Chapter 23
DRIFTER
Ihated waiting.
I didn’t have the patience for it. Not when I was just killing time with a beer in my hand, and not when trouble was on the horizon and headed straight for our door.
Today was about as bad as it could get. I was watching a scene unfold that could go sideways at any second, and all I could do was sit there and watch it happen.
I was a brother in the ways that counted, but I belonged to a different chapter. That meant I didn’t get much of a say about anything, unless I was asked directly. So, I sat back and kept my mouth shut while Preacher and the others made their plans.
It had been just over twenty-four hours since we’d brought Cain to the clubhouse, and the clock was ticking. Scouts didn’t just disappear without someone noticing, not when a war was on the horizon.
We had no problem finding the warehouse.
It was exactly the way Cain described. It was fairly large, but it had seen better days.
The doors were rusted, the windows blacked out, and the roof looked like it had been recently patched.
There were a couple of motorcycles parked in the rear, along with a beat-up truck.
Ghost and Memphis had spent the better part of the day parked out of sight with a surveillance camera, sharing their every move with us back at the clubhouse.
We’d been watching long enough to see that these guys weren’t in any kind of rush or panic.
They had food delivery guys rolling in and out of there, dropping off food and booze like they didn’t have a care in the world.
They certainly didn’t seem to be concerned about their missing brother.
Either they hadn’t noticed that he hadn’t returned, or they thought he was off doing what he was told. Either way, it worked in Fury’s favor. When the third dasher pulled up to deliver more beer, Goose chuckled, “We should just dash them a big fuck you and be done with this shit.”
“Yeah,” Skid scoffed. “Here’s your beer with a side of AK forty-seven.”
“I’m thinking more explosive, like here’s your tacos and a stick of dynamite.”
“Hold up.” Creed thought for a moment. “That might actually work.”
“Come on, brother.” Goose shook his head. “We were just fucking around.”
“I know but think about it.” Creed leaned back in his chair. “They’ve got these guys coming in and out of there like clockwork. What’s one more? And if we can get something in there, an explosive or even spiked booze, it could give us a real advantage.”
“And when their brothers hear the mayhem from down the street?”
“You gotta remember, they’re trying to build their numbers, and they’re already down,” Memphis answered. “Hell, we took out five of them at the Vault. That only leaves what? Six or seven tops?”
Cain had already confirmed the five or six members, but we knew nothing about the clubhouse or the setup. But that didn’t stop Preacher from saying, “Number doesn’t matter. They’ll be caught off guard by the fire, and we’ll use that to take them out.”
“And cover up?”
“We torch the clubhouse, too,” Creed answered, sounding like it wasn’t a big deal. “It’s out in the old industrial port area. Not much going on out there, especially at night.”
And just like that, a plan started to unfold. It was a little off the wall, and it needed some work. A lot of work. But the premise was there.
Shep got to work, and Preacher called in a couple of favors. An hour later, they had a possible plan.
A small explosive, a case of 151 Rum, and a door dasher who was quick on his feet, and if he could get them to accept the order, we would be one step closer to being rid of these fucking Coyotes.
It didn’t take long to get it all lined up.
Now we just had to see if it would work.
Shep went over every detail with our delivery guy, and once he was certain he understood the plan, he set him up with a wire and camera, making sure we could see and hear everything that went down.
Memphis secured the explosive at the bottom of the crate of booze and put it in the backseat of the car before sending him on his way.
We gathered a block over from the warehouse, waiting and watching as he went to make the delivery. Memphis and Goose hovered over Shep’s shoulder, watching the screen as he pulled up to the warehouse and got out.
Our guy looked like any other delivery driver. He wore his cap low, jeans, and a T-shirt, and he even had a “We Deliver” sign on his car door. It was already dark, which we all hoped would work to our advantage. He grabbed the crate of booze from the back seat and hauled it up to the side door.
Before he had a chance to knock, one of the Coyotes stepped out to meet him.
He was a hefty fella with bright red hair and a thick, red beard, and his clothes seemed to be at least one size too small.
Another stood next to him. He wasn’t as wide as the other, but he was thick around the middle and had a long, black beard.
Both were wearing cuts, and while they were both armed, they didn’t seem all that bothered that an unexpected delivery had just appeared at their door. Red beard looked down at the crate of booze and asked, “What the hell is this?”
“Delivery.” Our guy lowered the crate at the guy’s feet. “From someone named Cain.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah.” Our guy shrugged. “Note said he hooked up with one of the dancers and will be back later tonight… Guess he’s thinking this will occupy your time until he gets back.”
Red beard hesitated. He looked at the driver and back to the booze, and my gut coiled up tight.
This was the part where it either went exactly as planned or it went to hell.
Black beard shrugged before stepping closer as he peered at the case of booze.
He even reached over and picked up one of the bottles, checking it out with a grunt.
He shook his head and smirked, “Cain’s a fucking idiot.”
I knew then we had him. His brother snickered, “Yeah, but at least he sent some of the good stuff.”
He took the crate from the driver and took it inside. That was it. No hesitation. No second-guessing. They just took it, and we knew we had them. He turned to Preach with a satisfied nod. “We got ‘em.”
We watched as the door closed behind them, and just like that, it was done. Now, we just had to choose the right time to hit the detonator. I figured the sooner the better, but that wasn’t my call. We had to give the driver time to haul ass out of there and make sure everything was in place.
Creed checked his watch, then ordered, “Give it a minute.”
I was already bracing for what came next, because if that crate of 151 didn’t do what it was supposed to, we’d have a real problem on our hands.
After what seemed like an eternity, Creed gave the nod, and Memphis flashed his headlights three times, letting the others know things were about to go down.
Preacher, Memphis, Shep, Creed, and I were in charge of the clubhouse, and we were all sitting on go when Shep hit the detonator, triggering the small IED hidden at the bottom of the crate.
It was just a small explosive, barely enough to blow up a car, but when its contents ignited with 151, it was a sight to behold.
A rush of blue light filled the windows before a second blast sent flames and mortar soaring through the entire building. The discharge was so intense that we felt the truck vibrate a hundred yards away. We took that as our cue to rush the clubhouse.
Goose, Ghost, Skid, and the others were posted right outside the warehouse. As soon as the flames hit, they charged for the doors, securing each of them with chains and locks. Once they were secured, they would stand by and take out anyone who tried to break out.
Like the others, Creed and I were covered in black from head to toe, making it difficult to spot us as we approached the clubhouse doors. When I heard shouting and footsteps, I turned to Creed, checking to see if he’d heard it, too. “What’s the move?”
“Let’s take ‘em.”
I nodded, then kicked the door open, firing off several rounds. There were three of them. I couldn’t tell you their size or any distinguishing markers, other than the fact that they now had a bullet in either their head or chest.
Creed took aim as well, and together, we took out those three before they ever made it out the door. It wasn’t exactly the plan, but my instincts warned that it was best to keep them contained.
“Fuck, man.” Skid followed behind us. “When the hell did we talk about going inside the fucking clubhouse?”
“We didn’t,” Creed answered.
That didn’t stop us from continuing inside, searching for the rest of their crew. We’d all been in situations like this before. We knew how it worked. Creed and I would lead, while they covered us from behind. When we passed the bar, Memphis paused and whispered, “Hold up.”
He stepped inside and grabbed a bottle of Everclear, tossing it onto the floor. He took out his lighter and lit it, sending flames rolling through the small bar. Just as the flames started to take hold, more footsteps were heard coming down the hall.
I motioned for the door, and Creed and I stood ready, taking the two guys out before they ever saw us coming.
Creed leaned into me and whispered, “What’s the headcount?”
“Looking at five, but we need to do a sweep to make sure we got everyone.”
He nodded and followed me as I started down the hall. The place was not even half the size of the Fury clubhouse, and it was barely standing. By the time we’d checked the other rooms, the whole place was engulfed in flames. “We need to get the hell out of here.”
I could feel the heat of the flames as we made our way back out front, and the smoke nearly choked me as we came up next to Preacher. He looked anxious as he ordered, “Move out.”
By the time we made it back outside, the entire clubhouse was a ball of flames, just like the warehouse across the street. Goose and the others came over to join us, and together, we stood there watching one explosion after the next.
We continued to monitor the exits, making sure there was no further sign of movement, and once we were certain all was clear, Preacher ordered, “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
Without a word, we headed back to our vehicles and made our getaway long before the police and firemen arrived. We left there knowing that we might’ve succeeded in our plan, but the job wasn’t done. Not even close.
This was a small battle in a war that was just getting started, so there would be no celebration, no party, or hurrah. It was a time for the boys to gather their resources and start planning for what came next, and I had a feeling they would have a hell of a battle on their hands.
When we pulled up to the clubhouse, it was after midnight.
We were all ready to call it a night. Before we went inside, Preach called us all over to him and said, “You boys did good tonight, but this thing isn’t over.
You need to be prepared for potential lockdowns and extra guard duty.
We need to be prepared for backlash, because it’s coming. You can count on it.”