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“Oh really?”
“Yup. Got all sorts of info out of him. Having a meeting about it.”
“What time?”
“Now.”
***
Ghost took his seat at the scarred wooden table in the dimly lit room that was crowded with his brothers, a room that wasn’t damaged by the carnage from the attack. The common room of the clubhouse was currently in a state of remodel, plywood boarding up the gaping holes.
Butcher looked over at him. “Nice of you to join us. Think maybe next time you could answer your damn phone, so I don’t gotta send a man clear out there to get you?”
Wasn’t the first time his President had reprimanded him for something. Wouldn’t be the last. And right now, the mood he was in, he really didn’t give a shit. He caught the smile on Shades’ face as he tried to hide it. Then his eyes slid to Blood, who stood against the wall, his arms folded. The man winked at him and blew him a kiss.
Ghost made a kissy face back at him.
Judging by the laughter in the room, the rest of his brothers enjoyed it, which only seemed to infuriate his President even more. He slammed the gavel down.
“Knock it off! And come to fucking order!”
The room got quiet. Ghost’s eyes moved around the room. Even Undertaker was there, which meant the New Orleans Chapter was going to play a part. How big remained to be seen.
“Most of you have already heard. DKs found their snitch. Guy named Mugs. Ran the Georgia Hell’s Harvesters before the DKs patched them in. From what they got outta him, Florida’s half crazy. His men are getting more and more leery of him. Seems their VP was trying to cut a deal with Mugs behind Florida’s back. Trying to pull Mugs from the DKs, get him the fuck out of there. Deal was, if Quill did that, Mugs gets his men to throw in with Quill in a bid for the Jacksonville Chapter. Seems the VP has ambitions.”
“Balls, too, if he was thinking to take the newly patched over Hell’s Harvesters out from under the Devil Kings.”
“None of ‘em were too happy with that deal. Seems if they gotta swing one way or the other, they’d all rather swing toward the Death Heads.”
“Great.”
“So, this guy was going to pull his whole crew and move ‘em down to Jacksonville.”
“Seems Quill promised him the VP position.” He shrugged. “A lot more power than he was ever gonna see with the DKs.”
“And how does all this bullshit work into our plan?”
He grinned. “Perfectly.”
“So, you’re sayin’, we take out Florida, it falls right into Quill’s plans?”
“Yup. He steps into the President’s position without having to make a move.”
“You think the Death Heads are gonna let us take out the fucking Jacksonville Chapter President and let it slide? No fucking way.”
“I’ve got some news on that,” a deep voice said.
Ghost and the rest of them turned to look. Undertaker leaned against the wall, his arms folded, his face in the shadows until he pushed off the wall and stepped forward into the glow of the light that hung over the table.
“Got some informants on the Louisiana-Texas border. Word out of Texas is the Death Heads were thinking about sending in their Nomads to Jacksonville. Lookin’ to clean house. Seems their meeting with him in Sturgis opened some eyes to how fucking crazy the guy’s becoming.”
Butcher’s eyes connected with Undertaker’s, and he nodded. “Good news. Seems we’ll be savin’ ‘em a trip.”
Undertaker nodded.
“You gonna join us for this little party?” Butcher asked.
Undertaker grinned. “Wouldn’t miss it, old man.”
