“Doc’s dead,” he announces. I study the reactions. Freak and Tempest know, of course, as does Words, who disposed of the body. No one else seems surprised. From their reactions to Bron in the clubroom, the word’s spread like wildfire. “It’s common knowledge what he did to Bronwyn, so no need to rehash that. It seems, though, that the Mojave Devils approached him after finding out from Griz the services he provided to us. They lured him in, but not with money. No, they did it with a steady supply of young girls, provided courtesy of their trafficking business. They also persuaded him to spy on our club and provide all the details he knew to them.”
Rattler kicks back his chair, places a foot on the table, and folds his arms. He looks unworried. “Couldn’t be much more than Griz had already told them.”
“No?” Prez’s eyes zoom in on him. “You want to think about that for a moment, Rat? You want to consider all the upgrades we’ve done to fix the holes in our security that Griz knew about? All our new cameras? The new security system Genie installed?”
“With Pippa’s help.” Genie glances at Saint and is rewarded by a chin lift as the VP appreciates credit being given where it’s due.
Rattler shakes his head. “Doc wouldn’t know shit about that.”
“You want to bet your life on it?” Prez hasn’t flinched in his gaze, which is still firmly fixed on Rattler. “Doc was an uptight asshole, but he came here numerous times. Who knows what he picked up when brothers were talking around him? Or what he could see with his own eyes?”
“We’ve got new protocols,” Woody points out.
Prez shifts his attention to him and gives him a nod. “That we have, but park that for a moment. We’ve also not expanded our ranks and are still down to just two prospects.”
“Because we’ve been too fuckin’ suspicious after Griz infiltrated our club.” Rattler rolls his eyes.
“I can’t see how Doc could have made our position much worse. Griz must have told the Mojave Devils everything about us they’d want to know.” Paint leans back in his chair. “So, what’s the reason for the lockdown?”
“Doc was a fuckin’ traitor. Seems no one could trust him. He not only told them about us, but also us about them.” Prez pauses a beat to look around the table. “They’re planning an all-out attack on us. They want to take over our compound and start up another chapter so they can run their trafficking closer to the border. Brothers, they’re not just coming to cause us damage. They’re coming to annihilate everyone and anything in the club.”
There’s uproar around the table. When it calms down, Piston looks up from the notes he’d been taking. “We’ll be ready for them. They’ve not got more manpower than us.”
Freak jumps in without giving Prez the chance to address the secretary’s comment. “They’ve been growing their ranks. Taking on anyone and anybody who might want to join their club withthe promise that when they take us out, they’ll be patched in without prospecting. And when I say anybody, I mean it.”
For a moment, there’s stunned silence, then Stalker blurts out, “Then they won’t be a match for us. They won’t be a cohesive unit.”
“Some of them will be vets with an axe to grind,” Saint tells us. “Probably too kooky to be considered as Kings, but the MDMC doesn’t care who they take on. And some of their latent skills can’t be fuckin’ underestimated.”
“When’s this attack coming?” Words asks in his level, measured tone.
“Doc didn’t know when. But from what he was saying, my guess is it could be imminent.” After Prez’s comment, the room goes quiet.
“Fuck,” Paint exclaims. “I suppose we don’t know exact numbers?”
Tempest shakes his head. “What we’ve got to start thinking about is our weak points, where they could hit us, and make sure our defences are firm.”
Paint raises his hand, and this time he doesn’t look like he’s on firm ground. “We’ve called everyone in. My sister and niece are here. Wouldn’t they have been better kept away from the compound?”
“Griz know about them?”
“Fuck.” This time, the word is hissed out through Paint’s gritted teeth. “He was with me when I dropped in one day.”
I decide it’s time for me to speak up. “Mojave Devils have got an interest in my boy, and we know they’ve been charged with taking out Bronwyn. My take is they’re safer here on the compound, where we’ll fuckin’ die to keep both them and everyone’s families safe.”
Prez raises his chin in my direction. “I stand with Short. I need all brothers and prospects here, not spread aroundprotecting houses off the compound.” His steely gaze moves around the table, encapsulating everyone. “United we stand, divided we fall.”
“Understand but don’t fuckin’ like it, Prez,” Paint states. Words jerks his chin, as he’s also brought family in.
I share their concern, but I’d rather have Bronwyn and Trip with me, where I can protect them. Especially if Doc was right, and one or more of our enemies is already in town. Our house could already be compromised. Yes, they’re better off here. Suddenly, memories of last night come to my mind. It’s hard to forget Bronwyn being so soft and trusting as we consummated our relationship. I want more time to explore her, to feel her under me again, and to begin this life we’re starting together. I’ll be fucked if I let the MDMC take that away from us.
“Can we call in reinforcements from other chapters?” Stalker asks.
Prez nods. “I’ve already got calls out to them, but we’ve got to work on the premise that the Mojave Devils might already be on their way to us. Bigfoot has agreed to offer help.” As he mentions the New Mexico prez, he brushes his hair back from his face. “He’s already had his own brush with the MDMC’s new recruits. The scum of the fuckin’ earth is what he called them.”
“But they won?” Rattler asks.
“Was there any fuckin’ doubt?” Prez roars. “And I’m not thinking we’re going to lose either, but we need to be prepared. One casualty is more than I want to end up with. So, we’re here to plan.”
