Chapter Twenty-nine:
present day
Jesse
The three of us rode toward the supposed meet between the Reverend, the Razorbacks, Hardy and whoever else it was in our club that had betrayed Butch and the rest of their brothers.
My anger fueled me in a way it hadn’t before, and I thought of all the ways I would make my supposed prez and brothers suffer. I would burn the Devil’s Highwaymen tattoo off the traitor’s backs before killing them slowly.
We left Parker to head home, deciding it was best if he kept a low profile in case shit went south when we got to the meet. No point in all four of us dying. Besides, the fact that Parker was important to my brother hadn’t gone completely unnoticed to me, and if he was important to Butch, it mattered that he stayed alive. Therefore I’d do my best to keep him living and fucking breathing if I could. I didn’t know what would happen when we got where we were going; I only knew that I was going to put as many of them in the ground as possible.
This club, these men, they were my entire family now.
My life.
My. Fucking. World.
I had stewed in my own self-misery for the past couple of months and they’d had my back, and now it was my time to have theirs. The veil of guilt and shame that had clouded my judgment since Butch’s death had lifted, and I was wide awake and ready to do what needed to be done.
I had a fire in my belly and I was ready to unleash hell on any motherfucker who stood in my way.
Hardy hadn’t just betrayed me, or Butch; he’d betrayed us all. He’d made our club look weak, corrupted us from the inside out, and there was no way was I going to let that go. My only thought at the moment was how many of my brothers he’d turned against the club. How bad had the poison seeped into the Highwaymen’s blood to make them turn on their brothers so easily?
As we rode toward the meet, I thought about Rider. He was our VP. Man had a kid and an old lady—Charlie; bitch already hated my guts, but she’d be hating them a fuck of a lot more if I had to kill her old man. I’d always thought he was a good man and a good brother. He was quiet, unassuming. Basically he was the fucking opposite of Charlie. But the man got shit done when it needed to get done. I would take no pleasure in killing him, but I’d do it all the same if it got vengeance for Butch. I prayed I wouldn’t need to, though. Yet every road I drove down led me back to him, because he’d given me the orders to go check out the warehouse that night. And Gauge…how the fuck had he missed all of this happening? He was our Sergeant-at-arms, and the only way I could see this going was with me putting a bullet in his head, effectively killing him and my relationship with Laney. Because there was no way he couldn’t have known. The thought sickened me.
The meet was supposed to take place in the old granite quarry, so we drove the bikes as close as we dared before parking them and walking the rest of the way. Up ahead, several bikes and a police car came into view, and I knew we’d all be thinking the same thing: the Razorbacks were getting fucking arrogant, turning up to a meet with their true colors on show like that. Fuckers wouldn’t be arrogant for much longer, that was for sure.
Hills of old granite were piled all around, giving us decent cover, so we headed in the direction of voices, cresting the hill closest to them. I leaned with my back against it and pulled my gun out, and looked across at Casa and Dom. They nodded, both of them ready to do what needed to be done, but all of us dreading who we’d see on the other side.
Shouting broke out behind us and Dom frowned. Shit was going down. When I looked over at Casa, the crazy bastard was grinning.
“Maybe they’ll kill each other off,” he said, still grinning.
“And take all the fun away?” I sneered back. “Fuck that.”
I stood up to head over the hill and end that shit and so did my brothers when a gun went off and we all dropped back down. I started to slide down the quarry, almost sliding to the bottom of it in surprise, but I managed to get a grip and stop myself around half way. More shouting ensued and we started to scramble back up. An engine started, and when we looked round, two men were getting in the police cruiser and driving away.
Dom started to make a move on them, but I grabbed his arm and stopped him, shaking my head no. “They’ll get theirs. Today we deal with Hardy,” I gritted out and he nodded.
We stood up and started toward the top of the hill again, because it was now or never, and never wasn’t a possibility in this lifetime. Hardy was facing away from us, shouting at Rider, who was on his knees, blood trailing from the top of his arm. Pipes was there, a gun aimed at our VP while he bounced from foot to foot eager to spill more blood. Another body lay cold on the ground, but I couldn’t tell who it was from that distance.
We piled down the other side and started to run and slide almost equally, not giving a shit how much noise we made anymore. Rider saw us first, his head turning in our direction and a look of relief washing over him as Pipes and Hardy both turned to look in our direction. Dom wasted no time and fired his gun at Pipes as we slid down the other side of the granite hill, and Hardy pulled out his gun and fired at me. Of course he fucking did—wouldn’t expect any less from him. Lucky for me that I had a good aim and I shot out Hardy’s left kneecap before he could get a decent shot in.
Shots flew out over my head as I tucked and rolled the rest of the way down, before coming to a sliding stop at the bottom and getting right back up and aiming my gun at him. Casa shot at Hardy’s arm, and our president dropped his gun as the bullet when through his bicep in a spray of blood. I stalked over, keeping my gun level with his head. Hardy was on the ground reaching for his gun as he groaned into the dirt. He looked up as I got closer and quashed his pain in favor of scrambling for his gun. But I was quicker and I kicked it far out of his reach.
The man that was supposed to be my father glared up at me, his face contorted in hatred for his youngest son.
Dom had Pipes by the back of his jacket and was dragging him toward me, and Casa was helping Rider up. The man’s face was bruised and swollen and his arm was shot to hell and back.
I looked back down at Hardy and sneered. “Looks like you had a visit from the local cops. Thought we’d come and give you a hand, Prez,” I said, disgust in my tone.
“Get on with it, you stupid bastard. I ain’t got time for you or anything you have to say,” Hardy said darkly.
I crouched down, my gun still aimed at him and his eyes flitting to it before coming back to mine. Dom had Pipes on his knees next to us, holding him upright. Poor fucker was bleeding out by the second; wouldn’t last for much longer. Not that I gave a shit about his death, but I needed words with him first.
I looked across at Pipes, watching as his eyes began to roll back into his head. Casa grabbed him and slapped him around the face, bringing him back around before he could pass out. Pipes focused in on me.
“What did he promise you?” I asked. “He promise you VP status? Money? Or are you just a traitorous fuck for no good reason?”
