“He told me you wouldn’t be easy to sway.”
“Why the fuck are you here?”
“Because we have a mutual problem. In good faith, I brought you Acid. It’s my understanding you been looking for him.”
“Are you here for her?”
“I’m here for all of you.”
“Boss,” Ghost whispered. “We’ve got an audience.”
I noticed the entire club was standing outside watching our exchange. Everyone was armed, ready for Reaper to say the word. The only one missing was Phantom, who I knew was watching from the safety of her office.
“I was asked to give you this as a show of good faith,” the man said, holding out his hand.
In his hand was a long brass bullet.
None of us moved.
We knew who it was from.
It was his calling card.
Reaper lowered his gun and picked up the brass bullet.
The second his face paled, I didn’t need to ask whose name was engraved on the bullet. It was Reapers.
“Where is he?” Reaper asked, looking at the bullet then at the stranger. The man said nothing as he stared blankly at Reaper.
“Savage, take Acid to the shed. Tell Shadow to get him prepped and ready. Ghost, escort our guest to the chapel.” Then he roared, “CHURCH. NOW!”
We were all sitting, waiting, staring at the stranger as he looked so out of place in our club. Dressed in a nice dark suit, the man was clean shaven and not a hair out of place. The man looked ready for the boardroom, not some biker meeting. How Reaper knew him was still a mystery. Bossman was all about his secrets. For a man who wanted no more secrets he sure had a lot of them. It was those secrets that got my sister killed. I was fucking over it. I would have thought he learned his lesson but apparently, I was wrong because he was still making the same mistakes. I would have to think about that later because right now my mind was occupied elsewhere.
Like the shed.
I’d dropped off Acid to Shadow who rubbed his hands together smiling like an evil scientist ready to inflict maximum pain. That boy scared me on a good day. The shit Shadow was capable of doing, the enjoyment he derived from it was worrisome but the man was good at getting information. I couldn’t wait for him to feel the cut of my blade and see his blood on my hands. I wanted to be the one who took his last breath from his body right before I ripped his heart from his chest. Yeah, I had plans for that mother fucker.
Boy did I have plans for that fucker.
I never considered myself a vengeful man. More of a lover than a fighter. Then again, even lovers had their penchant for violence and I was ready to unleash mine. I didn’t know what I was really capable of. I’ve never been in a situation where I had lost my head, like Reaper had many times. I knew some men stayed cool under pressure, never letting any situation get the best of them. Other men like Reaper, well when pushed to the brink, saw blood. The need for blood was too much, almost like an addiction. Those men were extremely dangerous, highly unstable, and deadly when let off the leash. I didn’t know where I fell on that scale and wasn’t sure I wanted to find out.
All I knew was that the moment that mother fucker pulled the trigger, his life was done. He knew it. So did I. My sister was mine to protect and because of Acid, she was dead. It had taken me a long time to realize that I wasn’t totally to blame for her death. Part of me still believed that but seeing Acid cower on the ground, begging for his worthless life, I knew it wasn’t all mine to carry.
For years, Acid was a major part of our household. A brother and friend to my father. Acid was welcome in our home. He watched us on the occasion that dad would take mom out. He helped Kitty with her homework, talked to me for hours about baseball. The man was a standup guy and respected.
When shit hit the fan after dad was killed on a club run, Acid didn’t come around as much. Then he disappeared. No one knew where he went. In those days, the club was in turmoil. Lies, deceit, brothers killing brothers. That all ended when Reaper killed his dad and took over the club. For a while shit calmed down, then like the calm before a storm, death ramped up his game and has been playing for keeps ever since.
There hasn’t been a day when anyone of us weren’t on alert for something. With the Original Seven and whatever this stranger brought with him, death wasn’t about to leave anytime soon.
Shouting disrupted the silence as Reaper and Phantom went at it. I couldn’t make out what they were saying but I knew both of them were pissed. When a door slammed, a couple of the brothers flinched. Looking at Ghost, I noticed the man wasn’t fazed by any of it. Technically, none of us were. Phantom and Reaper always knocked heads at least once a week. It was a natural occurrence around here.
However, when Reaper walked in slamming the door behind him, muttering and cursing under his breath, I had a feeling whatever was going on was more than a normal squabble.
Grabbing his gavel, he slammed it down on the wooden table to bring the meeting to order. “Speak,” Reaper ordered, looking at the stranger.
“I hope the cliff notes version will suffice, because I don’t have time for the full story. Your club is in danger. A man named Abdul-Jamil Ascari is the head of a group called Division. He deals in human trafficking, dabbles in drugs but his main cash flow is arms. I’m talking the big shit, like RPG’s, Fighter Jets, Tanks, nuclear weapons. If you can find it on the black market, Ascari obtained it. You’ve already met some of his associates. I believe you know them by the Original Seven. Two of the remaining members you have been searching for are Lucas Katan and Franklin Montague. As for the last one, I haven’t identified him yet. Katan and Montague went into hiding when you started killing off the rest of the group. They are in a compound on the west coast of Costa Rica, owned by the Division. The second this club started interfering with the Division’s dealings, you inadvertently marked yourselves for death. The only reason they haven’t killed you all yet is because of one person. You have someone Ascari wants alive.”
“Who?” I asked curiously.