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“Fuck.” He hissed as he clenched his fists. “We’ve got a problem with that, brother. The fucking feds have eyes on us twenty-fucking-four-seven.”
I stepped further into the office. “I know, but I’m telling you, I give no fucks. That’s my woman’s family they’ve messed with. And my club family. I will fucking lay down and die for my family.”
His breathing turned ragged as he nodded. “Okay. But you don’t do this on your own. And we make sure there’s no fucking survivors.”
I exhaled a long breath. “Agreed.”
The rest of the day passed in a blur. I set Hailee and Jean up at my place while Bronze chose to stay in a motel. I’d offered him a bed, but he’d said no. It was probably for the best. This way there was less chance of conflict between the two of us.
Hailee had finally located her friend, Leona, late that afternoon. She’d been admitted to hospital with burns to her arms. Her friend was worried about miscarrying, but after tests were done, it was determined she hadn’t been pregnant to begin with. I was just relieved she’d survived the fire, because Hailee had been freaking out all afternoon while waiting on news. No one had died. Five staff members had been hospitalized, including her old boss, Rachel. Hailee showed me her heart when she spent time visiting Rachel, even after Rachel had treated her so badly.
Just after midnight, Hailee fell asleep, giving me an opportunity to go over the plans King and I had set in motion late that afternoon. Silver Hell wouldn’t fucking know what hit them when we got started.
26
Devil
“Scott fucking Cole!” King greeted the president of the Brisbane chapter with a slap on the back early the next night when he entered the clubhouse bar.
“How are you, brother?” Scott asked, a look of concern in his eyes.
“Ready to get to work,” King answered.
He’d called for reinforcements yesterday afternoon when we sat down with Hyde and Nitro to work out our plan of attack. With the fed’s eyes on us, we knew we needed numbers. Scott had been all too willing to bring his members down to help.
“I managed to round up twenty-six members. That gonna be enough?” Scott asked.
“Yeah, that should do it,” King said. “You bring Havoc? That crazy motherfucker gets shit done.”
Scott nodded. “He’s outside.”
King motioned for Kree to pour drinks as everyone filed into the bar. Soon the room was chaotic as we all greeted each other. I hadn’t seen some of the members in years.
Jason Reilly’s gaze met mine with a grin. “Devil, brother. Long fucking time.”
“Heard you got married,” I said.
Before he could reply, King bellowed, “Drink up. We’ve got shit to do.” He raised his glass and then drained it.
Drinks were passed around the room, and we all followed suit before breaking apart into the groups we’d been designated.
Each group consisted of about eight men, and we had six groups in total. Each would be leaving separately in an effort to distract the feds assigned to trail us. There were only so many cops to go around; our goal was to send them out with the first few groups of members who left. The last couple would be the members who would head over to Silver Hell’s clubhouse.
Night had fallen by the time the first group left in a dark, tinted van just after nine. We’d received information from different sources that Silver Hell was celebrating what they deemed a victory at their clubhouse that night. We figured the party would be in full swing by the time we got there.
The next three groups were each about eight strong, and the members left on their bikes. The last two groups were in vans, similar to the first one that left. Our plan worked when the feds followed the first three groups, leaving the last few to ride out undetected.
I was in the second van with King, Hyde, Nitro, Scott, Havoc, and Kick. We travelled the first fifteen minutes in silence, until Havoc spoke.
“You’re confident we can pull this off? With the helicopter.”
Hyde, who was sitting across from him in the back of the van, nodded. “Yeah. Our pilot knows his shit.”
Havoc seemed happy with that answer. After that, we sat in silence again for the rest of the hour trip.
When we drew near the Silver Hell clubhouse, Kick slowed the van to ease it into the bush whe
re we’d worked out we would park until the helicopter pilot had completed his task. It was far enough away to prevent us being injured.
