Planning and carrying out a mission like we had the night before was no easy task. To get out as unscathed as we had was a miracle.
Sure, there were some grazes. Renny had lost a tooth. Sugar took a knife to the upper arm.
But it was all—thankfully—superficial shit.
That said, I was feeling it.
The stringing up, the beatings, the stress, the uncertainty, the long nights planning, the worry as we sprang into action, the way I had needed to push my body to the limits to carry that night out.
So if my woman wanted to play nursemaid, I wasn't fucking objecting to it.
"I was just—"
"You were just sitting your stubborn ass back down," Summer finished for me, coming toward me with a tray, something steaming in a bowl. "I know you aren't sick, but soup fixes everything," she told me, eyes warm as she placed the tray on my lap, moving to sit next to me against the pillows.
"How's Fallon?"
"Bragging about his gunshot wound."
I snorted at that. "It was a graze."
"I think he is planning on going to get into a bar fight just to have more scars to brag about. That one," she said, shaking her head.
"Reminds you of someone?" I asked, smirking.
"I didn't know you when you were that young and that reckless, but, yeah, there is a lot of you in him."
"I hope so," I agreed, nodding.
"You're going to pass over Cash and Wolf, aren't you?" she asked, point-blank.
We'd always discussed the club, but Summer had always been more passive in the conversation, not demanding a lot of details, knowing it was always safer for her not to be privy to them.
"Cash and Wolf don't want it. They're not exactly much younger than me," I reminded her. "We all agree that if and when the club passes down, it should go to someone younger, someone who wants it more. Who wants it more than Fallon?"
"I don't like it," Summer said, sighing, resting her head on my good shoulder. It was the same thing she'd said when he'd first told us his intention to go through the motions to prospect for the club.
I bit my tongue in reminding her that her daughter was into much more dangerous shit than Fallon would likely ever be. It wasn't the time.
"He's not ready yet," I told her, reaching down to squeeze her knee. "But he will be. And he has what it takes. He just needs to grow up some first. Learn to control his anger a bit."
"I can't believe he pulled a gun on Colson."
While I didn't like that move, I appreciated that he was capable of doing what it took to get what he needed. No, he should never pull a gun on a club brother, but he'd been the only one willing to spring into action when he thought it was needed.
With a few more years, and maybe a little firmer guidance from me and his uncles, Fallon would be ready to take over the club.
And, I hoped, that club would be a bit more diversified than it currently was.
That was what else had been keeping me awake. Planning the future direction of the club.
This hiccup with the supply chain—one that seemed to only be getting worse somehow even with Third Street out of the picture—had made it clear that it was simply never a good idea to put all your eggs in one basket. Not when so many men, women, and children were dependent on a steady income.
Branching out to open sister clubs that would, in turn, give us a small cut of all their ventures, was a move in the right direction. It was a stream of income that didn't involve any extra work on our part. But there needed to be more than that.
That was what I was working on.
I was taking a page out of the Grassis and the Mallicks' books. I was going to make more of our operation legit.
We would always be a one-percent club. Who also happened to make a decent percentage of our income from other ventures. It was smart for many reasons. Not the least of which being it was a way to clean our money, something Chris had been on my ass about for a long while.
We were taking "unnecessary risks" by not having a reliable way to wash our cash.
She was right.
And I had been too stubborn to see it before now.
Almost dying did a lot to a man with a fuck of a lot to lose. It put shit in perspective.
Giving my kids and my club a future, one that they could then pass on, was important to me. So was keeping them out of jail. And, hopefully from being strung up in a garage and beaten with a bat.
I was going to wait it out until he was ready, until I got it all lined up, then I was going to hand my son the reins of something he could build his legacy on, something he could be proud of, something safer than the one I had been handed.
"He's got some growing up to do," I agreed. "And, luckily, Colson isn't the type to hold a grudge."
"I heard his girl is really nice."
"I didn't spend much time with her, but she seems like a good, normal kind of woman." Which was good since Colson and always been a normal sort of man. Sure, he had acclimated, become a brother, but he was a single father before it all, someone from a different life than the rest of us.
"I like the idea of him with a single mom. We owe that kid a really nice Christmas present," she added, fingers tracing over the bandage on my arm.
We would shape him up, too. Especially now that his toxic uncle was out of the way.
"Okay, I'll shut up," she said, pressing a kiss to my shoulder. "Eat."
Then because my woman demanded it, and because I liked that she still loved me enough to do shit like that, I ate.
"I know, I know," she said, rolling her eyes as she took the tray, climbed off the bed. "You can't be in bed all day. And you need to handle business. And your men need to see their fearless leader," she said, waving a hand in the air. "But you get two hours before I drag you back to this bed."
"Oh yeah?" I asked, lips curving up.
"That's not what I meant," she told me, but her eyes were getting warm.
"No? 'Cause, babe, that's what I heard."
To that, she let out a small laugh.
"Okay. Yes. Maybe I meant that too. But only if you are back in this bed in two hours."
"Three."
"If it's three, you have to promise to get a full night of sleep after."
"I'll probably need it," I told her, leaning down to press a kiss to her lips before moving out into the common space.
Just in time to see the front door open and hear Huck sigh.
"You can't be fucking serious right now, Remy," Huck said, shaking his head. "Where the fuck did you even find that?"
The that he was referring to was a wide-headed blue-toned pitbull, all barrel chest and bright blue eyes.
"Didn't Roderick tell you?" he asked, looking over to the man in question who had his woman sitting on his lap.
"Hell no. You're not getting me involved in your shit, man," Roderick said, shaking his head.
"Remy," Huck said, patience wearing thin. And that was saying something. Because that man had the patience of a saint, the nerves of steel this entire trip up, dealing with shit when I couldn't, when Cash wasn't around to do so either.
"She was in the room of one of those assholes we needed to take out," Remy explained, leading the dog—hot pink leash and all—into the clubhouse. "Look at her. She's been overbred like some fucking puppy mill dog. Those shitheads just wanted to make a quick buck off of her because she probably makes pretty babies with blue hair and eyes," he said, leaning down to pet the dog's head. In turn, she looked up with him with trusting, loving eyes.
He was right about the poor dog who had long, swollen nipples that swung around when she walked. Despite that, she seemed thin with a couple of open sores on her back and ears.
"You already have four dogs, Remy. And then there are the cats. And that fucking tortoise," Huck grumbled.
"What was I supposed to do? Leave her there? If she went to a shelter, they'd have put her down."
Huck, it seemed, had his very own male version of our Rey with her love of ani
mals. Unlike Rey, though, the rumor was that Remy came with a violent streak. He didn't just take the dog from you if he saw you hit it, he beat the ever-loving shit out of you for doing so, and then took your dog.
"How the fuck are we supposed to get it back down to Florida? We rode our bikes up here, remember?"
"It is a she. And her name is Ramona," Remy declared, patting her massive head. "And West already agreed that when he could get away, he and Gus will drive a truck down with us and the bike."
"Christ. I give up," Huck said, getting up, walking over to the bar, and grabbing a bottle of whiskey.
I was just going to walk over and share a drink with him when Brooks's voice called from the front yard.
"Reign!" he yelled, voice full of warning.
And not a second later, I heard it myself.
The rumble of bikes.
"Freddie, get the women downstairs," Virgin demanded, standing, nudging her into action as he reached for his gun off the coffee table.
"Here, I'll take her," Freddie said, taking the leash from Remy as all the other men sprang into action, grabbing weapons, making their way out front.
Sure, you heard bikes in the area. We weren't the only ones who enjoyed the ride. But these weren't your local teens on crotch rockets or the weekend warrior types going for a ride.
This was a whole lot of bikes slowly rumbling down the street, seeming to want to be heard, to want to draw our attention.
It was the middle of the morning. I didn't want to get into a fucking gunfight when anyone could be walking down the street, passing in cars, but if someone was bringing a battle to our front yard, we didn't exactly have much of a say in the matter, did we?
By the time we burst out of the doors, the bikes had all come to a stop, their riders all keeping their seats, the bikes idling.
I could see the telltale bulge of weapons on some of them, but no one was holding one in their hands.
Suddenly, the front three riders cut their engines, climbed off, removed their helmets, and turned to make their way toward the gates.
The other bikes all cut off at the same time, making my ears ring with the sudden silence.
Nodding toward Huck and Cash at my sides, we moved forward as a unit as the rest of the men scanned the riders, fingers close to triggers should it become necessary to use them.
My own stayed just to the side of the trigger as I made my way to the gate, Lo's people pulling them open just far enough for me to see who I was facing up to without the wires between us.
Two men to the sides—tall, strong, tattoos, young like some of my newer guys, but not as young as my son.
But there in the center of those two, looking very much like the person in charge, was someone of the same age.
A woman.
With long, straight blonde hair, keen blue eyes, and a leather cut with a one-percent badge right below the one that said she, this woman young enough to be my daughter, was the president.
"Reign," she said, giving me a cool smile. "Looking like you're getting around just fine. Did you happen to get my care package?" she asked, keeping almost unnerving eye-contact.
"Shit," Huck hissed under his breath at my side.
"So, that was you," I said.
"It was. It was the least we could do, considering."
"Considering what?" I asked, feeling my spine stiffen.
"Well, considering I was the one who hired those idiots to grab you," she admitted, and I could hear someone cocking their gun behind me.
At the woman's sides, her men's hands went to their waistbands before she held up her hands to both of them, making them drop their arms.
"I'm confused why you would kill one of them when they were doing what you ordered."
"See, that's the thing about outsourcing," she said, waving a hand in the air. "They take the job and run with it like it was theirs to begin with. For the record, you were meant to be taken. And held onto. My orders were never to have you tortured. I mean, I love a little torture just as much as the next girl, but this was purely a snatch and grab job. They took matters into their own hands. They had to pay for that. You got to the rest of them before I could. But I felt it was our job to personally deliver Miguel. Make amends."
"If the job wasn't to torture or kill me, what did you want me grabbed for?"
"For a diversion, of course," she said, shrugging. "You were onto me. I needed you and your club to focus on something else for a while. So I could finalize my plans."
"You're the one fucking with our supply chain," I said, shaking my head.
"You weren't supposed to figure it out until we were all set up."
"Set up?" I repeated, jaw getting tight, having a feeling I knew where this was heading.
"Of course. I mean, this little town is big enough for two outlaw biker clubs, don't you think?" the woman asked, giving me a victorious smile.
It was right then that something came back to me. Something I had heard in the garage while I was strung up.
I'd heard bikes rumbling to life and pulling out.
At the time, I thought they were my men going to look for me.
But it never struck me until right that moment that the sounds of the bikes had been coming from the wrong direction.
Those bikes I heard had belonged to the members of this MC, led by the first female outlaw biker president I had ever seen.
Fuck.
Just when I thought things were calming back down.
"Anyway, we just wanted to stop by and introduce ourselves. That's what new neighbors do, right?"
"Depends on what kind of neighbors they are going to be," Huck chimed in.
"Careful," she said, her gaze cutting to Huck. "Or I will get all kinds of ideas about opening up a new chapter in your neck of the woods. Florida is nice and warm all year round. I can think of some men who would like it down there. And I don't think you want that kind of trouble, right? You have so much on your hands already."
Shit.
This woman had done her research.
Worse than that, we were completely in the fucking dark.
I had no idea who she was, who her men were, if they were connected to another club somewhere.
"I didn't catch your name, babe," I said, getting her gaze off of Huck.
Her smile was smug as she did a once-over of me before holding my gaze again. "Danny," she said, not offering her hand. "And I don't think we are going to be fast friends, even if that is the proper thing to say. Oh, look, it's Reign Jr.," she said, glancing toward my side where Fallon was making his way out.
"Fallon," he corrected.
"Yes, of course. The president in training. How cute," she added, smug in her position. "I look forward to seeing a lot of you guys in the coming months and years," Danny said, gaze moving back to me. "Aren't new beginnings so fun?" she asked, smiling wide before turning and making her way back to her bike.
And just like the engines cutting off, as soon as hers roared to life, so did the others, the noise almost deafening before they pulled away.
I waited until I was sure they were gone and not coming back before I turned.
"Church," I demanded. "Cash, get your woman on the fucking phone. And your kid too, while you're at it. We need to know everything we can about them. And fast."
"Already on it," Cash agreed, his phone up to his ear as we all filed inside.
"Why don't my men and I take one of the cars out? Drive around. Get eyes on the headquarters, any information we can get about it?" Huck asked, body tense, not liking her threat any more than I did. It was bad enough she was hitting the supply chain in Jersey. We didn't need her fucking with the one in Florida as well.
"Yeah, that'd be great. Pictures, if you can get them without being seen," I added.
With that, his men set off, leaving us standing there in stunned silence.
It was Maze, of all people, who finally broke it, barreling into the room after Brooks went down to tell the women that it seemed safe for the
moment.
"Wait a minute, wait a minute. Did I hear right?" she asked, looking around. "The club had a female president?"
"Yeah," I confirmed as her gaze cut to me, and I knew exactly what was coming.
"Gee, looks like some clubs are progressive, after all. Maybe I should try to prospect over there," she said, shooting me playfully annoyed eyes.
"Christ. This is a mess," I said, raking a hand over my eyes. "I need the rest of the men back here," I demanded, looking at everyone at large.
"What about the women and kids?" Sugar asked.
"I think they're alright for now. If their intentions were to kill anyone, they'd have done it out there. They would have had an advantage in numbers alone. And they wouldn't have delivered Miguel to us either. I think they are just flexing, letting us know they got the better of us. For now, let the women and kids settle back in so long as Lo has men and women to spare to act as guards."
It was about forty minutes later that everyone rolled in, faces masks of the confusion I felt.
"I already ragged on him about the female president thing," Maze declared to Lo and Chris as they walked in.
"Oh, good. Saves me the trouble," Lo agreed, smirking. "My biggest question is how the fuck these people got into town and set down roots with no one knowing about it."
"It shouldn't be possible," Chris insisted, and you could practically hear her gears turning, wondering which cog of the finely tuned wheel she called her operations at Hailstorm was not working right.
"This is Navesink Bank," Cash said, shaking his head. "A lot of impossible shit happens here."
"Still," Chris said, shaking her head. "This isn't like one single new player snuck into town under the radar. An entire club did. How many people would you say there were?"
"Twenty-five?" I guessed. "Maybe more."
"Twenty-five bikers rolled into this town, and no one saw anything off?" Chris asked, clucking her tongue. "We have all gotten too complacent. Things have been stable for too long. We got used to it. We let down our guard."
"Can't argue with that," I agreed.
There were too many elements to this whole thing.
Not a single one of them should have happened.
The supply chain shouldn't have gotten so bad without us realizing.
Colson (The Henchmen MC Book 20) Page 19
