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“Shep. My name is Shep,” I said, but King chuckled.
“I know, Prospect, but a shepherd’s a sheep boy. From now on, you’re Sheep until you’ve earned the right to give yourself a road name, got it?”
All I could do was nod, even though I fucking hated it. If I wanted a future with the Kings, I needed to accept this bullshit, for me and Jonas. Once I got out of this trailer park, everything would be a lot better for us.
When we got back to the clubhouse, a few of us hopped into different vehicles. King ordered me into a white van with five seats, so I got into the back, squashed between Scar and his boyfriend Charley. If you asked me, the drive took too long, and the more time we spent fucking around, the closer Jonas was to that camp, and I wanted to bust him free as soon as possible. From what King had said on the way back to Jonas’s house, if we needed to, we were going to drive toward Mexico tomorrow morning—it was 3:00 a.m. already, so technically it was today—then hit the camp once we’d done surveillance on it. While I understood why we had to take precautions, I was antsy and ready to fucking kill everyone guarding the jail Jonas was in, too.
I glanced behind our seats and took in the three large red duffel bags Undertaker had thrown in, and as tempted as I was to ask what was in them, I kept my mouth shut.
When we got to the neighborhood, I directed King toward Jonas’s house, and he drove as carefully as he could, switching off the headlights.
“Ski masks on,” he snapped.
I stared down at the black piece of material with holes in it for my eyes and nose that Undertaker had given me earlier, and I shoved it over my head, covering nearly my entire face. The other four men in the van did the same, including King.
When King pulled the van to a stop outside of Jonas’s parents’ white picket fence, he turned off the ignition and twisted to look at me. He held out a syringe over the middle part of his and Dallas’s seat. Dallas was King’s boyfriend, and he seemed to always be at King’s side. I wanted that with Jonas, which was fucked, but I didn’t care. Dallas was a nice enough guy and ordinary looking, which was a strange way to think about him, but I’d assumed King’s boyfriend would be someone like... Undertaker. Dallas had brown hair, long on the top and shaved on the sides, and hazel eyes. He was also built more on the slender side with tight muscles. I could seewhyKing was attracted to him.
“Sheep, this is for you. Undertaker said to stab him anywhere except the eyes,” King said.
“What’s in it?” I asked, taking the syringe. There was a cap on the needle so I couldn’t nick myself.
Dallas cocked his head to the side. “With Undertaker, it’s best not to ask.”
I took his word as gospel because the others chuckled in amusement.
“You have a gun?” King asked.
I shook my head, and he passed me a Glock, which made me smirk. “I’ll like being a prospect.”
Scar slapped me on the shoulder. Charley did the same from my other side. “This is the easy part, Sheep. It’s gonna get a lot harder than this, trust me. You’ll be washing and waxing our bikes for months for this. Hell, maybe years!” He sounded way too fucking happy.
I cringed. I fucking hated cleaning, but again, I was willing to do what I had to in order to get Jonas and I somewhere safe.
I shoved the gun roughly into the front of my jeans, and Charley sighed, but no one said a word. I could get a holster later if they let me keep the gun.
Scar opened the door and slid out, and I followed him while the rest of the guys got out. Behind us, two more vans parked a little farther back, but the Kings stayed in them, and according to the president’s plan, they were backup in case something went wrong.
“Ready, Prospect?” King asked.
I nodded in answer and began to creep my way toward the house. I was careful, checking the outside for cameras, but either Jonas’s parents trusted their neighbors or they were stupid. I went straight to the front door and wiggled the knob, but like I’d expected, it was locked. Next, I went to the window to the right. One nudge, and the thick glass surrounded by a white frame moved upward.
Idiots.This was as easy as breaking in to Chet’s house. I popped out the screen and slipped inside, careful not to knock anything on a small table beside the window. Glancing around, I took note of where I was—in the living room. I moved through the archway and to the front door in a small hallway. I studied the walls and ceiling and found no security system in place, so I unlocked the knob and opened the door for the others.
King grunted. “That was too easy.”
I laughed lightly. “They think they’re safe, even with us across the river. They think the cops and God will protect them.”
King shook his head. “You get the husband. Jab him with that cocktail. We’ll deal with the wife. We’ll gag and blindfold her and tie her up in the bathroom.”
“Got it.” I led them up a set of stairs. In the darkness, we couldn’t see much, so King tugged out a small flashlight and turned it on, the beam emitting a dim glow that hopefully wasn’t bright enough to wake up Jonas’s parents but did give us some direction.
When I got to the first door on my left, I opened it gently, peering inside, and King gave me the light I needed to look, but it was empty and appeared to be Jonas’s bedroom. If there was more time, I might’ve gone in and studied it to know him better, but I would rather ask him questions about himself and have him at my side.
The second room, a door to the right, was the bathroom, and the next one was the spot we were looking for. Two people were sleeping in the bed, their backs facing each other.
King made a hand gesture to Scar, Charley, and Dallas, and it was toward Jonas’s mother’s side, and Scar gave him a thumbs-up. When King gave me a similar sign but directed at Jonas’s dad, I nodded and headed toward that side of the bed.
I was cautious, stepping as quietly as I could. The bedroom had carpet, and there was no creaking, which made our footsteps silent. With as much speed as I could manage, I took off the cap to the needle, slapped my hand over the fucker’s mouth, and slammed the syringe into his shoulder, shoving the plunger down so the liquid was injected into him.
