Family. The word sits strangely with me—these people who knew my parents better than I did claim me as blood without hesitation. It's going to take some getting used to.
6
HAVOC
“It’s been a month,” Gunner mutters. His chair creaks as he leans forward, his hands braced on the table. “How do we not know which one of the Forsaken scum took down Vike?”
“Probably more than one,” Preacher says. “No way two were enough to take our old Prez down.”
“They’re keeping a lid on it,” Riot, my sergeant-at-arms, explains. “They remember the carnage after they got Savannah.”
“I had fewer grey hairs then,” Trigger jokes morbidly, tapping his knuckles against the table.
“I had fewer hairs on my balls,” Viper snickers.
Bone snorts. “Hell, I had hair.”
The guys laugh, but I don’t join in. This has come up at church too many times since Viking was killed. Since his daughter came to live with us, plaguing my fucking thoughts. She’s everywhere I look. Every night, I shower in the bathroom I share with her and jack off with the scent of her shampoo still in the air, my hand fisting my dick as I stroke it, imagining her soft pink lips wrapped around the tip.
I can’t even stomach fucking a sweetbutt to try and forget about Sasha for one goddamned moment. Their perfume smellscheap, their voices grate, their tits are fake, their makeup thick. Shit that never used to bother me before. Because I never used to be a fucking pussy.
“You with us, Prez?”
I blink at Diesel. Now I’m daydreaming like a little girl.
“Yeah,” I grunt. “Ace. Ryder. Get the prospects undercover at Lucky’s Bar in Ashford. See if they hear anything from drunk hangarounds.”
The young enforcers grin at me. “Fucking genius, Prez,” Ace says, Ryder nodding at his side. Those two have been a two-for-one deal since they were kids.
“Now,” I continue. “Monday’s run?”
“Shitty fuckin’ timing with everything,” our road captain, Reaper, says, “but it’s gotta be now. We already have buyers. And the guns will be moving if we’re there to grab them or not.”
I blow air out of my nose. “Yeah. We can’t fuck this up. We paid a lot of money to know which route the truck’s going to take. Viking would be the first one to say we need to untwist our panties and get shit done.”
“Amen,” Tank agrees, slapping the table with his palm.
Some of the younger guys don’t really appreciate what Vike meant to us founding members. Sure, they understand loyalty and family. But to them, this job means money in their pockets.
I nod at Diesel. “Run us through it one more time, VP.”
“Alright, assholes, listen up.” He cracks his neck. “Military guns moving for training exercises. Load’s headed to a base outside Nashville. Truck runs Highway 41 Monday night.”
“Very concise,” Ryder says with a slow clap.
“Read that word in a crossword puzzle?” Bullet asks him.
Diesel snorts. “Implying my little brother knows what a crossword puzzle is.”
Ryder bristles. “Hey. I’m more than just a crack shot and a pussy magnet.”
“Yeah, you’re also delusional,” Ace drawls.
Even I grin this time. I have a giant soft spot for the Cole brothers—Diesel, Ace, and Ryder. Ace may be adopted, but the Coles gave him their name and made him family.
I turn to Riot at my right. “Everyone knows what they’re doing Monday?”
He grunts. “You, Diesel, Ace, and Ryder go for the truck, me, Reap, Bullet, and Viper for the escort. Soon as they’re down, Gun and Trig roll up the cement mixer, we move the load into it, and away it goes across state lines.”
