Chapter 22 Havoc
HAVOC
Iswing my leg over my bike, dismounting with a smooth motion I’ve perfected over the years.
Next to me, Diesel leans against the side of his ride, his ass half in the seat.
His arms are crossed at the chest, and the look on his face lets me know he’s wary as fuck. I’m not exactly comfortable either.
My gut tells me Bishop had nothing to do with Viking’s death and the attempt on my old lady. But with volatile situations like this, you never know when shit’s gonna hit the fan.
“You sure about this, Prez?” Diesel asks carefully.
I grunt. “Yeah. The guys know what to do if it goes sideways.”
I really fucking hope it doesn’t go sideways, though. I want to get back to Sasha.
The clubhouse is on lockdown until we send the all-clear. The prospects, Tank, Bone, Viper, Stray, and Reaper are keeping our families safe. Riot, Ace, Ryder, Trigger, Preacher, Gunner, and Bullet are waiting a couple of miles back, ready to join Diesel and me if needed.
“Here they come,” Diesel murmurs at the sound of approaching bikes from behind the bend. We’re between Briar Fork and Ashford, and if Bishop honors the agreement, it should be just Rook and him coming now.
Two headlights wash over us as they take the turn, not quite blinding me as the sky is still a light indigo and not fully black.
Bishop and Rook dismount and stride closer.
The Forsaken King’s president stretches out his hand, and I hesitate.
So much blood had been spilled on both sides.
The grudge runs deep. But there’s only one direction we can ride in now—forward.
I reach out and slap my hand against his. “Bishop.”
“Havoc,” he replies, then nods at my VP. “Diesel.”
Rook shakes my hand after his Prez steps aside. “We’ve been talking,” he says, nodding at Bishop.
“Good,” Diesel drawls. “Because there’s been so much bullshit, the whole county is stinking of it.”
Bishop nods, crossing his arms over his chest. “So, it’s my understanding you sent prospects to Lucky’s to listen to chatter because you believed we had something to do with Viking’s death?”
Straight to the point, I guess. In other circumstances, I might actually like this man.
I slowly blow air out of my nose. “And I’m guessing you wouldn’t be here if you did?”
“We heard about it,” Bishop says. “Thought it was business gone wrong.”
“It’s been over twelve years since Grim died,” Rook adds. “We lost our Prez, your Prez lost his wife.”
Bishop takes over again. “I know we haven’t been drinking buddies since, but as far as we were concerned, it was done.”
“We thought so too,” Diesel says, his stance relaxing—he sees what I saw when I looked at Bishop’s face. He’s my VP for a reason, after all. His powers of observation have a lot to do with that.
Rook raises an eyebrow. “So, are you gonna tell us what exactly happened to change that?”
I look at my boots, debating how much to share.
“Viking called me that night,” I begin. “He already took a bullet to the side, but he managed to tell me that the Forsaken were finally there and to protect Sasha.”
“Who’s now your old lady.” When I glance at Bishop, he shrugs. “News like that travels fast, brother. Congratulations.”
Deciding he’s being honest enough, I nod back in acknowledgment. “Yeah. Back to what I was saying. I got there as fast as I could. Cops were already at his house. Sasha called ‘em in. And there was a dead Forsaken on the lawn next to Vike.”
The two Forsaken in front of me exchange loaded looks.
“What?” Diesel asks impatiently.
“Chief Morris paid us a visit last month. Rook and I were handling some club business in Kentucky, along with half of our club, but Switch and our secretary, Jug, handled it. Called me that evening.”
Diesel snorts. “And what did they tell you?”
“That some punk in Briar Fork wore a fake Kings patch to rob a convenience store and got killed,” Bishop replies, his voice grim.
“What the fuck?” my VP asks, echoing my thoughts. “And the truth never got to you? You expect us to believe that?”
“Believe what you want, Diesel,” Rook says, sounding exasperated. “He wasn’t one of ours, we’re whole.”
It’s my turn to exchange looks with my VP. I can all but hear what’s written on his face—do we believe them?
When I turn back to look at Bishop, I see a man who’s just realized that hindsight is indeed a bitch.
“Looks like half your club is keeping things from you, brother,” I comment. I’m not trying to rub it in—just stating a fact.
“Sure fucking looks that way,” he says, his mouth set in hard lines. “Starting with my SAA. What the fuck is he hoping to achieve? A war between our clubs?”
“He very nearly fucking got it,” I mutter. “Twelve years ago? I’d have gone after you on your own territory the day after Viking died. It’s only because of what happened to Savannah that I waited to gather intel. But have no doubt, brother. We were gonna come for you. Soon.”
“We’re not letting Vike’s death slide,” Diesel adds. “Or them putting hands on our Prez’s old lady. We want blood.”
“And you’ll get it,” Bishop grunts. “But first, I need to find out how deep this runs. If Switch isn’t above putting fake patches on random thugs, then he can’t have as much manpower as he wants from the club.”
“What do you suggest?” I ask, running a hand through my hair. “We knock on his door and ask him nicely to tell us who helped him kill our old Prez?”
Bishop snorts, the sound too grim to be amusement. “We may have to be more persuasive than that.”
“Need a hand?” Diesel asks casually. “We have half our club waiting at a pitstop a couple of miles down the road.”
Rook chuckles. “Of course you do.”
“You could be leading us into a trap,” my VP adds, a cocky grin on his face. I think he’s waited long enough to break some bones and get justice for our fallen brother. He doesn’t seem to care whose bones they are anymore.
“We could be heading into a trap,” Bishop snarls, though it doesn’t seem like the anger is directed at Diesel. “That fucker knows we went to a meet with you. Tried talking us out of it.”
“That’s not good,” Diesel says, looking at me. “Might be targeting our clubhouse thinking it’s weak.”
“Well, it’s not,” I growl. “But call them to be on the lookout for anything suspicious.”
Diesel nods, already pulling his phone out. When he turns his back, I focus on the two Forsaken.
“What’s the plan here? You shouldn’t go without us. Not just because we have an axe to grind with that old man. You don’t even know who you can trust.”
Bishop sighs, suddenly looking older, even though he’s closer to Diesel’s age than mine.
“I know a few who are solid,” he says after a moment. “Besides Rook, my road captain, Jinx. A few others. I’m sure a few more will end up being just as blindsided by this as we are.”
Rook nods at his president’s words, his eyes narrowed in thought.
“Call Jinx and ask where Switch is at,” Bishop commands his VP. “If he’s at the clubhouse, we can’t roll up with a bunch of Sinners in tow. No offense, Havoc.”
“None taken.”
We’d be the same if the tables were turned. You don’t bring another club in to handle your business.
“But if he’s at his shitty fucking cabin,” Rook picks up, nodding grimly. “Hiding there like a motherfucking pussy...”
“Then he’s free game,” I finish.
Diesel walks back to our group, nodding at me once. It’s done—the members in the clubhouse know to watch out for fringe Forsaken activity.
“Switchback can’t die before he tells us who’s involved in this,” Bishop warns us. “I know you want to put him down, and, fuck, I want to put him down just as bad. But we gotta know.”
“Understood,” I say immediately. “We want everyone involved to bleed too.”
“What a fucking day,” Rook says, tilting his head left and right and making his neck crack. “Never thought we’d partner up with Sinners to take down our own members.”
“I never thought we’d have to take down our members,” Bishop counters. “How’d we fucking get here?”
Rook squeezes Bishop’s shoulder in solidarity, and I can’t help but think how grateful I am to have my brothers at my back and not looking to plunge a knife into it.
“I’ll call Jinx,” Rook mutters, tapping on his phone.
“You need backup?” a smooth voice asks after the first ring.
“Maybe,” the Forsaken VP answers. “But not because of the Sinners. You got eyes on Switchback?”
“Switch?” Jinx echoes, the confusion in his voice clear as day. “He went up to his cabin, saying he’s clearly not needed tonight.”
Rook rolls his eyes. “A traitor and a drama queen.”
A moment of stunned silence.
“Traitor? What the fuck is going on, Rook?”
The Forsaken take a minute to bring their road captain up to speed, letting us listen in. It goes a long way to show me this isn’t some game to get us to drop our guard.
“I’ll meet you there,” Jinx says, his voice a low growl. “I wanna help root this shit out.”
“You’re in, brother,” Bishop replies. “Just keep it on the lowdown until we figure out who else is in on it.”
“You got it.”
“Alright,” I say once we hang up. “I can call my men in as backup? Who knows how many more chumps like the one Vike took down Switchback has at that cabin.
Bishop nods after a second of consideration. “Let’s get this done.”