19. Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Nineteen
Bear
“ W ell, dayum! So, this is how the other half live, huh?” In any other circumstance, I’d be in awe of this private jet right along with Grinder. Except the current situation makes it impossible to enjoy any of this.
“Yup, but even gold plated, a tin can is still a tin can. Nothing ‘s better than freedom on two wheels.” Psycho’s right. Riding beats any other form of transportation by a mile, but again, I don’t chime in as they all revel at the luxury. “Marco came through like a champ.”
That he did.
Never would’ve thought that the mafia don from New York City would be so generous. Well, to be fair, it’s not his jet since it belongs to his brother-in-law. One of them, at least. Rumor has it, his sister is in a polyamorous relationship so Marco has three brothers-in-law for his only sister. The whole ride over, Grinder explained the concept to me, but my mind was on one thing and one thing only.
Getting to Athena.
We spent the entire night planning the next days or weeks, imagining the hurdles we’d have to face and anticipating our material needs; guns, explosives, transportation. All of it under the fucking radar, which is how we ended up on this private plane.
When Glitch called, he had just started running the chip from Athena’s neck into some kind of tester thing that I won’t even pretend to understand. From there, he got bits and pieces of information like the manufacturer, the location, the data it was storing. All useful shit, I’m sure, but nothing that could point us in the right direction.
It was Crow who saved the day, reminding us that Athena’s truck came with a navigation system. I ran to that thing so fast, I almost knocked out a couple of brothers on the way.
Reaching into my leather jacket, I pull out the tiny notebook where I jotted down every single address in that GPS. Most of them are in Montana, one is in Colorado, and the other is mama’s old address, which was Athena’s doing.
Obviously, all of this was shared with Glitch, who has been coordinating our techy shit since Python died eighteen months ago. From there, Marco got the jet in the air and here we are, about to take off with a plane full of weapons and a small but fierce army of bikers ready to kill for their family.
As for me, I left the calm and collected teddy side of me on the tarmac. From here on out, I’ll be the grizzly my Athena needs until every one of those motherfuckers is clawed to the bone.
“Wheels up, fuckers.” Grinder’s loud voice echoes through the small space. “We’re about to meet our Khaos brothers in the tundra.”
It takes less time to fly half-way across the American continent than it does to ride up to the Virginia border. Ten minutes shy of four hours, to be exact. I know this because I’m hyper aware of every minute Athena’s not by my side. We touch down on the frozen ground of Montana around noon and immediately, the brothers are clicking off their seat belts, myself included. Even though I’m still in the cozy comfort of the jet plane, just looking at the vast expanse of mountains and snow makes a chill run up my spine. I fucking hate the cold. Don’t get me wrong, scorching hot weather is the fucking worst, but there ain’t no riding in these conditions.
“All right, listen up, wankers. Bash is our main point of contact with Glitch, so anything you need, you ask him.” Our VP, Sledge, is sitting up, his elbows on his knees and eyes focused on our mission. “I spoke to Tank, he’s the prez of the Montana chapter, so they’re expecting us. His twin brother is their sergeant at arms a Marine. He’s gonna help us coordinate our attacks.” Sledge looks at me then, and I swear to fuck the slow, evil grin that curves up his lips makes my blood pump and my adrenaline spike. “And, brother, those cunts are gonna regret ever touching what’s yours.”
Clenching my jaw to avoid roaring my frustration, I grunt out an answer. I’m afraid to speak, afraid I’ll lose my fucking shit on the wrong people. So I let it build, let it grow, let it fester until I find the people responsible and annihilate them.
“Psycho, I want you to be Bear’s shadow. No offense, brother, but we need to work as a team and can’t have you going rogue.” I nod, knowing Sledge is right. The way I’m feeling, I’m capable of losing my shit and not looking back. “Grinder and Kincaid, you’re a team, which means one doesn’t do shit without the other, we clear?” Everyone nods as silence descends, Sledge rubbing his palms up and down his face like he’s trying to wipe the sleep away. “Strap in and strap on, ladies. We’re about to fuck shit up.”
On cue, every single one of us roars in frustration, hyping ourselves up and getting our blood moving for what’s to come.
When I look out the porthole, I can’t help the humorless grin that spreads across my face. The Sons of Khaos are here with three trucks ready to haul our shit out. This is family, this trust that exists even if you don’t personally know each other. The mere choice of pledging your life to a group of people means you’re never alone.
We’re breaking half a dozen federal and state laws but these guys didn’t even bat an eye, all because I met a woman on the side of a road and fell in love with her. Yeah, I’ve never been one to lie to myself. I’m man enough to admit that she owns my heart.
“Is that Tank?” I’m pointing to a group of men outside waiting for us to get off the plane. They’re standing in a triangle and I’m guessing the guy front and center is the president of this chapter.
“Yeah, that’s him,” Sledge answers, then ducks out to grab his duffle.
“You’d think with a name like Tank he’d be your size.” Grinder’s looking over my shoulder, disappointment coloring his voice. “I mean, you’re Bear ‘cause you’re fucking huge. Psycho… well, that’s self-evident. Sledge ‘cause that motherfucker is a pro at demolition work.”
“Why did they name you Grinder?” Oh, poor na?ve Bash. He’s about to get a lesson in never asking shit you don’t need to know.
“Great question, young Padawan.” I shake my head at Bash, hoping to silently warn him to abort, abort, abort. Alas, the kid doesn’t see me, and well, sometimes you gotta shovel your own shit. “I’m the Meat Grinder because I pound, pound, pound dat ass until it’s completely destroyed.”
Bash’s face is exactly what I expected to see. Wide eyes and open mouth in complete disbelief.
“See? That right there is why I never understood why I’m Psycho and not him.”
“You’re both fuckin’ mental. Come on, let’s get the fuck outta here,” Sledge says, just as the exit door opens and a gust of minus a million degrees grips our balls within seconds.
“Fuckin’ hell. What the fuck is this place?” Psycho groans as he shivers from the onslaught of this weather.
“Frozen Hell. That’s what this is. This is where my dick will die a cold, cold death.”
“If you’re poundin’, Grinder, the blood flow will keep your dick from falling off.” Despite the anger and the fear and the need to destroy, we all laugh at Bash’s quick comeback. Kid’s learning.
With our backpacks for some and duffles for others, we file out in a single line and jog down the stairs, careful not to fall on our asses. It’s only been a couple of minutes, but the ice is already forming on the polished steps. We’re not equipped for this shit. We left North Carolina so fast, no one had time to buy the appropriate clothing to survive these conditions. At least it’s sunny. Kind of. I think that’s the sun trying to peek out of that one hole in the gray clouds.
“Welcome to Montana, boys. I hope you brought better shit than that ‘cause none of us wants to scrape your frozen bodies from the ground.” Tank doesn’t laugh at his own joke, which tells me he ain’t kidding.
“I think my nose hairs are frozen.”
“I can’t breathe.”
“Are these gloves even working?”
While Bash and Grinder ping pong their troubles at one another, I jog up to shake Tank’s hand, then move on to the others.
“Hey, man. I’m Sarge, Tank’s brother.” Yeah, no shit. Good thing one’s got long hair and the other has no problem showing his military background with his high and tight.
“Sup, Sarge. I’m Bear. Thanks for helping us out, man. We really appreciate it.”
“No problem. We protect and we help our own, right?” I like Sarge immediately. That glint in his light-blue eyes tells me he’s a straight shooter and the fact he holds my gaze when speaking tells me he’s solid, dependable.
“Damn straight.” He’s right too. We would’ve done the exact same for him and the rest of this crew.
“This here is Texas. He’s loving our cold weather about as much as you.” Sarge slaps Texas on the shoulder, causing the younger guy to grunt.
“I’m guessin’ you’re from the Lone Star state?” We shake hands as he rolls his eyes.
“My name’s Austin, like the city? And I lived in Texas for about six months. They’ll never let me forget that.” We all chuckle and it feels like we’ve known each other our whole lives.
“When you’re born and bred in Montana, leaving for Texas should be a crime.” Damn, cowboys are serious about their homeland.
The noise from the sliding doors gets our attention and I realize that this whole time, other brothers have been loading up the trucks. Efficient motherfuckers. I like them.
By the time we make it to the clubhouse, shower, and put on warmer clothes, it’s already dinner time. These guys don’t mess around when it comes to eating. I guess they need their meat and potatoes to survive the fucking tundra.
“Here’s the deal. Those addresses you sent, Sledge, they’re in Gopher Crotch.” I frown because who the fuck names a town like that? “It’s small, in the middle of no fucking where, and it’s called Creek’s Arrow, about an hour’s drive from here. Some bougie business assholes came around and bought up a bunch of land and created some kind of rich resort. Rumor has it, the whole town is owned by the same guy.” Tank pauses to look down at a piece of paper, then nods. When he looks back up, those light blue eyes are as frigid as the temperatures outside. “Barry Grouse.”
I snarl at the sound of the name. It’s visceral, like knowing this information gets me closer to my goal. A torturous and bloody goal.
“So, what’s the plan?” I haven’t spoken this whole time but I need to know.
“We’ve got three guys up there on recon.” Sarge is in deep military mode, his words clipped and simple. “A dozen guards at any one time walking the perimeter, gated community, cameras all around. Won’t be easy but it’s not impossible. My buddy at the Army Navy surplus store hooked us up with everything we need.” When he leans back in his chair, I see the killer instinct in him. He’s enjoying this and I’m fucking here for it.
“Rest up tonight, brothers, because tomorrow we train, and the next day we show those fuckers what it means to bring Khaos.”