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“Yes. What happened today was—”
Brick grunts, interrupting me. “Five o’clock tomorrow at The Empty Shot in Livermore. Come alone.”
“Yes, sir.”
He disconnects the call before I can say anything else. I blow out a breath and hang up. Brick sounded pissed, and for good reason. He’s probably going to expect some answers from me. Guess I need to get the guys together before I head out so I know what to tell him.
Hanging my head, I feel my body sag with tiredness.
There is no question. Fat Mike and his lackies need to be dealt with, and I am certain there will be more blood spilled before this is over.
ChapterSeven
Maverick
The next day, the brothers and I meet at a place Fat Mike and the rest don’t frequent because it is owned by three brothers, one of whom is out and proud of it. Something Fat Mike refuses to be around, which works for us. We had helped them out a time or two, which means we can use their back room whenever needed.
I had hoped we could come up with something simple and straight to the point. However, the guys spend the first hour and a half bitching about anything and everything Fat Mike has pulled. By the time we finally get down to talking about the main problem and throwing out ideas about how to deal with it, I just want it to be done.
We have reached a decision, though. Fat Mike and his followers, some I have known for more years than I care to think about, have to be eliminated, and it needs to happen in one swoop; otherwise we leave ourselves open to retaliation.
It’s kill or be killed.
At the end of the almost three-hour long meeting, we all leave with a heaviness in our chests that hadn’t been there before. It’s nice to finally have a direction, a promise of an end to the shitty situation our club has found itself in, but what we need to do is going to come with a heavy price.
I just hope everyone is prepared for that. Truthfully, I’m not sure I am. But this needs to be done if we are to survive.
Not wanting to be late for my meeting with Brick, I rush out. Fix and Smoke argued that they were coming with me. That I needed somebody to watch my back.
I made my case, telling them I thought it would be best if I went alone. Show Brick I wasn’t worried about meeting with him.
Even though I am.
It took some doing, but they finally relented. Although, with the looks they gave each other right before I left, I wouldn’t be surprised if they left five minutes after I did, following at a distance.
Glancing in my side mirror as I curve through Altamont Pass, I snort. Sure enough, a few miles back, two bikes come around the curve. I’m annoyed, but also happy to know I have support on this.
Settling in to the ride, my mind turns over what could happen today. After several minutes of going over thewhatifs, most of which are not pleasant to think about, I decide to switch gears to something a lot more…enjoyable.
Jenny…
The likelihood of seeing her today is nonexistent, yet I can’t help but imagine how fantastic it would be. Maybe I’ll get up the nerve to talk to her this time. Smirking at the fact I still need to build up the courage to talk to a pretty girl, I pull off the freeway and make my way toward the bar.
I know I’m early. Maybe I’ll be able to get my thoughts in order before Brick gets here.
But as I park, I notice two bikes by the front entrance and sigh. Time’s up.
A sudden feeling of unease washes through me. I begin to wonder if it was a good idea to come alone. I should probably wait for Smoke and Fix to pull in, tell them I changed my mind about them joining me, but I just can’t shake the feeling showing up by myself is better. Show Brick I’m a man of my word.
Sucking in a breath, I dismount and make my way to the door, running a hand through my hair. With each step, I remind myself how I’ve always had a good relationship with Dead Man’s Curse, hoping Brick takes that into consideration.
I reach for the door handle, then pause. “I hope I’m not wrong about them,” I whisper before pulling open the door.
It isn’t hard to spot Brick, even in the dim lighting. Besides being built, the man just has an aura around him that demands respect. My eyes stray to Mustang sitting next to him, not surprised to see him here. What does make me pause is the large bandage covering his right ear. I knew Fat Mike had taken some shots at him. I just hadn’t realized he’d been hit. Both men lean toward each other, talking in low voices. As I walk up, they straighten, their hard gazes taking me in as I grab a chair across from them and sit down.
I nod. “Brick. Mustang.”
“Maverick,” Brick responds, while Mustang just returns my nod. There is a tense moment as we sit there, Brick flagging down a server to bring us some beers and chips with salsa.
