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But only barely.
And now they maybe—probably—had butted into the business of another cartel.
It occurred to Dex that this was his fault. He’d led the mission yesterday; it had been his call to liberate the women. Should he throw himself on the grenade? Should he regret what he’d done? He didn’t. He would do the exact same thing right now. He’d do it even if they knew definitively that somebody like Santaveria was on the other side of the deal.
There was no scenario short of his own death that would have had him leaving those women in that basement.
No, that wasn’t right, was it? Sitting here at the table, mulling it over, Dex realized there was one scenario in which he would have left those women behind: if he’d had to choose between them and Kelsey. He’d choose her without a blink.
But that hadn’t been the choice.
Unless it was, and he just hadn’t seen it. Was there a way his call yesterday put Kelsey at risk?
Yes. Because it put the whole club at risk.
But he hadn’t brought her into the club. Fuck, unpacking his feelings about living this life and loving that woman was an impossible task. He’d told her he was done with doubts, but he’d misspoken. He was done acting on them, he hoped. Definitely not done having them.
“Yesterday was my call,” he finally said into the quiet. “I was point, I made the call—”
Before he could say more, Maverick cut in. “And it was the right call. I hope to hell nobody sitting at this table would have left those women in a cage, no matter what fuckery comes next.”
That was both a completely shocking statement coming from Mav, and completely on brand for him. On brand because if anybody was an actual do-gooder in the Bulls, it was Mav. Shocking because he was defending Dex, and that was not currently the man’s first impulse. He had to be thinking about Kelsey, too, right now, about his whole family, but still he’d stood up for Dex.
“Agreed,” Eight said. “You did the right thing, brother. No question. We just have to be ready for the fallout.”
“Any signs they know it was us?” Gargoyle asked.
Jazz shook his head. “Not yet. Those idiots have no fucking security. No surveillance, no cameras, nothing.”
“Bet they’ll have all of it soon,” Gunner said, his irreverent grin emerging again.
“Just in time for us to fuck them up,” Eight said. “Because those fuckers are wearing Oklahoma rockers, and we cannot let that stand. I want a lot more info before we do it, I want to know exactly what we’ll blow up before we blow it, so for now, while Apollo and Jazz keep working, the rest of us carry on like usual. New Year’s party is a go, but I want everybody on alert for trouble. And when we have what we need, ‘Hade’s Army’ is going down hard and bloody, one way or another.”
Every patch pounded on the table to express their emphatic agreement.
