“I think,” Alvarez says, stepping a fraction closer to me, “that men like him run to what they know when they are scared. And what they know is you.”
“The guy abused his own sister. We saved her. And took his patch and burned the ink off his skin before he escaped. If he were here, believe me, I would have killed him myself.”
Alvarez takes a step back, then violently nails Vandal in the ribs with his foot.
The cry of pain echoes through the lot.
If it were just the red dot on my chest, I’d take a chance and throw myself at the man, but the missile launcher aimed at the clubhouse could take down everyone.
“You have seven days,” Alvarez says calmly. “Produce Sidekick or produce the quarter of a million dollars he stole from us. I don’t care which.”
“And if we don’t?” I ask.
Alvarez glances to the clubhouse. To the structure I helped build that has withstood hurricanes. To the men still inside. Everything we’ve built.
Then, back to me.
“I’ll be forced to remove everything you value. Seven days, Knox. Use them wisely. Oh, and should you think to follow metonight, know I’ve set up snipers on our exit route. You’ll be sitting ducks.”
He walks back to his armored car and disappears before everyone else pulls out. The red dot on my chest lifts as the van with the missile launcher disappears.
As soon as it’s gone, I run to Vandal, but Havoc beats me there. He drops to his knees next to Vandal’s head and smooths his best friend’s hair. “I got you, Van.”
I crouch down next to them and take Vandal’s hand. There’s none of the usual solid strength in them, instead they’re cold and clammy. “Brother. It’s Knox. They’ve gone.”
“Can’t fucking see, Prez,” Vandal slurs. There are tears on his cheeks, and…
Jesus Christ.
There are burn marks over his skin, likely from a cattle prod.
“One step at a time, Vandal.” My other hand hovers over him for half a second, but I don’t even know where to start helping him. Maybe we should get an ambulance over here…I don’t care what heat the club faces because of it.
Reaper is there a second later. “We need to get him inside.” He winces because, like me, he knows this is going to hurt. But better to do it now while he’s riding the adrenaline of what happened.
North looms over us. “We should go after them, Prez. Now!”
I make the decision in a split second. “We’re gonna fucking kill them all,” I assure him. “But not now. I don’t know if there are snipers on the road or not, and by the time we figure it out, they’ll be gone.”
“But, Prez,” Lock begins.
“I said no. New enemy. New rules. We save our brother, defend first, and then plan. North, lock this place down.”
“On it,” he says and begins firing off orders.
“We’re gonna lift you on three,” I say as Havoc and I position ourselves to haul Vandal to his feet even though it’s unlikely he can walk well. “One, two, three.”
The guttural yell Vandal makes shoots through every one of us. His body goes tight and his boots drag before he forces himself to move.
“It’s just like that time you fell off the rope swing when we were eleven,” Havoc says, his voice ripe with emotion as we drag Vandal to the stairs. The man is seconds away from tears of his own. “Remember your mom gave me two bucks for carrying you home?”
I don’t know if it’s deliberate that they took down the biggest and strongest among us to make a point, but it worked.
“Stairs, Van,” I say. And with Herculean effort, he pushes his toe forward until his boot feels the first step, then climbs them with us.
Alvarez isn’t an enemy to underestimate.
Fuck, I let this man down. I let my club down. “How the fuck does Alvarez exist in our state, with that kind of bankroll, and we don’t know about it?”
