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Giving him a curt nod, I didn’t buy his words. Hal and the former Black Rainbow members likely had no interest in taking over our operation. But their sons had absolutely wanted this shit. Not just the ones who attacked, but the young men still in Baton Rouge. Those upcoming funerals would either give them a wake-up call or a reason to fight harder.

Once I could no longer see Hal’s taillights, I found a dark spot in the brush and called Zodiac. After giving him the lowdown on who was dead and who wasn’t, I asked for updates on everyone’s locations.

“Clint, Lula, and Nine are ten minutes out. Clint’s uncle works for the state police, and he’s leading the team on their way. I’d say they’re forty minutes out. Are you safe?”

“Yeah, assuming no more Baton Rouge fucks show up.”

“Where’s Goldie?”

“In the woods. I don’t want to move her until I know I have backup.”

“Ojai and Sugar are keeping tabs on the old guys. We’ve got Fuzzy at the clubhouse, keeping watch. I don’t know if we should have our people riding north to Little Memphis or west to Little Rock.”

“Keep them where they are. If the old guys decide to lash out, it’ll be in Baton Rouge.”

I felt Zodiac wanting to say more. No doubt he was curious if I was keeping any other secrets. Or maybe he was worried about me.

No doubt, Zodiac was getting hit with questions from his wife, Elle. I thought I heard their baby boy in the background. I assumed their new house—more like a damn compound—was awake and on alert.

“I hear a helicopter,” I told my president.

“Keep me informed.”

Hanging up, I slid my phone into my jacket and began moving toward where the helicopter landed in a nearby field. I texted Goldie to let her know I’d return soon. When she didn’t respond, I began to worry.

Clint was the first out of the helicopter. The Crimson Guard’s president was only thirty and gave off a pretty boy vibe, but the man was smart and shifty.

I gave him a quick rundown on the dead bodies and how I let Hal leave. Clint barely reacted to anything I said, remaining calm in that fake way he had about himself.

Lula Reed was a member of the Crimson Guard, a beast of a lawyer, and Clint’s older cousin. Despite her beauty and pregnancy, she remained an intimidating woman.

Alon Tooker was the youngest kid in his family and went by the name “Nine.” His dark hair was longer than Clint’s. Tonight, he hid it under a knit cap. Unlike Clint and Lula, Nine did little to hide his rage.

“Goldie’s leg is messed up,” I explained. “I’ll need to carry her out of the woods.”

“We can do it,” Nine insisted.

“You can help,” I replied and turned away. “Someone should stay with the bodies.”

Following me down the embankment, Nine didn’t ask questions. I backtracked to where I left Goldie, ducked under the tangled trees, and said her name.

My light found her waiting in the darkness. Her smile mimicked the relief I felt inside.

“I couldn’t remember the code to open your phone,” Goldie explained as I pointed the flashlight around to figure out the best way to extract her from this snarled maze.

“That’s okay. Nine is with me. We’ll get you out of here.”

“I can crawl.”

“Your leg is fucked up.”

“I know, but I can still crawl,” Goldie insisted and dragged herself closer. Spotting her friend, she said, “Hey, Nine. Are your sisters okay?”

“They’re banged up and pissed, but fine. How are you feeling?”

“Like I need to see a doctor.”

“We’ve got the helicopter. You’ll be at the hospital soon.”