There are murmurs of it not being a problem and being happy to help because that’s what chapters are supposed to do.
“When I messaged King about the problem we were having with Mateo Alvarez, he was clear. We could pay our way out of this, effectively giving in to his demands. Or we can hold our ground, with your help.” I look out over the water I’ve protectedfor nearly two decades. “But I honestly believe that if we don’t take this fight to Alvarez, we’ll be his bitches forever.”
There’s hearty agreement from the crowd.
“Damn right,” Niro shouts.
“Fuck paying that prick,” someone adds.
I let it build, for a moment, the agreement. The aggrieved feelings that will help fuel an attack on Alvarez. It’s the fine thread of violence that binds all one-percenters together.
Then, I lift my hand, and the deck comes to order. “He gave us seven days like it was a fucking courtesy. But I’m not interested in sitting on my hands while he decides how he wants to come at us.”
I glance at my men. All of them nod in agreement. Halo does too. So does Cat.
“We move first,” I say finally.
“How?” Saint asks.
Sunny chuckles. “Lock’s girlfriend works at the FBI.”
Lock shakes his head. “Not my girlfriend.”
“You guys dancing with the FBI?” Mallow, the enforcer of the Nashville chapter, asks. His road name came from his momma, an old lady, who, upon accidentally finding out her son had killed three members of a rival gang with a baseball bat, said that he was a natural-born killer but was a marshmallow on the inside.
“Not dancing with anyone,” Lock mutters.
“Yet,” Sunny says.
Lock flips Sunny the bird.
I roll my eyes. “Just explain it.”
Lock sighs like we’re all idiots. “Alvarez has a main operation in Miami that everyone has their eyes on. But my contact suggests there’s evidence he’s running a secondary operation out of a marina about ten miles south. Smaller crews, less security. He rotates through there every few days. They suspect the mostvaluable cargo flows through there and the bigger, showier op is just to throw the Feds off.”
“Which it obviously hasn’t if they’re aware,” Saint says. “If they’ve got eyes on it, how do we go in there without getting caught up in an FBI sting?”
“Spoken like a true former FBI agent,” Halo says with a chuckle.
Lock takes a swig of his beer. “It’s new intel. They’re trying to get all the right sign-offs for a takedown of the location. We have a three-day window before they start, but based on the shipping details, they’re going to come through tomorrow night.”
Saint crosses his arms. “It’s a bad sign if the FBI is dotting and crossing everything. Suggests that Alvarez has money and power and connections, so they want to do everything right.”
Mallow huffs. “Is theformerFed agreeing that they don’t usually do everything right?”
Saint turns around and grins. “Wouldn’t be a biker if they did.”
Mallow slaps Saint’s shoulder and laughs. “Fucking right.”
“Still don’t like being in bed with the Feds,” one of the older guys says.
“Good job Lock does, or we wouldn’t have the intel,” Havoc jokes. It’s good to see him smiling. He looked ruined when he came back from taking Vandal’s mom to the hospital to see him.
I turn to the group. “We hit him tomorrow night. Hard and fast. En masse. We take out his men. We take out his product. We decimate his op. I don’t want to start a war, but he brought it to us when he pulled that shit on Vandal and then demanded a quarter of a million bucks from us because of some guy who hasn’t been an Outlaw for four years.”
“What’s the plan?” Saint asks.
“Most senior ranking member of each club come to church to figure out a plan. Ridge will be road captain because he knowsthis area better than anyone. The rest, enjoy our hospitality. Would like to think we have the best clubhouse out of any of them, especially on a day like this.”
