“We need to get down there, trap or not,” Rider said, swaying from side to side. He looked sick. Sick and fucking tired. “I’ve got contacts down there. Let me speak to them and see if they know anything.”
“No, just stay out of it!” Dom said, more aggressively than any of us had ever heard him speak to Rider before. Rider was our VP and he’dalways had our respect, but somewhere along the past six months, it had gone. Ithought it had been just me that had noticed what had been happening, so it was almost arelief to know that others had too.
Rider and Dom stared at one another, neither man wanting to back down. But since Rider could barely stand up, it was him that eventually sagged his tired body down into achair and looked away.
“Y’all right there, brother? You need another pill or two?” Dom growled before shaking his head in disgust. “You’re afucking joke. Just get the fuck out, no one wants you here.”
Rider looked up, his gaze filled with sorrow. “Ican help.”
“You can’teven help your fucking self, brother,” Dom scoffed. “Go find acorner somewhere and pop apill. You’re not welcome here.”
“Easy,” Iinterrupted, and Dom shot me an angry glare.
“You another one that’sgoing to pretend we don’tsee what’sgoing on with him? That we don’tsee how fucked up he is?” Dom accused me, and Ishook my head no.
“No one is pretending anything. But now ain’tthe time to air this shit. Right now we need to focus on getting Jolie back.” Iglanced at Rider, who was currently stumbling back up to his feet.
“Idon’tneed to listen to this shit,” he mumbled, making his way to the door.
“No, but you will soon enough,” Shooter barked, and Rider turned to face him. “Just as soon as we get her back, we’ll be having words, brother. Don’tyou go anywhere.”
“Fuck you. Fuck all of you. None of you get it!” Rider yelled, and stormed back into the clubhouse. “Motherfuckers!”
Shooter and Ishared alook that said more than words ever could.Heavy was the head that wore the crown.Aphrase had never seemed more apt.
Shooter, ignoring Rider’sranting, headed into the clubhouse and addressed the rest of the club. “All right, we’ve got eyes on Jolie. In case any of you weren’tfully aware, it looks like the Vipers took her and they’re holding her down at the marina in Thunderbolt. We need every able-bodied man packing plenty of heat, because this ain’tgoing to be asimple snatch and grab. As you know, the Vipers ain’taclub like any other, but they need taking down. They could have killed Gauge and now they’ve taken abrother’ssister—Iwon’tstand for that, and Idoubt any of you will either.” He sighed and dragged ahand down his beard. “But, for what it’sworth, we think this could be atrap. Everything they’ve done up to this point has been to get us there. To set whatever this shit is in motion.” He pulled out his cigarettes and lit one before blowing out aheavy plume of smoke as eh looked out at the club.
Dom stood next to him and looked across the quiet club, the many eyes of our brothers staring back at him. “That’smy little sister,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I’mgoing to get her back, with or without you.”
Shooter patted him on the shoulder, though his gaze stayed trained on the clubhouse. “This is up to you, brothers. Iwon’tbe aman like Hardy; Iwon’tforce you to go on what might be asuicide mission, because Ihave no clue what’swaiting for us when we get there. But what Ido know is that if this were any of your families I’dbe doing this same thing.”
Casa had come to stand by me, and despite him rocking back and forth on his heels, he was silent as we waited on our brothers to make their decision.
The clubhouse door swung open and we turned to look as Beefcake, Greasy, Bridge, and ten other Backstreet Bangers walked into the club. Beefcake walked up to Shooter and held out ahand.
“We’ve got your back, brother,” Beefcake said, and Shooter took his hand and shook it. Beefcake faced the club. “The Bangers will ride with the Highwaymen right into Hades, if that’swhat needs to happen.”
My chest filled with pride as my brothers raised their glasses and cheered. Men got to their feet and raised their fists in the air, all eyes on Shooter. Goddamn Butch would have been so proud of Shooter right then.
“Whoever is coming, get your shit together. We’re rolling out in ten.” Shooter stalked to the bar, where Devlin and Apryl were already lining up as many shot glasses with whiskey as they could. Men scattered to get their stuff ready, and Iwas satisfied to see that no one in the club, barring Rider, had chosen to stay behind. That was what Iloved most about the club—the solidarity. The brotherhood that brought grown men together to stand shoulder to shoulder through life and death. That was something that Iwould take to my grave with asmile on my face, no matter how swiftly that death might come.
Shooter picked up ashot glass, as did Beefcake and I.
“This is going to be abloodbath. You know that, right?” Beefcake said, throwing ashot to the back of his throat.
“Iknow,” Shooter replied, his words sounding heavy with grief already. “Ineed to call Laney. Ineed to speak to her before all this goes down.” He pulled out his cell and began to walk away.
“Shooter…” Icalled out to him.
He turned and looked at me, but Icouldn’tthink of what else to say so Ishrugged almost helplessly. Laney was my kid, my daughter, the only blood Ihad left in the world. She hated my guts 99% of the time, but Iloved her every second of every day despite her hate for me.
“I’ve got you,” Shooter said, nodding at me. “I’ll tell her.”
Ididn’tneed to say anything; he just got it. Shooter headed into his office, closing the door behind him, and Iwatched, his expression hard as he spoke. They’dpromised each other no more lies, and with ababy on the way and their relationship hanging in the balance already, he was no doubt telling her everything. It went against club rules, but then again everything about Shooter went against club rules. He was the youngest president in club history. He’dkilled the previous president—his own father—yet he ruled the club gaining more respect than I’dever seen. Old beyond his years, Iwondered how different his life might have been if Hardy would have been the father he’dactually deserved instead of the traitor he had been.
Casa stumbled out from one of the back rooms, sweat trailing down the sides of his face as he picked up ashot glass and threw the liquid to the back of his throat.
“Yeah!” he cheered, and picked up another.
