Chapter 9
Bane
Army and I return from Gilly’s, a bar in the city where its neutral territory for criminal factions to meet and do business.
We had met with the Triads to plan our next run, transporting their drug shipment up the coast. We’re allies, strengthened through our alliance within the Chamber—which, along with the Triads, includes the Santoro mafia, the Saints, and the Fire Clan.
It’s a collective of the five strongest criminal factions in the city formed to eliminate warring while protecting our assets and growing our power and wealth.
As part of the Chamber, we each have areas we control and don’t step on each other’s toes.
If you want weapons, you go through the Santoros.
If you want contraband or cars, you go through the Saints.
Drugs are the Triads’ and Fire Clans’ territory.
For us, other than running drugs and guns, our monopoly is counterfeit cash and being the contract cleaners.
As Army and I drive through the compound’s gates, I’m steadfastly ignoring the fact that I’m looking forward to seeing a certain small woman with short brunette hair and big green eyes.
Parking my bike beside Army’s, I kill my engine and glance at the front of the clubhouse. The tension I didn’t realize I was holding eases when I see Slade’s car sitting there.
I’m frustrated by my reaction, though, because my gut is still telling me that she needs to go if we want to protect the MC.
As we walk through the clubhouse and into the bar area, I ignore Destiny and all the other Bunnies batting their eyes at me and thrusting out their tits, and incline my chin to the guys having a drink.
We walk out through the other door into the main part of the clubhouse, heading straight for Ash’s office. He had texted, telling us to come directly there once we returned.
We stop inside Ash’s office and find him staring at the wall.
“Everything okay, Ash?” I ask, concerned.
He spins around in his chair to face us, his face pensive. He inclines his chin toward the chairs, telling us to sit.
“Did something happen while we were gone?” Army asks as we sit down.
“I spoke with Slade.”
“She still wants to leave?” I guess.
Ash’s blue eyes drill into me. “She’s not leaving.”
I thread my fingers through my hair in frustration at his stubborn refusal to see reason. “She wants to go, Ash, so let her go. She’s a threat to us; my gut is telling me that, and you know it’s never been wrong before.”
He sighs. “I know.”
“Then what the hell is the problem? You need to think about the club as a whole, not just one person.”
“You sound just like her.”
I inhale deeply to calm myself. If I’m being honest, I don’t want Slade to leave, but I can’t ignore a threat to the Havoc Guardians.
Ash twirls the ring on his thumb as he regards me with a cold expression.
Army clears his throat, probably trying to break some of the tension that’s growing between Ash and me. “What else did Slade say?”
“We rehashed some of the past.” Ash’s eyes harden. “She admitted that she came here to say goodbye.”
I stiffen. What the fuck?
“She told me she came here to check in with her brothers,” I say. “To let them know she was fine.”
Ash shakes his head, looking increasingly worried. “She still wouldn’t tell me what’s gunning for her because she’s trying to protect us.”
“Then let her fucking leave,” I grit.
“No.” Ash’s voice booms in the office as his fist hits his desk. “She said this isn’t something she can win.”
That douses my fire and insistence that she leaves.
This is a far cry from the little spitfire I used to know. The Slade of the past would’ve never given up.
My natural tendencies to protect flare up, harsh and intense. Not for protecting the Havoc Guardians, though. But to protect a small woman who’s survived something so horrendous, the only way she can cope is by feeling nothing at all.
Who has all but given up and is willingly accepting defeat…maybe even death.
The burning need to find and destroy any and all threats to Slade swells within me. It’s hard to sit still because it feels like molten lava has just been dumped into my veins, and the urge to hunt and destroy is hard to rein in.
“What’s coming for her?” I demand, even though I know Ash doesn’t have the answer. “The cops? Or is there a bounty out for her?”
“I’ll check with the police commissioner,” Ash says. “And I’ll ask Massimo to inquire with the feds.” Massimo Santoro has direct contact with the FBI Director, Andrew Glass, which comes in handy.
“Digits can look into the bounty piece,” Army adds. “Although, I’m sure he’s already thought to do that. I can also inquire with one of my Marine contacts who has a loose connection to the Broker.”
Army had grown up with us and always wanted to serve in the military just like his maternal grandfather.
Despite his name, he had actually served in the Marines before he was honorably discharged and returned to the MC.
The Broker was the main criminal underworld go-to for bounty contracts—if you wanted to put out a bounty, either for capture or death, he was the middleman between the client and the bounty hunter.
“What about Len?” I ask Army. “Does she have any connections to the Broker?”
Army had befriended a CIA agent who had spent time with his Marine platoon. When Army’s whole unit had been ambushed and slaughtered, Len had been there and would’ve died if Army hadn’t gotten her out. It created a deep friendship between them, and they also exchange favors.
“I think she has a direct line to the Broker himself, but she’s still pissed at me after what happened with the last favor.
” Army sighs, tilting his head back. “But I can try if that’s what we want.
We’ll have to be prepared to give her something back in return, though, since I’m the one who owes her right now. ”
Ash drums his fingers on the top of his desk while he considers the options. “Let’s not use that yet; we may have a more urgent, significant ask of Len for something else regarding this.”
Foreboding slithers down my spine, but I shake it off.
Ash leans back in his chair. “I want to call a Council vote.”
“Christ.” No longer being able to sit still, I stand from the chair and pace the office. “Because if this goes to shit by letting Slade stay here, you want everyone to know that the decision was Council-sanctioned.”
His expression is grave as he looks between Army and me. “I need my leadership on board with this decision.”
“And if we vote against Slade staying here?” Army asks the question that’s burning in my chest.
“Then Slade leaves.” Ash’s throat bobs with his hard swallow. “With me leaving with her.”
I stop pacing, my fists clenched. “Abso-fucking-lutely not.”
The thought of Slade actually leaving here…plus Ash leaving his post as President of the Havoc Guardians… I won’t fucking allow it.
“Jesus Christ, Ash,” Army exclaims. “Think about this for a hot minute.”
Ash’s chin is set, and his eyes are hard. “I can’t abandon her, not for a second time.”
“You didn’t abandon her. Tyla moved and took Slade with her,” Army reasons, leaning forward in his chair.
“Ash, think about this. Really fucking think about this.”
He stands from his chair and approaches me.
Gripping my shoulder, he wraps his other hand around the back of my neck.
“I’ve thought of nothing since Slade admitted she’s all but given up, brother.
I can’t let her down again. I can’t explain it, but she feels like my child, Bane.
I have to do whatever I can to protect her.
And if I have to step down as Prez and have you take over in order to do that, then I’ll do it. ”
“Then she stays.” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, it’s like all the internal warring and indecisiveness within me has vanished.
No other three words have ever felt so right.
Or felt like a solid metal door slamming closed. I’m just not sure if they’re solid doors shutting out the threat or sealing our doom.
Ash’s blue eyes are bright with emotion, that I’ve stopped fighting him on this, but he shakes his head. “We still need the Council to vote.”
As if on cue, the door opens and Pix blazes into the office with Digits coming in behind her and closing the door.
Pix looks ready to murder someone. “Cutt needs to die.”
Ash turns to her with a frown. “What happened now?”
“He just cornered Slade—”
“What?” My voice is low and full of malice.
Pix looks up at me. The murder in her eyes eases somewhat, and the corners of her lips curl with a small smile as she studies me. She reaches inside her leather cut and pulls out a flat-handled, long, thin knife. “Digits handled it, but if Cutt tries again, I’ll slice him into thin pieces.”
Digits settles his arm over Pix’s shoulders and wraps his hand around the side of her head to pull her into the tight crook of his arm. Pix’s murderous energy fizzles away, and Digits smiles. “Slade had it well in hand; she didn’t need much help from me.”
Which begs the question again of how she knows how to handle herself so well. The way she went at Destiny in the kitchen was something straight out of the Matrix, like she’s been trained in hand-to-hand combat.
Pix examines her knife, then looks at Ash. “It’s four in the afternoon, and Cutt is fucking wired on blow. This isn’t him just using recreationally. He’s impacting operations and going after people he shouldn’t touch.” She looks at her knife again. “Give me the word, and he’s gone.”
Ash sighs and runs his hands through his hair. “I’ll deal with it.”
For the thousandth time, I grit my teeth at the politics game that needs to be played regarding Cutt and that no mortal action could be taken against him without hard evidence that he’s working against the MC.
“Is Slade okay?” I ask, making Pix give me that assessing, odd look again.
Digits nods. “I took her to her room, and her brothers are with her.”