Chapter Nineteen
Banshee
The ride to Pine Bluffs gave me just enough time to think about Aspen and worry that I wasn’t there to watch over her. She’d been on the verge of running since the moment we moved back to the clubhouse.
It started when I moved her into my room. There was no way in hell I was going back to sleeping alone. She’d fought me on it for days, until I pointed out that not one single person cared where she slept.
Then it became more about her fucking husband and the shit the Death Dogs were doing. Aside from the prospect we lost, Indigo Cambridge, one of Gunner’s employees at the tattoo shop had been attacked by Skinner’s nephew Sting. Then he tried to abduct her twice.
The second time was his mistake. He’d done it in public, and she’d knocked him out. The girl had secrets. Secrets that probably matched Mimic’s. It made sense that he was drawn to her.
With every attack against us, Aspen took the blame. She couldn’t seem to understand that she was the only one blaming herself. The club now knew who she was and who her husband was. Not one person believed any of this shit was because of her.
So here we were, at a tiny little diner in Pine Bluffs, Wyoming, meeting with Skinner to attempt a truce. None of us believed it would work, but like King said, he had to try. When the Federation asked, he could say he’d done everything in his power to stop the war before it started.
Winchester had left us to set himself up where he had a clear view of the diner in case things went bad. He’d take out as many as he could from his vantage point.
King was a cocky motherfucker, bringing all of his officers to the meet.
Normally, half would stay at the clubhouse in the event of an ambush.
But Skinner was bringing his officers as well.
They were the targets. If he took out ours, we’d take out his as well.
At the very least, maybe whoever took over from him would be smarter than he was.
“I don’t want no trouble here.”
The man who spoke was in his fifties. Not much older than me, but his potbelly told me he ate a little too much of his own cooking. His arms were covered with tattoos, and his grizzled face told me he’d seen a few things in his life.
“Not here for trouble, but we are meeting another club. How much to close for the day?” King asked.
“Ten thousand.”
“Colt, pay the man. Sir, I suggest you send your staff home. We can lock up when we leave. If anything were to get damaged during our meet, we’ll cover it. We aren’t here to make your life harder, just hoping to make ours a little easier.”
“If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to call the sheriff and put him on alert,” the man rebutted.
King looked around at us, then back to the old man. He nodded, adding, “As long as the sheriff understands we won’t start any shit, but we will defend ourselves if we have to.”
“Sheriff McCoy is a reasonable man. My name’s Mel.” He held his hand out to King, who took it without hesitation.
Mel cleared out the diner and called the sheriff, allowing King to speak with him for a few minutes. King agreed to let his deputies surround the diner, where they couldn’t be seen, but he kept his mouth shut about Winchester.
We picked at the food Mel made for us as we waited for Skinner to show. The tension in the room was thicker than the milkshakes I’d seen on the menu.
The rumble of the bikes shook the windows, and we knew Skinner hadn’t abided by the rules set in place. He’d been told to bring only six men besides his officers. But when the door swung open and Skinner strutted in, he was followed by his VP and twenty of his men.
“You forget how to count?” King asked.
Skinner looked at his men before giving King a leering smile.
“You said six men besides my officers. That’s what I brought.
” He walked forward, stopping at the table and sitting in the chair across from King.
“You see, when you have as many men as I have, you need a few more enforcers to keep the peace.”
“You don’t need all those enforcers when you’re leading men with respect.”
Skinner’s smile dropped a fraction, but he caught himself, not wanting King to know he’d hit the nail on the head.
“What’s this meeting about?” Skinner asked, ignoring King’s barb at his leadership abilities.
“You killed our prospect.”
“You killed our friend.”
“What friend?” Cash asked.
I was only half listening as I searched the faces of the men with Skinner. I was looking for one face in particular among the vermin standing before us.
“Daniel Scott.”
King sat forward, clasped his hands together on the table, and said, “I don’t know what you’ve heard, but Mr. Scott was killed by an assassin. Even had his name etched on the bullet. That wasn’t us.”
“You beat the shit out of him in the middle of Main Street and then had him killed.”
“Now, Skinner, again, you’re misinformed. Massacre, a member of the Golden Skulls, was the one who beat the shit out of your friend. Not us.”
“He was staying in your fucking house,” Skinner sneered.
“That is true. He came to get his wife. They’ve since gone back to California. You’re welcome to take it up with Reaper. But our prospect wasn’t involved. You owe us.”
“Prez,” Vulture whispered. Skinner held up his hand, cutting him off.
“What do you want?” Skinner asked.
I wanted the piece of shit he left at home. I’d studied every man that walked in the door, and the cocksucker who beat my baby girl wasn’t one of them. Maybe they really didn’t know she was with us.
“Well,” King leaned back against the booth, folding his arms over his chest as though he had all the time in the world. “I had planned to ask for restitution, money for the kid’s family. But then your man Sting fucked up and went after one of our women. Now I’m thinking a life for a life.”
“What the fuck are you talking about, King?”
“My enforcer’s old lady.”
Mimic stiffened beside me. This was news we hadn’t been given ahead of time, and based on the kid’s reaction, neither had he.
“He went into one of our businesses, punched her in the face and knocked her unconscious. If that wasn’t bad enough, he showed up at her apartment in the middle of the night and tried to fucking kidnap her.
And to top it off, he tried to grab her from the fucking coffee shop when she was with my VP’s old lady. ”
My eyes had been following every man in the room that stood against us, until Vulture launched himself forward, leaning on the table, and screamed in King’s face, “She’s my fucking daughter, and I want her back.”
It was second nature that when he moved, my brothers and I pulled our guns to protect our president.
The front door opened, and the sheriff walked in as we stared down the Death Dogs, our guns pointed at them, and theirs pointed back at us.
He pushed his way between the Death Dogs, until he stood by the table with King and Skinner.
“Hello, boys, heard you might need a mediator.”
“Sheriff, look around,” Skinner said, standing up to face the sheriff. “You’re outnumbered; they’re outnumbered. Who do you think is walking out of here alive?”
“You might be right there, but by my estimation, only a few of you will be walking out, and my deputies will scoop you up or put you down as you do. I do know one thing, though. You won’t be walking out of here alive.”
The sheriff looked down at Skinner’s chest. The small red dot from Winchester’s rifle bounced around over his heart. Skinner glared through the window at an invisible man he couldn’t see but knew was there. Turning back to King, Skinner growled, “I want my nephew and Vulture’s daughter.”
“And I want world peace. We don’t always get what we fucking want,” King replied, sitting back against the booth.
“This isn’t over,” Skinner snarled as he shoved an angry Vulture toward the door.
“King, I presume?” The sheriff reached out a hand as he sat in the empty chair opposite my president.
“It’s nice to meet you, Sheriff.” King turned his head to either side; a signal for us to sit. We holstered our guns, righting the tables that lay on the floor.
“I assume you are all legally allowed to carry?” the sheriff asked.
King didn’t answer, choosing to deflect instead.
“Despite the patch on my cut, we are not a one-percenter club; haven’t been for a number of years.”
“Not what I asked.”
King smiled at the sheriff. “Feel free to contact the sheriff in Diamond Creek, Nebraska. He’ll vouch for us. We came here only to stop a war.”
“I’d say you were unsuccessful.”
“Unfortunately,” King said with an exhausted sigh.
Everyone was quiet, aside from King. If the sheriff wanted to be a dick, he could haul us all in and run our rap sheets. More than a few of us would be sleeping in a cell if that happened.
“I’d appreciate it if you all got back home.”
“It’s where we’re headed, Sheriff.”
We all stood as one, and King held his hand out. When the sheriff took it, King thanked him for having our backs.
We didn’t waste time getting back on the highway, where we met up with Winchester. The ride home was somber in a way that was different from the ride out.
Before the meeting, we’d all held out hope that Skinner would see reason. That King would be able to talk with him and prevent the war from moving further.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t successful, and now it was time to plan our own strategies for winning. This wasn’t my first biker war. But it was new for several brothers who had joined us since we moved to Nebraska.
A move that was supposed to keep us out of this shit. Now that we knew what Steele and Stone had done, it wasn’t just the Death Dogs we were at war with. It was our own fucking club.
Now that we had proof that Steele and Stone had killed Titan, their father, there was little doubt that Steele had in fact set Chasm up in that warehouse. The fact that Grace was his daughter was inconvenient, but it wouldn’t stop King from doing what had to be done.
Steele had aligned the Silver Shadows with Skinner and the Death Dogs. I had a feeling Steele had burned every alliance his father had made since taking over. Leaving the Death Dogs his only choice.
He’d backed the wrong horse. A choice he would regret once he knew the allies King had secured.
Pulling into the clubhouse lot, Beck and Sam were outside ready to welcome home their men. I turned off my bike and swung my leg over. I walked up the few steps and just inside the door, there she was.
Waiting for me.
I pulled her into my arms and kissed the hell out of her. God, I loved having this woman in my life.
“You’re safe,” she whispered.
“I’m safe. And so are you. Skinner doesn’t know you’re here. He didn’t mention you, and that shit stain wasn’t even with him.”
“He doesn’t know?”
I shook my head. “He doesn’t know. You’re safe here. If you run, I can’t guarantee that. I need you to trust me.”
She looked up into my eyes and bit her lip. “I’ll try.”
At this moment, it was better than nothing.