“I have an uncle with the Highway Sinners in Clarksdale, Mississippi. If they get on the road right now, they can cover the clubhouse while we go after Zephyr.”
I leaned back in my seat and looked at Crater. I didn’t know a lot about the Highway Sinners. But I knew Steele wouldn’t work with them, and that was a point in their favor.
“Call him.”
Crater pulled out his phone and dialed the number. Without being told, he set the phone on the table and pressed the button to put it on speaker.
“Hey, Jackass. You ready to leave that pussy club and join mine yet?”
“Fuck you, Bandit. I ain’t ever joining your weak-ass club.” Bandit, the president of the Highway Sinners, barked out a laugh, and Crater looked at me with a smile, shaking his head.
“What do you need, kid?”
“Need you and the boys to come to Little Rock.”
“When?”
“Now,” Crater said.
“Your new president as bad as the other one?”
“No, Chasm’s a good man,” Crater said, his eyes on me so I saw the truth in his statement.
“Then why the fuck are you calling me instead of him?”
“Because my fucking men know how to get shit done.”
“Chasm, I presume,” Bandit said with a sneer.
“You willing to help or not?” I asked.
The line was silent for a moment. “The kid is the only reason I’m willing to do this.” The call cut off, and Crater shook his head.
“Asshole,” he muttered.
“Is he coming?” Spider asked.
“He’s coming,” Crater assured us.
“Then we need to work out a plan while we wait.”
I stood outside the clubhouse, watching as bike after bike carrying the Highway Sinners pulled in. Brian was flagging them down, showing them where to park, and I stood next to B and Crater, waiting for Bandit, the president, to walk over.
He was a grizzled old biker with wide shoulders and a grey beard that hung down almost to his waist.
“You bring the whole club?” I asked, looking behind Bandit as more brothers continued to pull in.
Bandit glanced over his shoulder and then grinned. “My nephew asks for help and the whole fuckin’ club rides.”
Bandit stepped forward and pulled Crater into a hug. Then he placed a hand on either side of his face and asked, “What fuckin’ shit are you tangled up in?”
“I’m sure by now you’ve heard about the war a few months back,” I said.
Bandit sighed and dropped his arms. “I’d hoped because it was in Nebraska you weren’t involved.”
“I wasn’t,” Crater confirmed. “But my club was. And it followed us here.”
“Let’s move inside and we can fill you in,” I suggested.
