“Don’t gotta blow up the whole damn mountain, just enough to make it uninhabitable,” Shade said in his quiet but very effective tone.
Even doing that would still take a lot of explosives. “They’re redneck roaches,” Whip said. “They might be able to survive the apocalypse. Some of them certainly survived the feds.”
“Blowin’ up their compound and levelin’ their buildings will,” Rook lifted one finger, “one, be a warnin’ that we’re done with their shit.” He lifted a second one. “Two, it’ll make it so much fuckin’ harder for them to rebuild.”
“But not impossible,” Whip said under his breath. Rook caught what he’d whispered and shot him an impatient look.
“Unless we make it so hard for them to rebuild, it ain’t worth their time and they move on,” Shade said.
“Riiiiiight. And a fuck-ton of explosives won’t bring the fuckin’ feds swarmin’, right?” Trip ripped off his baseball cap again and, out of habit, scraped his fingers through his longish hair. “Who in here got explosives trainin’? Who in this fuckin’ room can afford the cost for the amount we’d need? Who in here wants to be the one purchasin’ the shit needed? I got a fuckin’ son now. The fuck if I’ll go back inside willingly. And you all know what the hell that means.”
A murmur moved through the group because they all knew what that meant and most likely felt the same.
Whip had never spent a day inside and never planned on it. He, Judge and Deacon were the only members of the Fury who hadn’t. Mostly because of luck, definitely not because they hadn’t done anything to deserve it.
Just the shit they’d done to the Shirleys alone would’ve most likely caught them a lifetime bid in prison.
Trip wasn’t done. “Wanna keep my family safe but also wanna be around to raise my son. Want you all to be around to raise your sons and daughters. What we do affects them, too. Let’s not forget that.”
“Then, what other solution you got?” Dutch called out from the back of the pack. “We’re willin’ to hear ‘em, prez. I got a grandbaby to protect. They touched Duchess once, they ain’t touchin’ her again, swear to Christ.”
Another grumble moved through the agitated group.
Trip blew out a breath. “Get that.” He slapped his hat back on his head and scrubbed his hands down his face. “It’s a crazy fuckin’ idea.”
“Don’t know how else to do it other than how we intended to do last time before the feds interrupted our plan. Didn’t like it then, don’t like it now,” Judge said.
“Agreed. It was way too fuckin’ risky.” Trip shook his head. “And now there are more homes and kids on this property, not to mention our sisterhood has grown.”
“Don’t know how else to handle them, then,” Deacon said. “Poison their water supply?”
“No, that’ll be too slow,” Rev said next. “We need to hit them hard, hit them fast and hit them all at once.”
“Once we get Red’s blood out of there,” Sig reminded them. “That’s gotta happen first.”
“That could create a complete fuckin’ shitstorm,” Easy said, standing next to Whip.
“Not could. Will,” Judge confirmed. “Everyone in this fuckin’ room knows that.”
“The Originals woulda never let this shit get this fuckin’ far,” Dutch grumbled.
“And that’s why only two of you remain. You forget that part?” Trip reminded the oldest Fury member.
“Might have a solution,” Judge said more quietly than normal. He was pulling on his long beard since Jury was out of reach.
The Barn went completely silent.
“Let’s hear it,” Sig demanded, hands on his hips. “Better be a good one, too.”
“Fuck you, Sig.” The enforcer’s response was louder and half a snarl.
Sig’s response was a full snarl, reminding Whip of Cujo whenever he got anywhere near the little rat bastard. “No, fuck you, Judge. Been fuckin’ sittin’ on your ginormous paws not doin’ shit, more worried about your kids than this goddamn club. Time for you to do your fuckin’ job or step down.”
Everyone surrounding Whip took a collective breath and held it.
“You forget you’re the VP, Sig?” Judge jabbed a finger toward the ceiling. “You sit at that table, too. So, shut your fuckin’ mouth. You don’t think I want all this shit over with? You want me to act like Ox? That what you want? Just rush up that mountain, wreak havoc and say fuck the consequences? ‘Cause that would be super fuckin’ easy. But you know who it wouldn’t be easy for? Our women and children, if we all end up dead or livin’ in concrete containers for the rest of our lives. ‘Cause with the record you got, you ain’t gettin’ out next time ’til they haul your ass out in a pine box, wearin’ a toe tag.”
“So, what’s the damn solution, then?” Sig asked.
Judge shook his head. “Need to make a phone call. Ain’t gonna say shit yet ’til I know it’s a viable solution. Also need to run it past you and Trip first. Think that’s the smart way to do it. Gonna take a shitload of scratch, though. Already know that. Don’t know how much exactly but I can tell you our asses are gonna be raw for a while.”