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Normally the garage was closed on Saturdays unless they were working on their own shit. Or on the rare occasion Dutch had enough work to pay overtime. So, them being seen there wasn’t out of the ordinary. But what was out of the ordinary were the six Shadows.
This morning they weren’t dressed in tactical gear, but kind of… normal.
Not that there was anything normal about them. Even dressed in jeans, T-shirts and light jackets—probably to conceal their weapons—they stood out.
The Shadows had entered through the rear door along with Trip and Judge.
Even with the whole MC there, including the prospects, it was fucking crazy how small that garage felt as soon as those six men stepped inside.
Whip had no doubt the six-man team could take down a small hostile government on their own.
Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if they had.
Why did he even fucking care? He didn’t. He just wanted to get this whole thing over with and wake up Sunday morning with the Shirleys in the Fury’s rearview and everyone else intact and ready for a safe future ahead.
Though, it might take him awhile to become whole again himself. Waking up alone in his bunkhouse rack for the last three mornings sucked motherfucking ass.
He hadn’t tried to call or text Fallon. She hadn’t done the same, either.
Not that he expected otherwise.
But at least he could live with the fact that she was safe and away from the fuckery that was about to go down later that night.
How he felt didn’t matter. The goddamn hole in his chest didn’t matter, either.
Nothing mattered except keeping the Fury in one piece and all the women and children safe. That included Fallon. She might not be an ol’ lady but, in his book, she still counted.
To keep everyone out of danger, the cancer threatening them had to be eradicated. And that malignant tumor was the Shirleys.
Even if he wanted a future with Fallon and, for some reason, she wanted the same…
Didn’t matter anymore. It was too late.
Dinner with his mother hadn’t gone well. The ride back to Manning Grove went even worse.
Then a text from Ozzy drove that last nail into his coffin.
Fallon hadn’t wasted any damn time. The motel manager told him to come get his shit as soon as he could. Or if he had a chance, Ozzy would drop it off at the garage.
Whip texted him back and told him not to take it there. Otherwise, he’d have to explain what happened with Fallon to more than just the Original.
He hadn’t wanted to deal with that. Not yet. That time would come soon enough.
He preferred to suffer in silence for a while. Let that cut heal and scab over before everyone tried to poke their finger in it.
Because, fuck him, his club brothers couldn’t resist prodding at each other’s wounds.
Trip glanced around, his gaze landed on his half-brother Sig. “Everybody here?”
Sig had taken a head count prior to the president and sergeant at arms walking in the back door. “Yeah.”
Even Woody and Dozer were included this time since the bar was closed this early in the morning. Trip wanted everyone aware of the plan and what was going down. He warned them all that they needed to stay on their toes.
None of them needed that reminder.
Dodge had already gotten the orders for him, Dozer and Woody to prepare Crazy Pete’s for the party tonight. He also made sure to have Micah working the bar since the bartender had no ties to the club—besides working at Pete’s—and could be used as an alibi.
The Synners would be playing on stage tonight, too. That meant Syn’s bandmates would make witnesses if needed, though they weren’t aware of why the party was being held at Pete’s.
Syn wasn’t, either. Yet. Dodge’s ol’ lady only thought her band was playing for Whip’s birthday.
Trip had already spread the word that all the Fury kids would be taken to Shade and Chelle’s house in town for the night since it now had a good security system. Josie, along with one of her girlfriends, would entertain them with movies, games, pizza and loads of junk food.
Jude would be there, too. Even at only fourteen, Shade had taught his son how to be proficient with knives and the boy was damn impressive with his skills. Shade had a lot of confidence in the kid to keep the next generation of Fury safe if he had to.
Everyone hoped he never got that opportunity.
Maddie was asked to stay at the house, too, but insisted on going to Pete’s since she was now old enough to drink and party with the club. Shade didn’t like it but said it wasn’t worth the argument or raising suspicions since, of course, he couldn’t tell Chelle’s oldest daughter the truth.
Without a word, the Shadow named Brick moved to the stack of weapons Shade and Easy had gathered from their hiding spots. Every single weapon piled on the concrete in the next bay over had been taken from the Shirleys. The man squatted next to the stack, picking them up one by one. He racked shotguns, checked bolt actions, peered down barrels and tested triggers. The entire time shaking his head.
