Chapter 18 Havoc
HAVOC
Aweek after claiming Sasha, I’m at one of our construction sites, having a sit-down with Sharon, our architect. The young woman is some cousin of Carol’s niece or some shit like that, and has been working with Slade Construction since she finished school.
“I love your ideas for the project, Mr. Slade. It’s almost like a self-contained neighborhood. Solar power, water purification system, hydroponic gardens.”
“Havoc,” I remind her for the umpteenth time. “And that’s pretty much what we’re going for. I want as little civilian interference as possible. Hell, we’ll even handle our own sewage.”
Sharon nods, taking a few more notes in a shorthand I can’t read. “And why not? So, we’ll optimize the roofs to have the best possible daylight yield… position houses for maximum privacy…”
“And make sure there’s room for horses,” I add. “My old lady has one in the current stables, and we might get more down the line, who knows.”
“Easily doable. There’s enough space for every current member to have a home, plus for stables, paddocks, and garages.”
I purse my lips, thinking about my brothers. “Not everyone will want the responsibility of their own home. Some of them wouldn’t wear clean jeans if it weren’t for the sweetbutts hanging around the clubhouse.”
Sharon snickers but doesn’t comment on the helplessness of grown men. “We’ll make enough houses for interested members and hook them to the grid, but leave room for additions and easy access.”
“You’re amazing, Sharon,” I say as I lean back against the chair.
Our architect tilts her head, her reddish-brown curls seeming to glow in the sunlight coming through the windows.
“This is the best project you’ve had me on yet, Mr… Havoc.” She beams at me. “Trust me, it’s a labor of love.”
I open my mouth to reply when the sound of motorcycles approaching echoes over the din of hammers and drills outside.
Normally, it’s a familiar thing around our construction sites.
But because Sasha is out shopping with Stray’s wife, I get a bad feeling.
I asked Viper to tail them since both prospects are undercover at Lucky’s Bar, but maybe I should’ve put more men on them.
“Excuse me,” I murmur to Sharon as I push back from the plans-covered table. She blinks at me, her hazel eyes large behind wire-rimmed glasses, but doesn’t say anything.
As soon as I step outside the portable office, I see my gut was right—some shit’s about to go down. Because the bikers on the lot aren’t Sinners, they’re Forsaken Kings.
I let my hands hang loosely at my sides, not checking if my Glock is in my waistband—I know it is, and I’m not interested in getting my balls shot off today by reaching for it.
A low whistle escapes my lips when I see who’s at the head of the formation.
“Bishop,” I greet the Forsaken Kings’ President. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed this.” I tilt my chin at the large orange sign with Slade Construction Briar Fork written over it in clear letters. “But you’re in my town.”
Bishop scoffs, his black eyes gleaming. “That’s fuckin’ ironic, Havoc. Lecturing me ‘bout trespassing.”
I cross my hands at my chest, confident they’re not about to gun me down without provocation spitting distance from the police station.
“What are you talking about?” I drawl, keeping my face blank. Because, fucking hell, this is about the prospects, isn’t it? Did the kids get themselves killed following my orders?
“Don’t play dumb, Slade,” Rook, Bishop’s VP, says derisively. Not calling me by my road name on my own damned territory? He’s fucking asking for a beatdown.
“Either get to the point or fuck off,” I growl, taking a step closer. “Don’t fucking disrespect me more than you already are by rolling up flying your colors, boy.”
“Easy,” Bishop says with a low chuckle, at the same time as the men behind him make obvious signs of aggression, like gorillas at the zoo. He levels those depthless eyes onto me. “So you’re saying you didn’t send prospects into Ashford for who the fuck knows what reason?”
The hair at the back of my nape stands on end. He either knows Kade and Wyatt are Wicked Sinners prospects or he’s fishing. And does he really not know the reason, this soon after they killed Viking?
“Did they say they’re my prospects?” I ask, keeping my voice casual. “Or they got my name tattooed on their dicks?”
Despite the uneasy feeling, I watch with amusement as Rook’s fist clenches over the throttle. I allow my lips to curl into a smirk.
“So two kids from Briar Fork just happened to start hanging out in your bar?” their sergeant-at-arms, Switchback, asks.
I raise an eyebrow in his direction. “I don’t know, man. I don’t card guys in our bars to see where the fuck they live. They invite you home or something?”
Switchback starts dismounting his bike, but Bishop stops him with just a hand in the air. Damn, the control he has over them is impressive.
“So we should dump them somewhere else?” he asks me, his smile sharp enough to cut glass.
I exhale through my nose like I’m thinking, though I’m already planning to set their goddamned clubhouse on fire.
“If you brought them all the way here, you might as well send them home to their mothers,” I say evenly. “But I didn’t know that civilians crossing town borders get a taxi service home now.”
“Don’t fuckin’ play with us, Havoc,” Switchback growls. He’s a bit younger than Tank and a lot meaner, and he’s held his rank since Vike was president here and Bishop was just a VP there. He’s holding on to old grudges, I can see it on his face.
“Enough,” Bishop says, suddenly weary. He brings his hand to his mouth and lets loose a loud whistle.
A blacked-out van at the sidewalk opens its side doors, and boots roll out our tied and gagged prospects.
Wyatt hits the ground first, letting out a pathetic grunt, followed by Kade landing on him.
He doesn’t make a sound, but his head lolls to the side. Alive, then.
“Jesus,” I hiss, noting the bruises covering their faces. “What the fuck did you do to them?”
“Like you wouldn’t have done the same thing,” Wraith, their enforcer, rumbles. A quick scan shows me his knuckles are cracked and bruised. Noted.
“Hypothetically,” Bishop begins, drawing my attention to him. “If those two were prospects... what would they be doing at Lucky’s Bar?”
I rub my chin, stubble scratching my palm, and consider my answer. There’s an opportunity here, I just gotta play it right.
“Hypothetically,” I echo, my voice a fuck of a lot harder than his was. “If Forsaken Kings killed Viking, who would’ve given the order and who would’ve carried it out?”
Bishop blinks. Just once. Rook’s eyes narrow, while Switchback’s dart to his Prez.
What the fuck is going on here?
“I heard about Viking,” Bishop says slowly. “Wasn’t us.”
I scoff, my hands itching to go to my gun. “You gonna lie to me here?”
“He’s not lying,” Rook adds. “That was ancient history as far as we’re concerned, brother.”
I clench my jaw, my teeth grinding together. Everything inside me is screaming to tell him I’m not his brother. But the prospects are lying on the ground, all beat up, and I gotta wrap this shit up.
“Look,” Bishop says, no trace of humor left on his face. “We’ll have a sit-down and talk. Air shit out without fists flyin’ and guns blazin’.”
“Fine,” I grit out. “We’ll set it up. Now get outta here so I can return what’s left of those boys to their mothers.”
Bishop regards me for a second longer before nodding and kicking his bike to life. With two familiar hand gestures, they pull out of the site in formation, the black van trailing behind. As soon as they’re out of sight, I jog up to the prospects.
“Hey,” I call out, crouching by their side. “What the fuck happened?”
When all I get are pathetic groans, I fish my phone out of my pocket and call Beckett, our doctor.
He picks up after the first ring. “Havoc,” I snap out. “Can you come to the construction site on Fourth and Main? Got two beat-up guys here.”
“Be right there,” he replies. “I’m just around the corner.”
Everything’s just around the fucking corner in this town. I don’t say that, though, hanging up with a grunt.
I wave over a couple of workers, ignoring their questions as they spot Wyatt and Kade on the sidewalk.
“What happened, boss?”
“Never mind. Get them inside the office. Dr. Beckett’s coming to look at them.”
My phone rings as I follow them in. Diesel.
“What?” I bark into the microphone. “Got a situation I’m handling here.”
“You got a bigger one here,” Diesel says, his voice serious enough to stop me in my tracks.
“What happened? Where’s Sasha?”
“She’s here,” he says quickly. “And she’s fine. More or less.”
I swear the world turns red as my blood pressure spikes. “More or less? What the fuck, Evan?”
“The Forsaken Kings tried to take her from the mall’s parking lot,” Diesel says. “But Viper got in there and stopped them.”
My blood goes ice cold thinking what could have happened if Viper weren’t there.
“We have to retaliate,” Diesel adds while my mind is still spinning with worst-case scenarios. “Show them what happens when they go after our old ladies.”
“It wasn’t them,” I say numbly.
“What?”
I spin around, looking at where the Forsaken were parked just minutes ago.
“At least it wasn’t sanctioned. Bishop was just here,” I explain. “Rook, Switchback, Wraith, a few newer kids.”
“What? Why? And just because they were there doesn’t mean it wasn’t a distraction. They still could’ve sent people for Sasha.”
“They brought the prospects to me in the back of a van,” I growl, pissed all over again.
“Shit! Alive?” Diesel asks.
I grunt. “Yeah. Bloody and unconscious, but breathing.”
I run my free hand through my hair. Beckett will take care of the boys. I need to get home to my old lady.
“I’m on my way. I’ll tell you everything when I see for myself that Sasha’s alright.”