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I scoff, and he shrugs, still smirking.
Angling the laptop in my direction, he starts showing me things that would normally be right over my head, but I quickly learn how they have been tracking phones, digital footprints left from social media, emails and apps, and how they have narrowed down the Reapers’ whereabouts to five different locations between Santa Cruz and Watsonville.
As Baz talks, I call Slasher, Munroe, Stretch and Doug over to listen in as well. He opens the folder, laying out photos of the houses, some of the Reapers, and one of Gunner and Rusty as they laugh about something.
Low growls sound around me as my club brothers see the photo of Gunner.
He fucking betrayed us all.
We all want a piece of him, and I’m determined to make sure we get that. Gunner won’t get a quick death if I have anything to do with it.
“With this information, you can arrange a timed attack on all locations at once with the help of the Diamond Crew,” Baz suggests, sitting back in his chair to take a swig of hisJD. “They are still watching all locations, so if they move somewhere else, we’ll know.”
“Which house is Gunner in?” I ask, and Baz stares at me for a moment, his eyes dark and analyzing. “I just wanna know, man. I’m not going to go half cocked and hit his location. I believe in your strategies.”
Giving me a sharp nod, Baz breaks our eye lock, but eyes the men around us. He’s not sure one of them won’t go off half cocked, though.
“Leave us,” I snap, and without argument, my club brothers move away, giving Baz and I the space we need. “They’re gone. Now tell me.”
Taking another slow swig of the amber liquid in his glass, Baz takes his sweet fucking time before responding.
“I trust that you won’t go off half cocked, but your men all crave vengeance on Gunner, especially your VP.”
“With fucking reason,” I hiss and he nods.
“I’m not saying that he doesn’t have a good fucking reason. But Dante needs this to go as smoothly as possible. Minimal casualties and a war won. He especially doesn’t want another President shot down. This community is scared, and even though you are outlaws, they rely on your protection.”
“I’m aware of our fucking duty,” I snap, and he grins.
“You’re just as fucking mouthy as you were when you were a teenager.”
I roll my eyes. “Are you going to tell me which house Gunner is in or fucking not?”
“The outcome is on you. Don’t forget that,” he rasps, and then points to one of the crosses on the map that pinpoints the Reapers safe houses. “He’s shacked up with Rusty Hunt and his sister. We’ve had one sighting of Brian Miller at that location, too.”
Fuck. We really have them.
It’s not lost on me that perhaps we should have asked for more assistance from the Diamond Crew long before this war escalated. They have associates and crew that have skills that simply can’t be found in an MC.
I can’t think like that though. The past is the past. It can’t be changed.
But the future. Well, we are about to write it in our favor.
“Thanks for this,” I mutter, eyeing the map and the address that currently houses our biggest enemy.
“Happy to help. Scum like the Reapers need to be dealt with. Cops’ hands are tied with fucking red tape, but us,” he grins almost sinisterly, and I get a glimpse of his wicked nature, “we were put on this earth to be the nightmare for the nightmares.”
He stands then, closing his laptop and pushing the file closer to me.
“Are you sticking around for the final showdown?” I ask and he bobs his head.
“Wouldn’t fucking miss it. Reach out when you want to strategize a plan of attack.”
We shake hands again, and as Baz leaves, I turn to see all eyes on the Mafia man as he walks back out the clubhouse door.
“Close your mouths.” I grumble toward the Cruz Cunts, who all look to be drooling over the dark and sinister man. Even my fucking princess.
The Cunts giggle, turning back to each other and whispering excitedly, while my brothers sit on bar stools with fucking dreamy eyes.
