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“I’d rather not.”
Wanting to know what Leo would do, I turn to him and ask, “You think I should?”
“Fuck no. For them to show up in force, they’d have us cuffed and on our way to jail in no time. I’m sure everyone agrees, but I’d rather go down fighting then simply give up.”
That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.
“This’ll be a fight none of us have fought before,” Sparky warns.
I look down at the law, who are trying not to make it obvious they’re searching for traps.
“We have all the time in the world, Mr. Jackson!” the sheriff calls out.
“Yeah? Well we have more.”
The sons are upon the roof keeping watch with instructions to only shoot if the law shoots first, or to let off warning shots if they try to break through the gates. Us old-timers, as the sons call us, are in the back room.
“From what I can see, we have three options,” Sparky advises. “One, we talk to them, see exactly what it is they’re here for. Two, we hold up in here for as long as possible and wait to see what occurs in the meantime. Or three, we open fire, setting off World War III.”
“As much as I’d love to take out the law, it’s not a wise choice for the long run,” Pope claims.
I think it’s safe to say, we’d love to take out the law, but it’s a last fucking resort.
“We hold up,” I say. “We have enough supplies to get us through for a while, and enough guns to take out more than our fair share if need be. I’d like more, but we don’t have them, so it’s pointless in wishing things were different.”
“What do you think the warrant could be based on?” Ricky questions.
I shrug. “Could be anything.”
Whatever it is, it’s based on bullshit.
“We can’t break rank,” Pope growls, slamming his hand on the table.
Sparky nods. “That we can agree on, brother.”
“And the Haywards didn’t see this coming?”
“Apparently not, Ricky. I was on the phone to Ritchie just before this kicked off. He was frustrated how quiet shit was,” I explain. “I’ll call him back and let him know what’s going on.”
“So it’s decided. We wait this out,” Sparky declares as the brothers voice their agreement.
With that, I bang down the gavel.
Walking out of the back room, I dig out my phone and close myself off inside the kitchen. Turning the faucet on full blast, I call Ritchie back. Using the water to drown out the conversation, I keep my voice low. I can’t risk the feds using their technology to hear us inside.
“Ritchie speaking.”
“It’s Cas. So you know, the club is surrounded with feds. We’ve locked down tighter than a nun’s cunt. This has to be Effie’s move.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah, shit.”
“How are you going to play it?”
“We’re having an old-fashioned standoff. If they shoot, we go down fighting.”
“I’ll let my brothers know.”
