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Rita stood with as much anger and attitude as a sulking seven year old being told to go to bed early. Only Rita wasn’t a kid, she was a twenty-seven year old with more grit, determination and resilience than anyone else at the table. They all knew it, they all almost bowed their heads with respect as she swept from the room, her pastel pink hair like a fighter jet plane trail behind her.
“Second thing wrong right now, where the fuck is Lyle?” Colt asked at a lower volume. Phantom looked up. Of course, the other empty chair belonged to Lyle. He’d been a member of the old MC, the Black Coyotes when it had been run by the cunt Cleaver, who had pulled the club into a Niagara Falls type of decline before Colt took control again. Lyle had been the one to track down Colt and April while they were on the run from the former Black Coyotes. People had gossiped about why on earth Colt had let him back into his new club at all. Phantom knew why. It was tactical. Keep your friends close, your enemies closer. Colt didn’t want a table full of cheerleaders. He wanted someone to talk back to him and doubt him and second guess him and keep him on his toes. He wanted what was best for the club, not him as a leader. It was one of the many reasons why Phantom respected Colt. That and the fact that Colt had saved his life.
And then as if on cue, Lyle strolled around the door into the bar, providing the perfect distraction, loping unhurriedly toward the table. Lyle smirked as he sauntered up to the table, sweeping a hand through his dark, lanky shoulder length hair. “Sorry I’m late, what did I miss? Rita’s usual tantrum?”
“Hey, fuck you, man-” Rafe immediately defended his sister.
Colt held up his hand to silence Rafe, and glowered at Lyle. If looks could kill, this would be a sharpened dagger.
Lyle sat down slowly, looking smug, like he was enjoying riling Colt up. Pouring fuel on the fire. And Phantom didn’t want to be around when that went up in flames. Someone was going to get hurt. Lyle seemed to have a bit of a chip on his shoulder when it came to Colt. Maybe it was because Colt was younger than him. Maybe it was because Colt had sent him packing to rehab when he’d been a raging alcoholic.
Colt let the crackling atmosphere burn itself out. He took a breath in and moved on, refusing to look back at Lyle, as Lyle sat back in his chair lazily.
“So, as I was fucking saying, we have a new assignment. Fuck the SoCal Demonios,” Colt waved his hand, “our new partners,” he took a breath and glanced around the table, “are the fucking Guardians of Purity.”
Phantom raised his eyebrows. Others were more vocal.
“A white supremacist group? Are you fucking kidding me?”
Colt banged his fist on the table. “Believe me, I wish I was kidding, I raised hell saying no to this, fuck I… me not wanting to work with the Guardians was what was got me kicked out of this MC in the first place…”
People quietened at that. Yeah, they had all heard the stories. Colt came out of prison expecting to resume his position of President, but it had been taken over by a weasel of a Prez, who had put a hit out on Colt, and had tried to imprison April as the MCs gang bang fuck toy. Needless to say, April and Colt hadn’t put up with that. They escaped, led the MC on a merry chase around the states, then came back, blew up the former clubhouse, and shot the former Prez, point blank. Phantom had heard a rumor that Colt wasn’t the one to pull the trigger on the pretender of a Prez, Cleaver. He heard that April was the one to finally put a bullet through his skull. Phantom placed his faith in rumors. What people said about him, well, most of that was true.
If Blue said work with the Guardians of Purity, Colt would have pushed back on Blue, he knew. Phantom had heard the arguments, the two of them roaring at each other, furniture being upended, glasses being smashed. Punches thrown. Colt would only agree to this if it was the only option on the table. So if Colt made an allowance for the Guardians of Purity, then Phantom trusted that there was good reason for it. Phantom otherwise wouldn’t be going anywhere near the hate group.
People settled down, grumbling begrudgingly, but listening to hear the rest of the plan.
Colt cleared his throat. “The FBI are supervising closely. We’re working with them on this one…”
“Fuck! How do you sleep at night?” Jared spat.
Colt gave Jared a long, cold look. “Not well.”
Jared ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “We’ll get them in the end, right? The Guardians, I want them all either behind bars or in the ground. Swear to me that no one gets hurt, we have no innocent blood on our hands, and… we fucking finish them all.” Jared was suddenly serious, intense.
Colt nodded. “I swear it. We’ll get them. The FBI will do it the legal way. Any leftovers, we’ll sweep them up. I promise it. We’ll fuck about ferrying their shit from point A to point B but no one will get hurt from what we are doing. They are dead men walking.”
Jared nodded, matching the intensity of Colt for a moment, both men united in their hate.
“They have loads of shit on their shopping list and we are basically delivering it. Random stuff, chemicals, stuff that falls off the back of a truck from pharmaceutical companies. Lab equipment.”
Phantom didn’t know what was going on, but Colt had it in hand. He trusted Colt. The Black Coyotes MC were fully allied with the FBI, something that had shocked Phantom at first but he’d quickly gotten used to it. That’s how they got immunity from the local cops. The FBI Agent, Blue, would come over to the clubhouse and meet with Colt. Meetings that went well into the wee hours of the night. Blue was April’s father, Colt’s ol’ lady, so it was a family affair. Sometimes the Mayor and the local police sergeant would attend, too. Colt came out of those meetings looking like shit, disheveled, bags under his eyes, his hair a puffy mess like he’d run his hands through his hair a million times.
“Well, that’s me off the runs, huh?” Rafe tried to joke to relieve the tension.
Eyes swiveled to him. Rafe and Rita were mixed race, they had a father who was Afro-Caribbean and a mother who was White American, not that they’d seen either for years.
“Yeah, fuck Rafe, I’m sorry, you and Rita… yeah, I can’t have them seeing you-”
“Cos we’re half black? I’ve got work to do at The Glasshouse, no skin off my back.”
“We need another brother for these Guardians of Purity runs we’ll be taking on, so we’ve got lawyers working on getting Nix out of prison-”
“April’s a lawyer, isn’t she?” Jared asked.
“Yeah, corporate law, you dunce,” Rafe piped up. “Totally different thing.”
“And she’s busy, anyway, with planning the black tie charity ball, and the farmers market, and all the other local community shit she’s involved in. And being a mother,” Colt added.
