Whatever we have to do.
Did something happen?
I’ll tell you about it tomorrow. Your plan is solid, right?
Extra solid if you’re still considering bonding with Cash.
I am. I’m ready.
I let out a puff of relief. Finally, some recourse to this fucked-up situation we’re in. Half of me wants to relay the good news to Cash, but I’ll leave that to Lily. There’s a light knock on my door, and I sigh. “Come in.”
Tate walks in, a purple bruise forming over his eye, and the left side of his lip is busted.
“Tonight, the raid’s tonight,” he deadpans.
“You look like fuckin’ shit,” I tell him, and he shrugs his shoulders.
“You in?”
“We’ll be back by mornin’?” I ask him.
“Why? You have plans?”
“I do.”
“Yeah, we’ll be back by fuckin’ mornin’. Get Cash and let’s fuckin’ go.”
“You never said who is givin’ you this intel,” I say, poking at him. Plus, I’m genuinely curious. Do the Wraiths have a rat in their midst?
“We can trust him, that’s all you need to know,” Tate replies. With the way his face looks and how shitty his tone is, I don’t push him any further.
“You’re sure that this is what you want, man? Starting shit with the Wraiths can only end a few ways,” I remind him.
I’m down for anything to be honest, but sometimes I wonder what Tate isn’t telling us. For me it’s easy. I want to be with Lily, and since the new guys have gotten here, I’ve realized that theclub needs some major fuckin’ changes. It’s clear Tate fuckin’ hates his dad, but surely there has to be more to his anger than just hating the Prez.
“Yeah, I’m sure. You will be too. Go get fuckin’ ready,” he directs, and something about his confidence makes me follow his commands. I nod, tossing my cut on my bed and changing into an all-black outfit.
“You’re sure about this?”Cash asks Tate from the driver’s seat. We’re parked behind a line of trees and it feels like we’re in the middle of nowhere. For whatever reason, Tate had Cash and I stow our bikes in the back of the van. It makes me wonder what the play is.
“Once you see the cargo, you’ll understand,” Tate states.
“This has nothing to do with your fucked-up face?” Cash jests.
“It does, and it doesn’t,” Tate replies dryly.
“Such a fuckin’ chatterbox tonight. Want to explain the plan? I need to be home before sunrise,” I say. Both of them look back at me but don’t question it.
“I need you to put the spike strip down,” Tate instructs, lookin’ at me. “I’ll be behind the big tree over there, and I’ll take out the driver and anyone else I can see within my scope. Cash will be on standby if anyone comes out of nowhere. My intel says that there will only be one van and likely two to four club members handling the transit.”
“You’re still just gonna keep us guessin’?” I ask, feeling annoyed that Tate is keeping secrets.
“You trust me?” he asks, glancing at both of us, and I let out a sigh.
“Yeah, I fuckin’ guess.”
“Let’s do the fucking thing then,” Cash says, swinging open his door and we all follow suit.
Tate gets his weapon of choice, setting up shop while I get the tire strip ready and Cash backs us both up.
