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“Then you do what you have to do with her on that fucking mountain and you leave her there for the detonation. You get me?” Mercy growled.
With his jaw popping, Sig stared back with his eyes narrowed on the much bigger man. After a few tense moments, he nodded.
Whip would’ve agreed, too. It made sense. Leaving her up there with the men when the explosives went off would leave no evidence behind of whatever he planned to do to Red’s mother.
But what Sig was planning on doing with three kids, Whip had no fucking clue. He wasn’t sure if the VP should be raising a damn puppy, forget three young children.
“How old are her kids?” Hunter asked, with his brow furrowed and hands on his hips.
“All three under five,” Sig answered.
“You separating them for a reason?” the Shadow asked next.
“Yeah,” Trip answered before Sig could. “They’re comin’ with us. They’re family.”
The six Shadows shared a glance between them, then Mercy, wearing a scowl, nodded. “Don’t care what you do with the kids. That’s on all of you. As long as you aren’t dispatching them.”
“That ain’t the plan,” Trip assured him.
“Here’s how it’s going to go, then… We’ll all go up together and my team will take control of the men while your crew handles the women and children. You said you have keys to one of their vans. If you’re using that to transport them elsewhere, make sure to cover the windows so no one can see your cargo. Best if you restrain the women and the older teens while transporting them to wherever you’re taking them. For your safety and theirs. Your guys get busted hauling kidnapped women and children, it’ll blow this operation wide open. We won’t feel the heat but you will. Your club will be decimated worse than that mountain.
“But this is important, so pay attention. I’m only going to say this once… No matter what fucking happens up there, that compound’s getting a facelift. Stay on schedule and get the fuck out of there before detonation time. You remain behind, nothing’s going to be left of you to scrape together for a funeral. You all get that?”
A chorus of yeahs rose around Whip.
Mercy turned to Trip. “Bottom line is, don’t expect us to come save your asses. I’m responsible for my men. You’re responsible for yours.”
Trip nodded. “That’s the plan.” The prez turned toward Whip’s brothers and his gaze swept over all of them. “Will go over the timeline with you. We got it down to the second. We gotta be organized, efficient and work as a team. Anyone havin’ second thoughts?” The prez waited for a few seconds and when none were voiced, he continued, “Great time for a reminder…” He pounded his fist twice over his heart and yelled out, “From the ashes we rise…”
A loud stomping of boots and chest beating filled the garage, causing goosebumps to rise along Whip’s skin.
His voice rose in unison with the rest of his brothers as they yelled, “For our brothers we live and die!”
“Hell hath no fury like the Blood Fury!” Sig continued yelling at the top of his lungs. “Boom! Welcome to hell, motherfuckers!”
Thank fuck for the moon. Unlike the Shadows, the Fury didn’t have access to night vision goggles. If it had been a cloudy night, working their way up the heavily wooded mountain would’ve been more treacherous than it already was.
They needed to stay out of sight until they had all the Shirleys—or whoever was now a part of the Pennsylvania branch of the Guardians of Freedom—restrained or dispatched. They didn’t want any of them warning the rest so it turned into a gun fight. If it did, their plan would go down the shitter and who knew who would survive that.
The odds were better if they hit the clan by surprise.
While the group hoofed it up Hillbilly Hill, they also had to make sure they didn’t get caught in any booby traps. They had no idea if any still existed or even if they ever existed in the first place. But to make sure they didn’t set any off, the Shadows kept them off any obvious human paths and stuck to the tighter, less obvious wildlife trails.
However, several times in their climb to the main clearing of the Shirley compound, too many of them stepped in holes, tripped over downed branches and stumbled over rocks. Smothered curses and bitching rose around Whip as they attempted to move as a unit.
The Shadows, none who fucking tripped, probably thought they were a group of bumbling biker idiots who couldn’t kill a fucking fly with an oversized swatter.
Every once in a while, the lead Shadow, Mercy, would lift a fist into the air, stopping the procession. They’d all freeze in place and hold their breath to just listen.
