Chapter Twenty-Six
Cash
The clubhouse was a hive of activity, with men running around, checking ammo, and shouting orders. We’d just had word that we were about to get some unwanted company, so the plan we’d been sitting on since our last meeting was being put into action.
Bear and Henderson were under the impression that half our members were missing and we were sitting ducks.
Twenty-five men rode out to the Sinners’ compound early that morning. But a lot more had stayed at the clubhouse for the last week, lying low. We’d caught two Sinners on the cameras spying on the clubhouse, so we showed them exactly what we wanted them to see. We had a full house, three men to each room, sleeping bags, and blow-up beds down the Cell. Food trucks pulled up, but instead of bringing kitchen supplies, they delivered more guns and a shit ton of ammo. The standing joke amongst the men was that we had the best DoorDash ever.
We were a club grieving over the loss of two well-loved family members, three if you counted Fender needing a time-out. Still, we’d learned our lesson when it came to being unprepared and were ready to go.
The bar was full of men and ol’ ladies. The women and kids were grabbing bottles of water and food and filing down the Cell. My gaze went to the bar where Wildcat and Kennedy were handing out blankets and making sure the kids had toys and games to take downstairs.
I stuck my thumb and index finger in my mouth and let out a piercing whistle. “Wildcat!”
My woman turned to me so sharply that her gorgeous, glossy hair flew out around her head. “It better not be me you just whistled at, asshole,” she bit out. “I’m not a fucking dog.”
My cock thickened, and a slow grin spread across my face.
Cara fucking Landry was one sexy bitch. Most of the time, I did shit like whistle at her just to make her pop off at me. I loved it when she gave me lip.
“Baby,” I drawled on my approach. “Get your sweet ass down the Cell.”
She cocked a hip. “I’m needed up here, Cash. I’m going to help Sophie and Elise with the wounded.”
I barked a laugh. “You puke at the sight of blood.”
“Don’t be an asshole,” she muttered. “I’ll make food.”
“You can’t fuckin’ cook,” I protested. “And since when was your coffee drinkable?”
Cara sniffed haughtily. “I can make picky plates and nachos. Any asshole can put Doritos on a plate and dollop guac on the side.”
I grabbed Cara’s hand and tugged her body against mine, smoothing her hair back from her face and nuzzling her nose with mine. Bending my neck, I took my woman’s mouth in a hard, open-mouthed kiss before pulling back. “Get down the Cell.”
She opened her mouth to answer back but must’ve seen something in my expression that stopped her in her tracks because instead of biting my head off, she murmured, “Be careful, Cash.”
“I’ll be fine,” I assured her with a confidence I didn’t necessarily feel. “I’ll be expecting a victory fuck later.”
Cara rolled her eyes. “You’ve got more chance of hitting oil than my pussy.”
Leaning down again, I whispered, “Marry me,” against her soft, puffy lips.
“No,” she whispered back.
“Are you ever gonna say yes?” I asked, pulling back.
“You gotta stop asking, Cash. No girl wants to say yes to someone who’s so clearly desperate.”
“I’ll get a ring on your finger one day,” I vowed.
Her pretty brown eyes misted over, and she leaned up, kissing me softly. “I’ll think about it, but you have to survive this first. You can do this, Cash. I believe in you. Your dad wouldn’t leave you in charge if he didn’t think you could handle it.”
My chest warmed.
Cara knew my insecurities. I often felt inferior because I’d never been in the military like Dad, Kit, or the other ninety percent of the men in the club. I’d always regretted my decision to stay home and whoop it up.
It was the biggest mistake of my life because instead of going into the military, I went to goddamned prison, and what a humbling experience that turned out to be.
Still, I learned some tricks there that my military brothers didn’t know.
“I love you, asshole,” she whispered. “Stay safe.”
I returned her kiss, biting gently on her bottom lip, then releasing it with a pop. “Love you, too. Down to my blood and bones.” My stare lifted to see Sophie and Elise approaching.
Not for the first time, I marveled at the woman my dad called the love of his life.
She was the total opposite of my mom. Taller, willowy, blonde hair, green eyes, and softly spoken until riled. I liked her for him. Mom had moved on, and I didn’t want my pop unhappy or lonely. At the beginning, I was suspicious of how he’d hankered after her when he was married, but after hearing the full story, I reckoned he’d done right by my ma until she ended up meeting somebody and asking for a divorce.
I slid my arm across Cara’s shoulders. “Mornin’, ladies. You set?”
“Sick bay’s ready,” Sophie informed me. “All the beds are made up, sutures are ready, bags of blood are sitting at room temperature, and everything’s sterilized. We’re good to go.” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Have you heard from Atlas?”
“Nah,” I told her gently. “But I spoke to Dad. He told me our SAA’s having the time of his life, shooting and hollering. His exact words included kid and candy store.”
Sophie beamed.
My stare slid to Elise. “Pop’s okay, too, reliving his old military days, gut to the dirt, rifle in hand. He thinks he’s twenty-one again.” My voice lowered. “Watch him when he gets back; he may think his libido’s twenty-one, too, and no fucker wants that.”
Elise’s cheeks turned pink, and right then, I knew exactly why my dad was obsessed with her. She was beautiful and so sweet; she made my molars ache.
A thought came to me, and I glanced around the bar. “Where’s Layla?”
“Down the Cell with Spokes,” Cara told me. “He offered to show her how to handle an M4. I think she nearly pissed her pants and not with fright.”
“Jesus,” I muttered. “Bowie’s gonna flip.”
“You could always try and stop her,” Sophie suggested.
I shrugged. “Nah. Bowie may flip, but I think it’s ace. As long as she stays low and outta trouble, I’ve got no issue with her poppin’ off a few rounds. She’s a good shot, and she knows what she’s doin’.” I glanced at Cara. “Who’s got Wilder and the other kids?”
“Who do you think?” she replied. “Mary Poppins aka Iris. They’re already down the Cell.”
“What would we do without her?” I asked just as my cell phone rang. I dug into my pocket and looked at the display before answering. “Yo, Colt.”
“They’re a minute away,” he advised me. “Get everybody in place.”
“Got it,” I confirmed, just as my heart jerked with a sudden attack of nerves. I ended the call and declared, “It’s showtime, ladies.” I leaned down, touching Cara’s mouth with mine. “Go, Wildcat.”
“Oh, alright,” she grumbled, blowing me a kiss before moving back toward the bar to grab Kennedy and guide her toward the corridor leading to the Cell, her ass swaying as she went.
My eyes were glued to my woman and my gut dropped.
The pressure was on. There were men outside who wanted to destroy the way we lived our lives. They wanted to hurt people and given half a chance, I knew they’d hurt my family.
I’d never let it happen because these days, I breathed easy and slept like a baby.
My Wildcat gave me non-stop shit and kept me on my toes, and I fucking loved it. There was never a dull moment with Cara Landry. She made me laugh, made me think, and challenged my ass every day. She’d given me a son and a home, and most of all, she’d given me peace.
When Pop told me he was thinking of handing me the gavel, I felt a flash of panic. The same night, I relayed it to Cara, and we went to bed and talked for hours about what we could do to expand the businesses. We decided to look at opening new chapters, giving them the means to open branches of the building contractors, restaurants, and bars, and eventually, take them from regional to national.
Cara had so much faith in me that it made me feel like a king, and over the course of the night, the panic faded, and instead, a world of possibilities opened up for us.
Arrow appeared at my side and jerked his head in the direction of the windows. “We ready?”
Reaching into my cut, I pulled out the Ruger Grandpa Bandit left me when he died and asked, “Are the boys in position on the roof?”
“Yeah,” he confirmed. “Tex is holding up, too.”
My chest twisted at the thought of my brother, who not long ago had been shot in the stomach. He’d gotten out of bed the day before and decided he wanted in. Right then, he was up on the roof with an M4 and snacks.
Go figure.
“Cash!” Chaps called out. “They’re here.”
Gut churning, I walked over to the bar, grabbed my radio, and clicked the side button to talk to Tex. “Remember, brother. Wait until they’re on our property. As soon as they step onto our land, they’ll trip the cameras.”
The radio crackled for a few seconds, and then Tex’s voice said, “They’re parkin’ up now.”
Despite the onslaught of nerves making my gut churn, I laughed. “You all hidden?”
“Yep.”
“They have to fire first,” I reminded him. “As soon as they do, shoot those fuckers dead.”
“Got a Sinner in my sight already,” he muttered.
“Don’t forget what Prez told ya. Avoid the commandos.”
Tex let out an audible sigh. “Still don’t know why we can’t shoot ‘em. Seems like a wasted opportunity to me.”
I smirked. “Prez has his reasons—”
“Whoa, Cash,” Tex exclaimed, cutting me off. “Henderson’s here.”
My face scrunched up. “Huh? I thought the FBI had him on house arrest?”
“Must’ve got out,” Tex replied.
My lip curled in disgust. “I better let Colt know. You good?”
“Fuckin’ A,” he muttered. “Over and out.”
I placed the radio back on the bar and dug in my pocket again for my cell, pulling it out and tapping Colt’s name. Holding it to my ear, I waited until he said, “Yo. Cash.”
“Did you know Henderson’s back in Hambleton?”
“I just found out the sheriff dropped the charges. We’re trying to get them reinstated, seeing as it wasn’t the sheriff who arrested him in the first place, and therefore, not his jurisdiction. We’ve taken him into custody and charged him with everything we could—which was a lot. As soon as we get the go-ahead for the arrest, we’ll pick Henderson up.” He paused. “How’s it going there?”
“So far, to plan,” I replied. “But you have to stay away from it. No involvement.”
“Got it,” he muttered. “Gotta say, brother, my FOMO’s off the damned charts.”
“You gotta stay clean,” I reiterated.
“I know—”
A gunshot exploded from outside.
“Go!” he ordered. “Keep me posted.”
Disconnecting the call, I hurried toward the window to see what the fuck was going on.
Bolt glanced over his shoulder at me as I approached. “They fired a shot, but they’re not close enough to trip the cameras.”
“The shot won’t hit from that distance,” I muttered to myself, glancing out the window to see a number of black GMCs lined up with men standing around them, talking. One dude was looking at the clubhouse through a pair of binoculars. My blood turned to ice when I noticed Bear stood talking to Henderson, and his lieutenants surrounding them. “Fuckers need to come closer.”
“They will,” he replied. “They’re just tryin’ to throw us off.”
My stare fell on Bear laughing with one of his men, and my lips thinned. “We can wait it out. Everybody’s in position: my woman and boy are safe downstairs. I’m prepared to siege this shit out for months.”
Bolt grinned, his eyes still glued to the scene outside. “It’ll happen, Veep. The dirty fuckers can’t help themselves. It won’t be long.”
“The boys on the roof have to stay cool, though.”
The radio crackled, and Tex’s voice barked, “There’s movement.”
My eyes slashed toward the window, and sure enough, a group of men were handing out weapons from the back of one of the vehicles. My mouth hitched at the same time as my gut leaped excitedly. I went back for the radio before returning to Bolt, my stare taking in every one of the fuckers’ moves.
Tex chuckled through the radio. “We gonna let them storm the place?”
I clicked the side button. “You know the plan, brother.”
I heard a squeak of laughter come from his throat. “Over and out.”
Three of Henderson’s commandos were at the gates, holding up an electrical device, which was designed to override our security. Any minute now, our gates would unlock, and the Burning Sinners would storm the compound.
Except the device was fake, our gates were already unlocked, and the commandos damned well knew it.
The gates suddenly swung open, and I watched the Sinners collectively storm through them, wielding their weapons. The gunshots that filled the air were as explosive as thunderclaps.
Bingo.
I turned to face the room, my heart warming at the sight before me.
Speed Demons stood with rifles and machine guns, wearing bullet-proof vests. We had triple the number of men than Bear did. Add on the boys on the roof, and we easily outnumbered the Sinners.
“Ready, boys?” I bellowed.
Roars and war cries filled the air.
I jerked my thumb toward the door. “Let’s fuckin’ go!”
Another roar went up, and every man rushed for the parking lot. Machine-gun fire exploded from the roof, the boys up there covering our asses as we streamed outside. Cries and screams went up as bullets peppered the first wave of Sinners, who were immediately taken by surprise.
Within seconds, the parking lot had turned into carnage. Non-stop gunfire filled the air as if it was the fourth of July and a thousand fireworks had been lit. Men were in hand-to-hand combat, and screams and cries assaulted my ears, along with the sound of flesh pounding flesh.
One of our men beside me was hit by an enemy bullet. He cried out in pain and sank to the ground.
Heart plummeting, I tucked my knife into the back of my belt, and my knees hit the asphalt, my hand going straight to my brother’s torso, checking for a hit. I felt a small dent in his vest and winced. Poor fucker would have a big ol’ bruise there tomorrow, but it was better than death… just.
A hand grabbed the back of my shirt, and my teeth clenched as I was hauled to my feet, and a fist landed in my kidney.
Whirling around, I saw a big, ugly fucker with a bald, wrinkly head about to land a crack across my jaw.
Quickly, I ducked and followed through with a jab to his stomach. But was he was so fat the impact probably didn’t even register. He came at me again, and I spun around, his fist narrowly missing my ear, and I stepped to his back.
Bringing my foot up, I booted the back of his knee and watched him crumple to the ground. I dived on him, straddling his huge chest, and wrapped my fingers around his throat, squeezing hard. The Sinner’s eyes bulged as he began to choke. Somehow, he managed to get his hand on my shoulder and tossed me away.
I stood and almost laughed as I watched him struggle to get up, his size hindering his movements. I waited until he got into a crouch, pulled my leg back again, and kicked hard in the jaw. A couple of bloody teeth flew out of his mouth, and he dropped back down.
I sank to my knees and threw one leg over his chest again to straddle him. I cocked an arm back and landed a hard blow to his face, then another to the side of his jaw, making his head loll to one side.
Staggering to my feet, I pulled my gun out from my belt, aimed at his shoulder, and fired before aiming at his other shoulder and squeezing the trigger again.
His body jerked twice, and he let out a pained yell.
I lowered to my haunches, checked his pockets for weapons, and discovered a Colt M1911 and a military-issue knife. After I pocketed them, I stood, drew my foot back again, and landed my boot across his temple.
A bullet whistled past my head, and my soul left my goddamned body for a second.
Grabbing my Ruger, I aimed toward a group of Sinners firing on us from behind the gate, popping three rounds off.
Two Sinners went down, and the other one spotted me and aimed.
I felt my soul prepare to fuck off again when a gun fired from the clubhouse directly behind me.
Glancing over my shoulder, I expelled a relieved breath when I saw Layla duck behind the open window. “Thanks, sweetheart,” I called out. “You always were my favorite sister-in-law.”
I heard Layla giggle, and I shook my head, turning tail to run back inside the clubhouse. I went to the container and grabbed more ammo, stacking the boxes in my arms.
“Here,” a voice said.
I whirled around to see Layla shaking the contents of a massive purse out on a table. “Put them in here; it’ll be easier.”
My head reared back, wincing as I took in the bag. “It’s a goddamned lady’s purse.”
“Well, yeah. It’s also Kennedy’s Jimmy Choo diamond embossed leather tote bag worth nearly two grand. Your ammo couldn’t be in better hands, Cash”
My gaze slid from the ammo in my arms to the purse, and I sighed in defeat. “You win. Open the damned thing.”
She opened the bag, allowing me to dump the ammo inside. My lips twitched when I saw that even with all the boxes I’d gathered, it was only half full. “Clever bitch,” I muttered, going back to the container for more.
“You shouldn’t underestimate me,” she murmured.
I took the purse and flung it over my shoulder. “Thanks, Layla.”
She picked up her gun and slid back over to the window, her mind already on the task ahead. “You’re welcome.”
I winced as I watched her pop a shot off.
Fuck.
Bowie was gonna kill me.
The door flew open, banging against the wall, and Arrow stomped into the bar. “Cash!” he shouted. “Bear’s ordered the Sinners to pull back. I think they’re gonna run.”
My mouth twisted, my gut sinking at the prospect of the other club getting away. “We’ve gotta stop them. After today, the Sinners will cease to exist. We need to think of somethin’, Arrow.”
“How?” he demanded. “They’re in SUVs. There’s no way we can disable all of ‘em with just guns. We need something that’ll take a car out…” His stare fixated over my shoulder, and his voice trailed off.
I craned my neck to see the AT4 still propped up across the back wall. Slowly, my head swiveled back toward Arrow, and a slow grin spread across my face. “Can you work that fucker?”
He grinned, too, except his eyes remained glued on the anti-tank missile system. “In my damned sleep. But it’s a one-shot opportunity. If we miss, we waste the cartridge.”
“How long will it take you to set it up?” I asked.
Arrow shrugged. “Atlas told me earlier it’s already loaded, so all we have to do is take it to the window, knock the glass through, aim, and fire.”
Just then, Whiskey walked into the bar from the medical wing, his wrist in a bandage.
“What happened to you?” I demanded.
He held his hand up in the air. “Took a dive and dislocated the fucker. Can you believe it?”
“You okay?” I asked, concern filling my tone.
He nodded. “Fine and dandy.”
I handed him the bag. “Take this outside when you go. Get word to the men they have to stay back from the gates. We’re gonna fire the AT4, and there may be some blowback.”
“Jesus,” he muttered, taking the purse from my hand. “Blowback? When I was in the airborne unit, I saw one of those things take out a small aircraft. I think blowback’s an understatement.”
“Warn the guys,” I ordered.
He nodded and made for the door.
My head swiveled toward Arrow, and our stares met. “You ready, brother? Because firing that bastard could either turn out to be the best thing we ever did, or it could all go tits up.”
Arrow’s stare flickered toward the AT4, then back to me before the shadows in his eyes cleared. A bright smile spread across his face, and his teeth flashed white. “What could possibly go wrong?”
A lump formed in my throat, and I started to wonder if firing that goddamned AT4 was the right thing to do.
If it went south, I’d be effectively sending the entire club up shit creek without a paddle, that was if the Demons even survived the blast. Knowing my luck, as soon as Arrow set it off, the clubhouse would crumble to its foundations. Okay, so we had a building company, but Dad would have my ass if I blew up the clubhouse from the blowback of an AT4.
I heaved out a breath, scraping a frustrated hand down my face.
Talk about first-world problems.