“No problem, brother. You know we’ve slept harder than this. Long as there’s bitches and booze, we’re good.” He looked around. “Place seems awful quiet.”
With a tilt of his head, and a lift of his eyebrow, Isaac made it very clear how he was actually feeling. It was clear to the Horde, anyway—at least, it was to Bart, and he figured the others saw what he was seeing. But Isaac’s voice was calm when he answered, “Well, we’re a quiet place these days, for the most part. And it’s late. The girls went home. Like I said, didn’t know to expect you. But we got booze. Omen’ll hook you up.” Omen waved; Bart could see the tremor of anxiety in his hand.
“In our clubhouse, we’re sure there’s women if there’s men around to have ‘em.”
Bart saw Isaac go rigid. “In our clubhouse, the women come and go as they please.” Again, he hit the word ‘our’.
Sam’s stance changed slightly, and all the Scorpions reacted, also changing their stances—moving their hands closer to their weapons. The Horde responded in kind.
Jesus fuck. These were friends?
Then Isaac smiled. “Well, there’ll be women around tomorrow, no doubt. For now, help yourselves to our drink and our bunks.” He looked past Sam to the rest of the Scorpions. “Make yourselves comfortable, brothers. The Night Horde welcome you to our home.”
The tension didn’t exactly break, but it eased, and, finally, men who had been brothers to each other greeted each other as if that were still true. Rick came up to Bart, and they embraced sincerely. They’d only been face to face twice before, but they’d worked closely together many times, and Bart considered Rick a true friend, in a bond that transcended the alliance of their clubs. In fact, Rick had first been friends with Lilli, and had come to the Scorpions through his connection to her and the Horde.
While they were still arm in arm, Rick muttered, “Man, we gotta talk.”
Bart nodded. Yeah, they sure as shit did. But then Rick nodded back toward the middle of the Hall, and Bart turned. Isaac and Sam were talking, both looking serious, neither particularly animated. Then Isaac stared hard at Sam before turning away. “Officers. Keep. Now.”
Sam said, “That’s you, too, brothers.”
Rick muttered, “Showtime.” And the Horde and Scorpion officers headed for the Keep.
~oOo~
Sam sat at the end of the table opposite Isaac—C.J.’s seat. Len, Show, and Bart took their usual seats. Shiv, Rick, Tug, and Ghost, who turned out to be Sam’s VP—an old guy with a shiny bald head and a long grey beard down to the middle of his chest—sat near Sam. The effect was to divide the table about in half, Horde vs. Scorpions. Bart’s heart was pounding so hard he had to concentrate so that he didn’t shake.
It was Isaac’s table, and Sam didn’t try to step on that. Isaac led. “It’s late, and I know you rode hard, so let’s get to it. You got concerns.”
Sam nodded. “We do. Lotta light on Signal Bend right now. Lotta people around who don’t know how things work. Lotta news all over the place. Be remiss if I didn’t see for myself that our interests are protected.”
“They are. We’re on it. We’ve been on it. I told you as much.” Isaac stopped and took a breath. “But you need to see with your own eyes. What is it you need to see?”
“I know you think I’m stepping over, Isaac. And I’m sorry ‘bout that. But the word is things ain’t so settled around this table. That makes me cautious. I want the actors here. Have a couple of my guys talk to them. Make sure everybody’s clear what it is they’re doing.”
Bart thought of Riley in the clubhouse, surrounded by these guys, and his stomach clenched. Before he even knew he would speak, before Isaac even had a chance to respond to the claim that the Horde were in trouble, Bart looked straight at Sam and said, his tone pointed, “No way.”
He didn’t lose eye contact with Sam, but he felt every head in the room swivel to him. He was shocked himself, and scared more than a little, but he held. He had lots of practice standing his ground with Isaac, so he held. “It’s a bad fucking idea, Sam. Sorry.”
Sam’s eyes narrowed, and Bart pushed back the nervous urge to swallow. “You got a reason—more than where you’re sticking your dick these days?”
That pulled Bart up short for a couple of seconds. How the fuck did Sam know? Rick was good, but what intel was there to even be had? They’d kept a lid on the paparazzi—at that thought Bart remembered the guys they had in the Room—and there was nothing else.
No. There was one thing. There was C.J. He hadn’t been around the clubhouse since the actors started arriving, but Horde were checking in with him, and the guys all gossiped worse than the women. Easy bet somebody told Ceej that Bart had bagged the actress.
Sam knew about Riley. He knew that there was trouble at the table. Isaac was right. C.J. was working an angle. Ironic, since he was the trouble at the table.
Then he thought about Vic, and the way he’d brought up the patch-over idea last week. Bart’s head began to swim as bits of information gained new context. Holy fuck. The shit was deep and the fan was big.
But he pushed that aside and answered Sam’s challenge. “We’re talking about famous people. A bunch of ‘em. Our usual ways of persuasion won’t work here. Scaring them—won’t work. Bringing them into a clubhouse double full of guys like us—won’t work. PR is what they understand. We—the Horde—have been hanging with them for days. A couple of ‘em for longer than that. We’ve built relationships. They understand. And they don’t know shit, anyway. You saw the script. The writers were way deeper than these actors have been or will be. And we kept the lid on when the writers were here. Our mutual interests are secure. More secure than if they’d made this movie without us. We signed on to protect our secrets, not expose them.”
He turned to Isaac then, who was focused on him. When Isaac nodded once, he knew he’d answered right.
“Bart’s a smart man, Sam. And he’s been on this since the beginning. He’s right. We can’t scare all these people. And we can’t hurt ‘em. That’s where there’s too much light. That’s what would expose us all. But we don’t need to. We’re cool.”
Again, Bart thought about Wallace and Grady, bound and gagged in the Room as they spoke.
Rick spoke up then, turning to Sam. “Bart’s being straight, boss. You know I’ve had no red flags, either. The Hollywood folks are respecting the boundary. And our friends here have been on top of it.”
Sam looked around the table. Isaac stared at Sam. When Sam met Isaac’s eyes, they held. “I know this pisses you off, brother. And I understand. But you know that we got to hold the line. You know what’s at stake. We can’t have your fifteen minutes get in the way of our business.”
Isaac’s fists were clenched, but he said nothing. It was Show who leaned forward. “We have a lot of years in this alliance, Sam. Trust on both sides. You know we respect your business. We help your business. We’re not in the way.”
Sam leaned back. “Trust is a tricky thing, especially when it’s more than just your own self on the line. There’s a straight-up solve for all this. You come into the fold. You’re one of us, then trust is not a problem. I’m not talking support, Isaac. I’m talking charter.”
That was a new wrinkle. Full charter brought more privilege and status. But full charter for a club like the Scorpions was heavy duty outlaw shit. The table went quiet, every man looking around. Except Isaac and Sam, who were engaged in a staredown. Without breaking that deadly eye contact, Isaac slammed the gavel into the table. “This meeting is fucking adjourned.”
Nobody moved. Finally, Sam pushed away from the table. “Yeah. Let’s get some rest, boys. We’ll talk tomorrow.” He stood and walked out of the room. The rest of the Scorpion officers followed.
The Horde stayed back. His voice low and uncharacteristically hesitant, Len asked, “How fucked are we?”
Isaac stared at the table he’d made, his fingers rubbing the braid he’d carved into it. He shook his head. “They push this p
oint, we’re either gone or patched over. Ellis was hardcore, but until the end, we could have given up and walked away, if we had wanted to. The civilized businessman in him would have let us walk.
“We fight Sam, and he will salt the earth. Bring a club like the Scorps on our head and there’s no backing out. There’s being dead or being patched over. I gotta back him down some other way. Because I will burn this fucking kutte before I put any Scorpions patch on it. But I do not intend to die.”
He looked straight at Bart. “You on board now?” Knowing what he was asking, Bart nodded. Isaac looked at Show. “You?” Show nodded. Isaac turned to Len. “This is Ceej. Ceej is feedin’ Sam intel. He’s sittin’ on his fucking couch drinking his fucking Wild Turkey, and tearing this club down.” He turned again to Bart. “You find something, and you find it now. I need evidence. I want that fucker’s patch. I want that fucker’s ink. And I want that fucker’s heart. In my hands.”
~oOo~
When they came out of the Keep, Vic was talking to Sam and Shiv.
Vic, who was supposed to be back in the Room with Wallace and Grady. Sam turned to Isaac, and Bart understood everything. Ceej and Vic. Both of them. Holy fucking shit.
Staring at Isaac, Sam called, “Howler!” And then he turned and walked down the hallway toward the Room. A short, compact Scorpion, bald (it occurred to Bart that most of the Scorps were shaved or close-cropped), with a thick ring through his septum and several small ivory skulls braided into his beard, followed after Sam and Shiv.
Isaac took two quick steps, as if to try to head them off, then pulled up. He looked at Show. Show nodded. Then Isaac checked the piece in his shoulder holster. They were all still carrying, from the night’s earlier—and continuing—excitement. “Hav!” he called, and Havoc, who was standing at the bar, walked over.
“I saw it, boss. Vic came couple of minutes ago, went right up to Sam. What’s goin’ on?”
“I’d say the Scorpions are not our allies—or if they are, we have ourselves a fucking uneasy alliance right now. Looks like Vic and Ceej've flipped. You get a shot on Vic—any one of you—you take it. I want him on the ground, but I want him breathing. Anybody got a problem with that?”
No one did. Bart was usually queasy about the violence, especially against their own, but he saw the scene unfolding, and, yet again, Vic was bringing heavy shit down on the club. Bart would have voted for him to meet his Maker, if that had been the question before them.
Isaac turned to Bart. “They gotta go. And they gotta go now. I’m calling Lilli. You call your girl.” He turned. “Show, call Shannon. Len, call Badge. Make it quick. Let’s get ‘em moving.”
Bart nodded and, while the Horde were clustered together in a huddle, he dialed Riley.
She answered on the first ring, wide awake. “Hi. Everything okay?”
“No, babe. We’re getting you all to the airport, right now. Pack and move. Everybody. Shannon, Lilli, and Badger are on it. Do what they say, and get moving.”
“Bart—what’s going on? I don’t understand.”
“I’m sorry, princess. You gotta go. Remember how I said I wouldn’t hurt you? This is me keeping my promise. You gotta go.”
There was a pause. Then, “No—I need to see you first.”
“I can’t. I’m sorry.” The thought of not seeing her, maybe ever again, made his heart feel flat and his chest ache.
“But—Bart. No. I—we need to talk. I don’t want to go without seeing you. I can’t.”
There was something happening between them, something more than a fling. He’d been setting it aside, not wanting to deal with it, but he could hear it in her voice now. It hurt him to hear it and know he couldn’t give her any ease about it. “Babe, you have to go. It’s not safe. You have to go. We’ll work it out, but right now, you gotta move, and so do I.”
This pause was much longer, and Bart pulled the phone from his ear to see if the signal had been lost. It hadn’t. As he was about to say more, he heard, “Okay.” Then the line went clearly dead. Bart put his phone away and looked at Isaac. He couldn’t think about anything about that call right now.
The other calls were done, too. Bart wondered if the Scorpions in the Hall had made note of their huddle and phone calls; he guessed they’d find out. “Okay. Let’s go.” Isaac headed down the hallway, walking calmly. Show, Len, Havoc, and Bart fell in line. As they walked down the hall, Bart sensed the rest of the Scorpions fall in behind them, and he understood that there could very well be a bloodbath in the next few minutes.
When they went through the double doors, Sam was standing in front of the still bound and gagged Grady and Wallace. “You got somethin’ to tell me, Isaac?”
“No, Sam. I do not. This is Horde business. You are a guest in my house, and you are way out of line.”
“Vic tells me these guys came through a hole in that tight lid you said you had on the situation.”
At least Vic had the sense to look worried. Suddenly, there was an explosion very near Bart’s ear, and then Vic was on the ground holding his shoulder. Bart’s head started to ring ferociously.
That fast, every man in the room had a gun in his hands. Every man but the one writhing on the ground and the two bound to chairs—and Sam. He had his empty hands up in front of his chest. Most of the Scorpion guns were pointed at Havoc, who’d shot Vic. But Isaac was on Sam, and as soon as Shiv saw it, he turned his fifty caliber onto Isaac. And then lots of guns swiveled. Len was on Shiv. Ghost was on Len. Bart was on Ghost.
Howler was on Bart. But Howler spun around and fired twice in quick succession, and both Wallace and Grady drooped, blood oozing from small holes in their foreheads.
Before the echo of the reports had left the air in the concrete room, Havoc had his arm around Ghost’s neck and his gun in the old man’s ear. At that, Sam shouted, “Hold! Hold!”
Bart had no idea how Hav had gotten the drop, but he was damn glad he had.
Isaac put out his free hand, gesturing for the Horde to stand down as well. Havoc lifted the barrel of his gun to the ceiling but did not release his hold on Ghost.
“This is not the way of friends.” Sam’s voice was low.
“Agreed. Or guests.”
“Put ‘em away, brothers. I think Isaac and I need to talk on our own. Howler, clean up your mess. Will any of yours help him out with that?”
Len holstered his weapon. “I will. Hav—you got Vic?”
“Yeah. What do you want with him, boss?”
“Clean him up and lock him down. When we get a breath, we’ll vote it. Show—can you handle Ceej?”
Show nodded, his face grim. “Bring him in, lock him down?”
“Yeah.”
Sam walked up to Isaac, who eyed him suspiciously. “I want to talk about C.J.”
“He talk to you? Feed you bullshit? That’s Horde business to take care of, not for you to have a say.”
Sam put his hand on the younger, bigger man’s shoulder. “Isaac, let’s talk. I don’t want a rift. But we got trouble to work through.”
Isaac stared for a long time at the hand on his shoulder. “Yeah. Office.”
After the two Presidents left, Bart stood in the Room, while Howler and Len cleaned up the bodies of two men—one of whom had a wife and five children—and Havoc dealt with Vic, who’d lost consciousness. The Scorpions who hadn’t been given a task went back out to the Hall to drink Horde booze.
Rick came up to Bart. “Dude, let’s talk. Maybe you and I can smooth this shit over.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Riley stared at the phone for long, painful seconds after she ended the call. She didn’t understand. She was scared—if Bart was trying to scare her, then kudos, because her heart was doing the flamenco, and she felt dizzy and ill with the stress—but his call had been terrifying and cryptic, and confusion was making her sluggish. He’d said to pack and go. But they hadn’t booked a return flight yet. So, what? Go to the airport and hope for the best? Was that a thing that could
happen? She’d never booked travel for herself, so she just didn’t know. Pru did all the booking.
Okay, Pru. She needed to talk to Pru. She went through to Pru’s door and knocked. It was late—or early, one or the other—but Pru opened her door right away. She stepped back, and Riley went in.
“Oh, good. You’re awake. Things are weird.”
“Yeah. Omen up and left a while ago—right in the middle of... He barely said anything. Do you know what’s going on?”
“No. Just that we’re supposed to pack and go to the airport right now.”
“But that’s nuts!”
“I know. I don’t understand, but it must be bad. I think we should go. I just don’t how we’re supposed to make that happen.”
“Okay. I got it. You pack. I’ll make the arrangements. I guess I’ll try to get a shuttle?”
“Bart said Lilli and Shannon were helping. I don’t know what that means.”
There was a knock on what sounded like Riley’s door. Riley opened Pru’s door and saw Shannon, Lilli, and Mark standing in the hall. Shannon stepped forward. “Hi, Riley. Here’s what we’re doing. Lilli is going to take you all to the airport in the van. Badger has everybody who’s staying in Millview. We need to get moving as fast as possible, so if everybody will meet in the lobby in about, say, twenty minutes, I’ll go down and get tickets booked for everyone.”
Doug’s door opened. Doug was older than the others and had an unflappable demeanor, like somebody who’d seen and done a lot. He was perfectly cast as Show—probably the best, most obviously perfect casting in the movie. He’d been in the military before becoming an actor and had seen combat. So he had seen and done more than the rest of the actors, definitely.
He walked into the hallway, wearing only a pair of light grey pajama bottoms, almost like scrubs. His hair was tousled and his eyes still swollen with sleep. He looked past Shannon to Lilli and directed his question to her. “What’s the situation?”
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