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EPILOGUE
a few months later
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At the knock on hisoffice door, Cooper called, “Yeah, come in!”
Zach swung the door open. “Hey. We’re back.”
Cooper closed his laptop and leaned back in his chair, indicating that Zach should sit on the sofa. “And?”
“Went smooth. Ronnie will sit with us, too. That leaves just Diego and his crew in Henderson.” Zach grinned and leaned back. “If this works, Harridan won’t know what the fuck happened to him.”
“That’s the plan.”
After that night in Vegas, when they’d ended Glenn Cooney and Freddie Scott and learned that the Clark County sheriff was playing the crews in his jurisdiction against each other, Cooper, Ben, and Zach had sat down together over beers and steaks in Ben’s back yard and hatched a plan for what amounted to an outlaw ‘council’ in Clark County.
One of their first tasks upon arriving in Laughlin had been to figure out who’d already marked out territory and whether they could be made allies or would have to be dealt with as enemies. They’d managed to effect some kind of working relationship with most of the crews working the same region, either because they were playing on different fields or had worked out a compensation plan. But none of them had really become allies yet; the Bulls were too new.
Until the Bulls had uncovered Harridan’s scheme to play both sides with every outlaw crew in his jurisdiction, taking their envelopes with one hand and pitting them against each other with the other. In the interest of outlaw relations, the Bulls had alerted the other crews, and they’d all wanted a piece of the sheriff.
But he was the sheriff, and a high-profile one at that. It wasn’t a matter of simply disappearing him. Cooper had preached patience and suggested that if they all worked together, they could neutralize Harridan far more subtly, and effectively, than if somebody put a bullet between his eyes and tried to hide the body.
Better to get what he’d taken from them and send him off in humiliation.
Everybody saw the wisdom in that, but getting them all to agree to sit down together regularly, like some kind of Mafia shit, had been a harder sell. It was the middle of the summer, months after the fires, and they were still working on diplomacy. But Zach had just delivered the very good news that there was only one holdout left—and Cooper knew what carrot to use to get Diego to the table.
“Good. You and I will sit down with Diego. Maybe tomorrow.”
“Not Ben?”
“Nah. Diego doesn’t like Ben. He’s a talker and doesn’t trust people who don’t say much. Thinks they’re hiding something.”
Zach laughed. “And Ben thinks the same thing about people who talk a lot.”
“Like I said,” Cooper chuckled, “you and me.”
“Gotcha.” He stood. “I’m gonna head out. I told Lyra I’d help her at the gallery, breaking down the shit from last night’s show.”
“Okay—hey that was cool, last night. Geneva’s been talking about it nonstop since.”
Grinning like the proud partner he was, Zach said, “Yeah. Lyra’s pretty fucking amazing. Did you see there was a write-up about it in the paper this morning?”
“I missed that. We should get a paper copy and put it on the bulletin board downstairs.”
“I think Ben bought all the paper copies in Nevada. I’ll see if I can pry one out of his hands.” Zach went to the door. “I probably won’t be back tonight, unless you need me.”
Cooper waved him off. “Go. Have a good night. I’m gonna pack up here and see if I can pry my old lady away from work early tonight to look at a few of these houses. I’m getting fuckin’ sick of the clubhouse.”
Finding a house they both liked had proved to be a challenge. Cooper was about ready to just have one built—but he’d looked into it, and it was not an inexpensive option.
“Good luck with that,” Zach snarked as he closed the door.
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~oOo~
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