Chapter 11
Plan of Action
Jay (age 25)
Two Months Later
“How do you feel about heading down to Florida for a couple of days?” My father was eyeing me from across the bar where he had gone to pour himself a shot of tequila. I just shrugged my shoulders, prompting his next question. “You need to clear it with your woman first?”
I laughed. “No. It isn’t like that with us.”
“You moved in together, didn’t you?”
Again, I shrugged my shoulders. This time it was because I felt more stupid than apathetic. I should have never moved in with Lindsay. It had made sense when we both got back to town. She didn’t want to live with her family until she found a place and I honestly didn’t know if I could handle living alone here in Charleston. Too much time spent in my own head was not a good thing. Living at the clubhouse hadn’t been a choice I could make either. “It was convenience,” I finally told my dad as he downed his shot.
“Does she know that?”
“She knows because she is in the same boat. Don’t know what her damage is, but she isn’t looking for ‘the one’ any more than I am. We’re both okay with just comfortable for now.” Quite frankly, I was getting tired of explaining that shit to everyone. Explaining it to everyone else made me examine just why the situation was what it was. No one needed to know I didn’t feel like I deserved more. Then I’d have a clubhouse full of Deck trying to convince me otherwise. One brother riding my ass about how I felt was more than enough.
“All right, well we have some shit to handle down in Florida. I need someone who can take care of business and not let sentiment get in the way. That rules out most of the older guys.”
That caught my attention. “You have a problem with one of the veteran members?”
He tipped his head up and down once to indicate that I hit the nail on the head. “Let’s slide back to my office for a bit, yeah?” My dad’s penetrating blue eyes pierced my own. Between the three of us Donavan men, we all had varying shades of blue. Deck’s were more vibrant than either of ours. Mine were a tad lighter and leaned more toward a grayish blue when I was in a mood and my dad’s fell somewhere in between. He wasn’t sure I was up for this. I could see it in the way he was assessing me.
Once we were settled into the office, he took a load off behind his desk and just waited for me to speak. I don’t know what he was waiting for since he was the one with the job for me to do.
“Do you still want to be part of the MC, son?” He asked, instead of telling me about the run that was needed. It threw me for a loop.
“Been a part of the club in some way since I was born,” I responded.
“That’s not what I asked you.”
I sighed and leaned forward to look him in the eyes. “I’ll be honest with you. It’s fucking hard as hell to be here. I don’t know how Double-D does it. I don’t know how Ever walks through those doors with Deck. I just don’t fucking know how all of you aren’t haunted by Toby’s ghost every time you’re here.”
“Are you?”
“Of fucking course, I am. He’s everywhere I turn. It’s difficult as fuck to breathe in here sometimes.”
My father sighed and leaned forward. “I don’t know where you and T-Bone were at before he passed, son, but the rest of them don’t feel haunted by his ghost when they’re here. They come because they feel closer to him here. They feel comforted by the memories they have of being here with him.”
Well shit. I hadn’t thought of it like that because we weren’t in a good place when he died. I felt as though he resented the fact that I got to live while he died. “It should have been me,” I finally said.
“What the hell does that mean?”
“He had a woman and a baby on the way. I had nothing. I ruined shit for his family. I caused this rift inside these club walls. I didn’t deserve the chance to be here while he was taken.”
“I know telling you this isn’t going to amount to shit, because you’re not going to hear it, but you’re wrong. You didn’t cause anything. Every single man here chose to do what they did, act the way they did, and most of that shit was happening long before you fucked up with Ever. You hear me? I know you and T-Bone still weren’t in a good place, but I knew that boy from the time he was knee high to a grasshopper. He would not have felt that it should have been you instead of him. Never. You do him a disservice by putting that on his shoulders even in death.”
“You don’t understand,” I started to say.
“No, I understand perfectly well. And here’s what we’re going to do. I want you to take some time to think. I’m sending you to Florida to take care of this problem. If you like it down there, we’ll put in the transfer and keep you there as long as you like. If that isn’t the place for you, then you can go nomad and hop around with Phoenix again or find a home at one of the other clubs, but son, we’re all fuckin worried about you. I can’t keep you here looking like it’s pulling your insides out just to walk through the clubhouse doors.”
He said his peace and sat back, just watching me to see what I was going to do with everything he’d just thrown at me. I nodded my head. “Okay,” I answered.
“Okay?” He questioned.
“Okay, I’ll go to Florida and scope it out and then when I get back, my decision will be made.” We discussed the finer points of what he thought I might find down in Jacksonville, and then I was off to go pack and let Lindsay know that I wouldn’t be around for a few days.
“Where are you going?”
“Club business down in Florida,” I answered as she stood there across the bedroom from me with her hands on her hips looking as though she was gearing up for a fight.
“Well, why can’t you take me with you?”
“Didn’t you just hear me say it’s club business? It ain’t a social call. Besides, don’t you have a job to get to?”
“I’d have a job dealing with your club’s business if you’d ever put in a good word for me.” Lindsay had been on me about getting the club to let her do the books for the strip clubs and various other businesses we had all around the Charleston area.
“Already told you, Double-D handles that shit.” I continued to roll my clothing and fill the bag that would fit right inside my saddle bag on my bike.
“He’s getting older. They need someone else.”
“They ain’t bringing in an outsider to handle that shit, Linds. I’ve already told you that before.”
“If you made me your old lady officially, that wouldn’t be a problem,” she huffed.
“Can you not do this shit right now? I have to get my head into business, and everything isn’t about you anyway.”
“What? Of course, it’s about me. It’s about me trying to find a way to be closer to you. I feel what’s happening between us and I won’t let it happen. We were meant to be together, and you know it. It was fate that brought us together at that concert.”
“Lindsay!” I yelled. She stopped mid-tirade and just stared at me. “You’re giving me a fucking headache. Just stop. We’ll talk about everything when I get back.”
“Fine!” She huffed once more and then stomped her ass out of the bedroom and off to somewhere else in the apartment. This was something I was going to have to take care of as soon as I got back. Suddenly, my father’s offer to get the fuck out of here and transfer to a different chapter was looking better and better. I hadn’t even slept with Lindsay in damn near a month. I just wasn’t feeling it. I wasn’t cheating on her either, but damn if it wasn’t tempting when she acted this way. Deck’s words kept coming back to haunt me, but then I’d remember why I was with her. Did I really deserve more or was this all I was capable of having in my life? That thought was depressing as fuck, so instead of dwelling on it, I finished packing my bag and hauled ass to my bike to stow everything.
When I got outside, Sandman was waiting on his bike. He was riding a fucking Honda of all things. I laughed as I approached. He glanced d
own at the whiny little bitch bike he was seated on. “Don’t fuckin’ start. Laid my hog down the other day and this is what those fuckers gave me as a temp.”
I burst out laughing then. “Let me guess, they told you if you could keep this one upright you could have the big boy bike back?”
“Fuckers!” He hissed out, making me laugh harder, because that was exactly what the guys at the shop had done.
I tipped my head up to the Econoline van across the street from my place. “Who do we have in the cage?”
“Couple of prospects that want to earn their patch.”
“They know we might be hauling another brother back here with us?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “They’re on a need to know basis for now. Merc wanted to see how they handled their shit considering.”
“Damn, that’s going to suck for them.”
“It shouldn’t,” he answered back. “Loyalty is to the club. If one of our own ain’t loyal no more, they need to be dealt with. Weak links break us all.”
“You’re right about that,” I agreed, settling on my grown-up Harley, and revving the engine so the loud pipes drowned out the miserable whine the Honda made. Sandman threw me a scathing look before shaking his head and maneuvering his bike out of my driveway. I followed and then we were off, heading for Jacksonville to check in on things and possibly bring in a traitor.”
Chapter 12
Death Dealer
Jay (age 25)
Watching my brothers from another chapter didn’t really sit right with me, even if I understood why it had to be done. I glanced over at the two prospects who were looking far more nervous than they should be. They were just now realizing we were here to investigate some of our own.
“What do you guys think about all this,” I asked while pointing to the truck that was pulled up in the loading bay of the new Jacksonville clubhouse.
“It isn’t really my place to say one way or another. We’re here for support only since we ain’t patched members yet.”
“It’s your place to say when I’m asking a question,” I informed him. The other prospect spoke up instead.
“It looks like a shipment’s about to go out that hasn’t been scheduled. If that’s the case, then this chapter is doing some shit they shouldn’t be doing.”
“Yeah, but it also looks pretty deserted down there right now, like the guys are all out on a run or something,” the first prospect added.
“Ah, finally, they decide to give their input!” Sandman chuckled. “You’re both right. That’s what we came down here to see. One of our brothers has some dirty backdoor dealings going on and now it’s our job to handle that shit. Either of you have a problem with that?”
“Fuck a traitor!” One of them proclaimed.
“What’s your name, man?” I finally asked because it had been bugging me that I didn’t know either of these guys.
“Chuck,” he told me, and I knew right then the poor bastard needed a decent road name to make up for that shit.
I turned to the other one. “And you?”
He just smirked at me. “Blake, they call me Target though.” I nodded, figuring I’d get the story on that later, and then turned my attention to Sandman.
“You ready, or do you want to wait until after the truck pulls out?”
“Let’s go in now, that way we see firsthand what’s been loaded up on that thing,” he suggested. That was what I had been hoping for.
We moved quietly through the woods where we had been sitting to watch and then swiftly across the parking lot before being spotted. There was a gap between the truck and the wall at the loading dock so we all boosted up and slipped right on inside, coming face to face with Crow, a prospect he had at the club, and two men who bore tats that indicated they were members of one of the most notorious gangs in the area. Shit, this was not good.
Sandman and I both drew down on them, but it was Target who took them out in rapid succession. “What the fuck are you doing?” Crow screamed at him. “Get this piece of shit out of my clubhouse!”
“This ain’t your clubhouse, Crow,” I informed him. It wasn’t. He had taken up the title of Vice President here, but there was another meaning behind it too. He was coming back with us to face club justice for this shit. “Call it in,” I told Sandman as I indicated for the prospects to get a hold of Crow. “Tie him up, cuff him if you got ‘em. I don’t care, just don’t let the asshole go.”
“Don’t let the asshole go?” Crow parroted. “Boy, there was a time I took you over my fucking knee and spanked your ass!”
“Time’s passed, asshole. You fuck with the club; you pay the price. You know that.”
“Yeah? Did you pay the price?” He asked snidely, knowing it was my fuck up that had six of us inked with our sins.
“Still paying it,” I told him as I moved into the truck to find the missing pieces of gun shipments that the Tallahassee Chapter had been complaining about. “Look at this shit here,” I called out to Sandman. Looks like Merc was right.”
“Merc don’t know shit,” Crow called out.
I turned to him; brow raised in question as I smirked at him. “That so? Seems he knew enough to send us here and when. I’m thinking your boys here know more than they were letting on and they didn’t like what they saw. No one likes a rat bastard.”
He laughed. It was a sick and twisted noise coming from a man who had betrayed his club. Crow had once been a man I looked up to. The sad truth was that he became a shadow of himself after his first kid died, but we all saw the pieces truly fall apart when his wife left him after everything came out about how he had been treating Ever. It wasn’t just about that, but it was the straw that broke the camel’s back for her. She couldn’t stay with a man who would treat a child that way, even though Ever was no longer a child when it all came out. It was why he had ended up in Jacksonville. Merc didn’t want him there anymore tainting the damn clubhouse with his derision. Double-D had threatened to beat the man to death a couple of times too. For obvious reasons since he blamed Ever for his wife taking off.
Once PeeWee had been removed from the club, Crow had only grown worse. It kind of made me wish he’d gone with PeeWee wherever that asshole was now. His attitude was shit, and his behavior was shittier, especially where the Brothers family was concerned. He pretended like he was ready to head out on this adventure after going down to Jacksonville in the early stages, but truly he had been banished here by the Charleston Chapter who no longer wanted to deal with him. It was the only step he had to take between being a member of the club and being ousted completely.
“Shut him the fuck up for the duration. He can squeal like a little girl when we get him back to Charleston,” I told Target. He listened immediately. The kids stuffed a dirty rag of some sort that had been lying off to the side of the truck in Crow’s mouth and then wrapped some rope around his head to tie it in place. “Do not take that gag off of him. It better be in place when we get back, you feel me?”
Both prospects nodded their head.
“Should we call in Trench?” Sandman asked. Trench had taken over presidency down here, though he did so with the stipulation that we needed to be looking for a replacement for him within the first three years because he was too old for this shit. Those were his words. Trench was 53 years old and had made the move to Florida because he claimed his bones were too old to be any further north. He was dealing with arthritis in his hands and didn’t expect to be riding much longer. I debated on whether or not we should do that. Trench was a good guy and I didn’t see him being involved in something like this, but at the same time, he was retiring from the club soon. He was retiring, period, and that meant he’d need a good setup to carry him through the rest of his life.
I held up a hand and pulled out my cell to call the only man I trusted to make this decision. “What’s up J-Bird?”
“Merc, we need to know how you’re feeling about Trench down here.”
“Was he there tonight?”
>
“No. It was just Crow, a prospect, and two bangers.”
“What happened to them?”
“Crow’s trussed up in the back of the van awaiting transport. The bangers are dead, and the prospect,” I glanced around having forgotten about the little shit. I saw him slumped over, body half falling off the truck.
“He tried to run,” Chuck told me. I nodded.
“The prospect is out of commission too,” I told my father.
“So, Trench wasn’t there?” He asked again.
“Nah.”
“Any reason you felt the need to call for verification on him then?”
“Just a funny feeling in my gut. He has retirement to worry about, but he ain’t stupid.”
“You think he used Crow to keep his own hands clean?”
“Maybe,” I offered as I chewed on my lip and watched the prospects buzzing around, dragging bodies off to the side, and getting the guns back off the truck. “Should we grab the rest of this gun shipment and hang on to it until Crusher lets us know what we need to do with it, or just call Crusher and the boys and wait around for them to pick up?”
“I’ll give Crusher a call and let you know what they want you to do.” He hung up with nothing else said. The fact that he didn’t tell me to call Trench in said it all though. He had been worried about the same thing.
“News?”
“We’ll know soon enough, Merc’s calling Crusher.”
The Killing Ride Page 8