CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE
*Coty “Coyote” - Vice President*
There are a lot of elements about this club life that fucking test my patience, but having to hold back and strike strategically when going in guns blazing is so much more enjoyable is by far the most challenging. Especially when leading events key me up the way they have.
As soon as Brodi let the rest of us in on the plan, I was fucking on board. What better way to start a biker brawl than by provoking the Rolling Stones during an event when none of them would dare slap leather? Not much beats that scheme. I only had one stipulation: I wanted to be the one to take a swing at Stoney. Kal was better off not crossing that line anyway. Especially since I have been itching to maim him since finding out about the underhanded shit he pulled with my girl when her original contract states very clearly that she is inviolable.
The addition of announcing our new “ownership” of Lace publicly came unexpectedly, though. Fire burned inside my veins at first, but it wasn’t a blaze high enough that a few sucker punches couldn’t snuff out temporarily. Kal said we would all talk tomorrow; my guess is this bold move and everything connected to it will be fully explained. It better be. My patience has worn thin enough as it stands.
After taking care of Stoney, I turn on Foster, my anger fucking boiling and spitting. Just as my fingers curl into his cut, Kal staggers upward, yanks me away from him, and whistles for our men to fall back.
We hotfoot it straight to our bikes and burn rubber. Despite the risk, I break formation to look for Lace, doing a rapid loop around the entire perimeter, thankful the place is now significantly clearer since a good amount of the crowd scattered. Neither she nor Jess are anywhere to be seen. Needing to get the hell out of here before the risk of me sticking around escalates, I hurry to catch back up with my club. They stopped to regroup about a mile down the road. First thing I say on my dismount is, “Stage crew got the contestants out of the way, right?”
“Yeah,” Baylor answers, having been the least involved, lying low at the edge of the brawl. “Lace popped out for a second after they were herded off the stage, but then she and Jess tucked away.”
I know Lace can handle her own, but that knowledge is not near enough to appease my worry.
“Jess probably gave her a lift,” Kal chimes in, digging in his pocket and removing his phone. He checks the screen, and his eyes flick up toward our group. “Vee is calling,” Kal warns.
The adrenaline high zaps out of every single member standing here. A call is almost never a good thing. One from Vee right now is even worse.
“Yeah?” Kal answers, grimacing as he presses a hand against his battered ribs. The call is short; they usually are. His attention returns to the screen. He thumbs in some stuff then pockets the phone.
Mine buzzes just as he starts clueing everyone in. “Says they might have a trail. I sent you the coordinates.” Kal inclines his head toward me, knowing I want to go ride around and find Lace anyway.
After checking my phone for the location and plugging it into my GPS, I get right back on my bike and immediately head that direction. Should take all of a minute to get there, since it is right around the corner on the road that runs behind the saloon. As soon as I get to the intersection, my task is done before it hardly starts. The black Duc belonging to that woman, Remi, is to blame. She is stopped about a block down, parked on the side of the road. The webbed light coming from a cell phone screen shines off her black helmet. She pockets the phone, turns her lights back on, and pulls a U-turn to head my way. Crow and Hayes are pulled off the side of the road ahead. Comfortable with my assessment, I shoot Vee a quick text giving him the go ahead, then ride over to the Revelry crew.
I stop between their vehicles and dip my head down to peer inside the Supra. “Hey thanks for the help back there,” I scoff at Burke. Bastards fucking took flight after first punch.
“That’s not our war, Coyote.” Burke sneers my nickname. We share little to no similarities, aside from the fact that our nicknames were given by the same woman.
“Yeah, well, that’s about to change. Better pick a color.”
A chime comes from the Bimmer, and I look that way. Hayes pushes up his glasses with a knuckle and picks up his phone. “You need to get away from here. Best not linger,” he says absently, swiping the notification off his screen.
Fucker is right. Unfortunately. But then he says something I am 110 percent not fucking expecting. “Lace hitched a ride with Remi a minute ago. Best go see what your back warmer is up to.”
As if speaking of the devil, Remi comes up from behind and pulls in behind Crow. I dart a glance over my shoulder. She is fighting with her helmet, having heard what Hayes said and not at all damn happy about it. It serves as a moment of humor when my heart is about to fucking explode out of my chest. That area would be completely innocent any other day, but not right now. She is way too damn close to an assignment locat—
Wait…
I wrench my phone out of my pocket and get a closer look at the exact spot, having only glanced at it in general at first. My entire body goes boneless for a heartbeat. Fighting against the manicness building in my thoughts in order to keep a level head and not cause a scene, I start mentally counting down from five. Before I even get to three, Remi is stomping past, head ducking down to give Hayes a good talking to.
I don’t hear what she says, though, because my pulse roars in my ears. Somehow I manage a somewhat believable mocking laugh and say, “Good luck growing those balls back; last I heard they only come at birth.” Then I twist the throttle and barrel toward the assignment.