“Invite only, Jesse,” the prospect replied darkly.
“The Rev really cutting out the Highwaymen? That how it’s really going to go down?” I asked, side-eyeing Casa and making sure he noted exactly what I had. By the hard look on his face, he wasn’t blind to the fact that we probably had shooters on us right that second, which was exactly what I had worried about.
“Nothing to do with the Rev. New club in town don’t want the Highwaymen involved in this,” the prospect replied, swallowing noisily.
“Since when does the Reverend take orders from a new club?”
“Since the new club holds all the cards.”
“What’s your name?” I asked him.
“Anthony,” he replied, raising his chin to me.
“Well listen up, Anthony. We need into that meet, and we need in right the fuck now—direct orders from The Highwaymen’s president Hardy. I don’t care who this club is or who the fuck is running it. Right now, I don’t even give a fuck what they’ve told you to do. This is about respect, and if we don’t get in there’s going to be a whole world of problems, for you, for your club, and for whoever else is at that meet. You feel me?”
Anthony looked over at the younger kid, who was sweating and looking like he might pass out any second. Goddamn it, poor kid hadn’t signed up to go to war; he’d wanted to join a club and belong. That’s what the fucking brotherhood was all about—riding and having a family that would do anything for you. But he’d fallen in with the wrong side, and now he was going to pay for it. I hated this shit.
“I feel you, but I can’t do it, Jesse,” Anthony said, looking regretful. “We got orders to follow from our president, and those orders say it’s invite only.” He looked uncomfortable, despite his hard stance. I had to respect that; at least he showed loyalty and a backbone. Those were things you couldn’t teach a prospect. They either had it or they didn’t.
“Let’s just blow this shit to high hell,” Pipes snarled from next to me. “Brothers gotta be expecting it if they’re going to be disrespecting the Highwaymen like this.”
Anthony and the nervous prospect looked to one another, their fear pouring from them in bucket loads. Poor fucks.
I turned to Pipes. “Now just hang on a minute, Pipes. No need to start blowing shit up. I’m just talking to Anthony, and I’m pretty certain that we can come to an amicable solution that doesn’t involve anyone dying tonight.” I looked at Anthony, watching him white-knuckle the gun in his hands. Fucking hoped he had the safety on. “At least for now, right, Anthony?”
He grunted a yes, but his gaze was fixed on Pipes now, the real threat in his eyes. Good thing too. The two men were glaring at each other, and I had to hand it to the prospect—he’d make a good brother when he was fully patched in, because it was obvious that he wasn’t backing down for nothing. Well, he would if he lived that long that is.
I looked up to the left again, catching sight of a shadow moving from within the building, the small sliver of moonlight reflecting back of the eyepiece of a sniper. A sniper that was aimed on us.
The whole thing was worse than I’d first realized. If we had guns on us on either side we were pretty much fucked, but there was still a chance. But this was snipers. That was some serious shit right there. And it spoke volumes to me about the sort of men we were dealing with. Because that wasn’t the Rev’s way.
I looked back to the prospects, noting that Anthony had seen my stare. He almost looked relieved, like he’d been hoping I’d notice someone was up there.
“All right, brothers,” I said finally, making my decision. “We’re leavin’.”
“Jesse?” Pipes said my name, his voice tinged with total confusion. A Highwayman never backed down from a fight, yet there we were driving away with our tails between our legs. Or at least that’s what it looked like.
“It’s all right, brother. Gotta trust me on this one,” I replied calmly, hoping he’d follow my orders, because if he didn’t we were all going down. No sense dying for nothing. I was in this for the long game, and we’d achieve nothing if we opened up on those prospects then. If anything, it could be more damaging to our club.
“The Highwaymen don’t fear, but the world should fear the Highwaymen,” Pipes quoted our motto to me as he turned to glare at me, and I wanted to punch the stupid fuck in the head. Who did he think he was, quoting my own shit back to me? I knew the words, and I knew what they meant. Damn things were etched into my skin, right across my back. But at the moment this was bigger than just standing up to a couple of pissant prospects.
Every inch of me was vibrating with the urge to break some bones, but it was more important to hold my shit together right then so I gritted my teeth and glared back at Pipes, waiting for the stupid fuck to back down. Man didn’t know who he was talking to if he thought that shit was okay.
“Okay,” Dom said, taking the lead. “You heard Jesse, now let’s get the fuck out of here then.”
“Tell me one thing,” I said to Anthony as my brothers turned their bikes around.
Anthony nodded his head, relief flooding his features.
“What’s the name of the club back there?”
Anthony smiled, like he had been waiting for the question. He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to me. “Been told to give you that,” he said.
I shoved it in my pocket, none too pleased with how things had turned out, but someone was in those buildings to our left and right and I didn’t feel like dying without finding out what the hell was going on. For the sake of my club, I’d sort this shit out.
“I’ll be seeing you, Anthony,” Pipes said, looking back over his shoulder, his deep voice gravelly and full of unspent rage.
I took one last look over my shoulder before we sped back off the way we’d come in. About a mile down the road I pulled over to one side and my brothers followed suit. I climbed off my bike and walked over to Pipes before reaching out and dragging him from his bike. He clawed at my hands and kicked out, but I threw him to the ground and pulled out my gun before aiming it at his head.
