“And Ascari is in D.C,” I added. “They are coming.”
“Agreed.”
“What are we going to do? We’re outnumbered. We don’t stand a chance. We’re sitting ducks here.”
Reaper slowly stood. A look of pure fury emanated off him in waves. I’d never seen him look that way before. If looks could kill, we’d all be dead. When he spoke, not a single person breathed. “If those fuckers want a war, they’ve got one. Phantom, did you send out that text, I asked?”
I nodded, unsure where he was going with this. It was a long shot at best. I didn’t see the need to involve anyone else in this matter, but I did as he asked. To my shock, the response was instant.
“How many replied?”
“All of them.”
Reaper looked at Dylan, who nodded, then he smiled evilly. “Good. This is what we’re going to do.”
Two hours later, I found myself sitting in my office, staring blankly at the screens before me.
To say that I was in shock would be a moot point.
Everything I knew or thought I knew about this club and Reaper just flew out the window.
But it all made perfect sense now.
This club, the Golden Skulls, wasn’t just some motorcycle club that lived outside the law trying to do the right thing.
No.
Behind the scenes, this club was part of an underbelly of likeminded individuals. Groups of men and women, hell-bent on eradicating those who deposed the law. Men and women who ignored the law of the land, doing what they pleased to further their own personal gains. Men and women who fought for what was right, not what others wanted. This was about survival now. Protect the innocent and kill the guilty. Law and order were out the door. What remained was a civic responsibility to do the right thing.
The nasty web of treachery we were all caught in had just boiled over. No longer caught in its throngs, we’d freed ourselves from its tentacles and now we would fight to the death.
No wonder the world thought all biker clubs were menaces to society. That’s what they wanted everyone to believe. It was easier to point the blame at them when in reality, it was those in power. From the local police to the president of the United States, anyone affiliated with a crime of any kind, these clubs, these men and women were there to bring them to justice.
They were law-abiding citizens.
They were the darkness in the night that helped those who couldn’t help themselves. And where did that get them, labeled as degenerates, menaces to society? The riffraff that local, state and federal law officers tried to bring down.
Why? Because if the powers that be allowed them to go unchecked, they would seal their own fates. They were the guilty ones and yet, they got away with murder.
I knew the world was a fucked-up place, but I never believed it went this deep. To have our own local police on the Society’s payroll.
Holy shit.
No wonder no one trusted the police, the law, or their elected officials. They were all corrupt. Every fucking one of them.
They were all part of the great evil determined to destroy the world. It made sense too.
Fuck, the former police chief of Purgatory, Brian O’Connor, was helping Caroline Doherty deliver messages to the Guardian. He then informed his mother, who sent it up the chain to the head of the Society. No wonder that motherfucker was always one step ahead of us. He had eyes and ears everywhere.
It was like the world had been invaded by cockroaches. They were everywhere and damn near impossible to kill. The world was infested with them.
I wasn’t sure if Reaper’s plan was going to work.
It was genius, that was for sure.
Still, I needed some insurance.
I needed to hedge our bets. Ensure that we can come out alive instead of six feet under. There was too much at stake and anything could go wrong. But first, I needed to be sure about one thing.