"So you've all been playing along?" I asked.
"We'd put up a little resistance at first," Pops explained. "Just so they didn't think we were acting. Let them 'convince' us how shitty you were. And then we fell in line to keep appearances. We knew you'd be back."
"Did you know that Chewy was the one trying to take out the Henchmen?" I asked. "Guess he didn't get there yet," I said to their shocked faces. "You can imagine how my father felt about that," I added.
"What's the plan?"
"The first part was getting me in here to make sure I was right about you five. And see if there are any others. Are there?" I pressed. "Maybe they are acting too?"
"No," Dutch said, shaking his head, squashing any last bit of my hope. "Not one is loyal to you like they should be."
"Damnit," I hissed, zipping up my bag. "Okay."
"So, is the mother chapter on their way?" Pops asked.
"He's letting the Henchmen handle it," I told them, reaching down to pull the front of my t-shirt down, showing them the wire taped to my chest. "As soon as I give the—" I started, hearing footsteps coming closer.
Panic flooded my system as Junior's eyes widened.
"Bathroom," I whispered to the others who were almost certainly not supposed to be there. "It's okay," I told Junior as he moved all the way down to appear to be keeping an eye on me like he was supposed to.
The door opened, and there were footsteps on the stairs as I pretended to re-zip my bag.
"The fuck is taking so long down here?" Chewy asked, followed by two of the men I used to party with, eat meals with, go on rides with. Now they looked at me like I was a stranger. No, it was worse than that. They looked at me like I was gunk on their shoes, something they stepped in and didn't like the smell of.
"Women," Junior grumbled as Chewy looked around. Almost as if he sensed something was up.
"You know," Diesel said, moving forward, getting uncomfortably close. "I'm starting to think maybe Tank was right," he said, making my stomach turn over as his hand raised, grabbing my chin, and applying enough pressure to pull my lower lip down. "Thought about fucking this mouth a million times over the years," he said, getting a snicker from the others.
"You try and I'll bite it off," I said, voice tight. I had my safe word, but I wasn't going to use it unless absolutely necessary.
"Oh, big talk," Diesel sneered. "Did you forget, bitch, you're not in charge anymore. If I want to do this," he said, grabbing my tit, "I can. And you can't do shit about it."
"Except this," I said, bringing a knee up to his balls, then grabbing his neck, and swinging him around, knocking his head against my dresser before releasing him.
"Not smart," Chewy declared, clucking his tongue and shaking his head. "Now we have to teach you a lesson," he told me, reaching for his belt.
"Santa," I muttered, a word that made Chewy freeze for a second, brows knitting.
"What?"
"Santa. That's how we figured out it was you who hired a hitman to take out the Henchmen president. Someone saw you with that Kevin kid I put in the ground. He said you looked like a red-headed Santa with a braided beard. I never got a chance to tell you how fucking stupid that looks."
"Who the fuck do you think you are?" Chewy roared.
"A woman who has about a dozen men rushing into the clubhouse right now," I declared, shooting him a saccharine smile that made his face freeze for the barest of seconds before he was turning, before he was running.
"Do something," he demanded to Junior who waited just long enough for Chewy to burst upstairs to reach into his back pocket.
"Okay," he agreed, shrugging, cocking his gun, and shooting Diesel right in the head. Double tap. Gone. "Did something," he said, giving me a smirk as the others rushed out of the bathroom.
"No. I need you guys to stay down here unless you hear me call for you. The Henchmen don't know you by sight. And they have kill orders when I used the code word," I explained.
"You're not going out there either," Dutch said, moving to stand in front of me.
"I have to," I told him, grabbing him, and shoving him out of the way before rushing up the stairs and into the chaos as the shots started to ring out.
The Henchmen had silencers, but the Vultures didn't, making my stomach knot at the idea of the police getting word and being on their way.
"Tank," Fallon said, appearing out of nowhere. "Which one is Tank?"
"There," I said, pointing. "But I want him."
It was too late, though, because Fallon was closing the short distance to where Tank was crouched down by the side of the bar.