We’ve already discussed their gun runs, and after yesterday, we’ve decided to take out the entire club. Now there’s no need to meet up to sabotage their gun shipments. Right now, we’re updating our brothers about the layout of their clubhouse and the total number of men they have hanging around on their roster.
“I think we should go in mid-afternoon and clear these fuckers out,” Twitch speaks up in the deliberation.
“They’ll see us coming a mile away,” Dash argues.
“Not if we’re delivering something. Doesn’t Hawk and Prez’s Ol’ Lady have their delivery schedules? They seem to get some type of delivery every four days or so,” Twitch counters.
“That could work,” Trick adds as one of our newest members in the club.
“I think going in at night will catch them off guard and keep us hidden,” Diesel puts his two cents in as well.
“We aren’t guaranteed that all of them will be there during the night, but most all are there during the day,” Reaper retorts. “If we want to clear them out in one sitting, then we should do it when they’re all there.”
“I agree with Reaper. We know that the majority of them are there during the day fucking around. Most head out to the strip joints or other places around town, according to our intel from the prospects and Hawk’s stalking,” I finally say after hearing everyone. “I like the idea of us going in like a Trojan horse and taking them by surprise.”
“Let’s vote,” Havoc proposes.
We go around the table and some still think going in at night is the better option, but the Trojan horse idea wins out in the end. After looking around the room, I notice Riot not in his seat.
“Where the fuck is Riot?” I say, pointing the gavel at the empty seat. We told every member to be here, no exceptions.
“He had to take care of a problem for Smith but should be here soon,” Havoc speaks up talking about our lawyer.
A timid knock come across our large door and a prospect sticks his head in. They know to never interrupt a meeting, unless we’re being attacked, that it could mean getting put out on the streets if they do, so this must be important.
“Sir…” he speaks weakly. “Um…I just got…um…a call sir…”
“Oh for Christ’s sake, spit it out!” Havoc rants.
“Sir, Riot called and demanded that you’re needed at the house,” the prospect finally gets out.
“Did he say why?” I implore annoyed already.
“He stated that um… it had to do with Raegan…um…there was a lot of crying in the background but said to tell you nine-one-one.”
That’s all he had to say before half the table is up from their seats and moving towards the doors rushing out of the clubhouse. Our bikes roar through the streets not caring if we’re causing a scene.
A million scenarios run through my mind at the moment rushing over what could cause him to call in a nine-one-one. I break out in a cold sweat when we arrive on my street and don’t see Riot or my woman at the house. We park our bikes in front of the house, and I start pacing while Havoc is trying to reach him on his phone.
What feels like hours, but truly only minutes go by before Sutton’s car pulls up, and she gets out. Havoc is peppering her with questions about what happened and her only response is that she got a call from Ivy that Raegan was in trouble. I try to process her words as Raegan’s car finally pulls into the drive. I race over to the passenger side when I see Riot’s the one driving.
Slinging the door open, I quickly crouch down to grab Raegan unbuckling her belt and pulling her over to me. She wraps her arms around my neck and burrows her face in my neck crying. I’m inspecting over every inch of her body as to why she would be crying. When my eyes inch up to her face I see it. There is a large swollen mark across her face, and I can already see that she’ll have a partial black eye from it. Her eyes are red and swollen, probably from crying, and her body is slightly shaking.
Mad doesn’t even begin to describe the feelings I have coursing through my body. A voice in the back of my head starts chanting death, death.
“Who the fuck am I killing?” I can’t stop the rage setting into place. I’ll slaughter whoever the fucker is that dared lay a finger on my woman.
“Let’s get her inside and out of the front yard,” I hear Sutton say, but I’m planted right where I stand.
Slow death. Yep, torture is going to be my way of punishment for the fucker. He’ll wish he’d never been born when I get through with him.
I finally place my hand across her neck and use my thumb to lightly brush against her cheek, but she gives a small wince at my touch. A red haze starts to form over my eyesight. Not wanting to wait any longer I sweep her up in my arms bridal style. I feel her whimpers and know that she’s crying again, and I don’t like it one bit.
After I place her down in my lap on the sofa, I keep her close to me, but it’s time for some answers. Sutton rushes over with a bag of frozen peas and I bring it up to her face.
“Okay, babe, you gotta give me some answers here, because right now I’m about to burn the entire town down.” I try as hard as I can not to come across too pushy.
She looks around the room and I notice every one of my men standing, waiting to find out who our next guest will be out in the shed. Sutton is off to the side wringing her hands looking so concerned for her friend.
