ll see what I can do,” I said, fully aware that there was no getting around their requests. “But it’s going to take time. I can’t just walk up and shake Crush’s hand. I’ll need to think up why I haven’t shown my face in months.”
“Do whatever the fuck you need to do,” Satan said, “and don’t fuck it up. To the rest of us, we’ve been here too fucking long, and I don’t like us being in one place together like this. Let’s disperse and meet back up. Asher, get your ass out of here and come back in a week with updates.”
With that, everyone rose from their chairs. I did as well, as Spawn put the gun on my neck and made it apparent what I needed to do. I moved with full compliance. As soon as I got outside, Spawn slammed the door shut, and once more, I was a man on my own.
Actually, that was only in terms of proximity to other people. I was a man who was now a part of the Black Reapers, for better or for worse. So much for playing both sides of the coin.
Not that anyone else needs to know that…
Curiosity filled my mind. Maybe I had some ideas that would work, after all. Maybe there was some potential to make things better. Who said anything about the King’s Men having to know what was going on? Who said…
Well, lying to the Black Reapers might be a fatal risk. But what wasn’t at least potentially deadly these days?
I headed to my bike—which, yes, I’d ridden this time since the element of surprise was no longer of deadly consequence—and pulled out my phone from the seat. I groaned as soon as I saw my text messages.
Unsurprisingly,shehad messaged me.
“Hey, I got a job in Phoenix. Start on Monday. Would love to see you. Hope you are well.”
In one respect, it was almost stupid of her to text me. Never had I responded, “playing dead” as best as I could. Never had I even communicated outside of texting since I sent her that letter, telling her it was easier to declare me dead to move on with her life than anything else. And even if I didn’t do that…it wasn’t like shit was good to begin with.
But fuck if I didn’t feel something reading that.
Something that I quickly pushed away. That shit didn’t matter right now. Nothing but one thing mattered.
Ending the King’s Men so my own ass could finally be free.
Callie
Monday
It had all happened so fast, I still didn’t even have a place to live in Phoenix.
The company had hired me and told me I could start as soon as I wanted. They gave me ten grand over what I’d hoped to negotiate for in salary. It all moved faster than any business interview I’d ever done, to the point that I almost wondered if I’d somehow wound up in something illegal or dangerous.
But when I showed up and told the receptionist it was my first day, she had me in the system to get a photo ID and a keycard into the building. So it seemed, for whatever weirdness had gone on to that point, at least things were somewhat normal now that the work itself had started.
As I was getting photographed for my ID, my boss, Carl, came downstairs. I’d spoken to Carl over Zoom leading up to the hire, and he seemed…like a constant nervous wreck. Granted, the place had been the scene of a shootout, but even by that standard, compared to everyone else in the office, he seemed especially nervous, like he could no longer function as he normally could.
