Chapter Ten
Bones
“Spike, I hope you don’t mind that I brought a few of my men.”
Fucking idiot.
“We said one man,” Spike replies, voice cold. “We agreed to meet publicly. One man each. Already showing you’re not a man of your word, Buckey. Not a good sign for our future.”
Buckey chuckles, smug and slow like he thinks he’s charming. It makes my fists itch.
I hate these damn Vipers.
“Well, you brought the infamous Bones,” Buckey says with a shrug. “I heard he can take down five men without breaking a sweat.”
I tilt my head just slightly. “Six, if they’re as dumb as you.”
Spike doesn’t miss a beat. “And with a smile on his face,” he says flatly. “Fine. Your men can stay. But I’ll remember this, Buckey. Next time, when you beg for trust, I’ll remind you how quick you were to piss on it.”
Buckey’s grin falters, just for a second, but I catch it. Good. Let the bastard sweat.
“Let’s get this over with,” Buckey says, strutting like a man who thinks he owns the sidewalk. “Why did I cross the border, Spike? What’s so important it couldn’t be said over the phone?”
“Los Fantasmas,” Spike replies.
“We’ve got nothing to do with that cartel,” Buckey says.“We can’t help you.”
“If you do , we can help you ,” Spike counters, calm as ever, as he sits on the edge of the picnic table like this whole thing’s just a casual Sunday chat.
We chose this park for a reason. Neutral ground, open space, halfway between our compound and the Vipers’ roach nest of a homestead. Public enough to prevent immediate violence. In theory.
Too bad. I’d give anything to lob one of my blades into Buckey’s smug little VP. He’s got that look in his eyes. The one that screams he thinks I’m a myth. That I bleed like anyone else.
Keep looking at me like that, asshole. Let’s find out.
“Help us how?” Buckey asks, suspiciously.
Spike leans forward, hands steepled. “You’re spread thin. Turf wars on your north end, trouble with suppliers. You’re losing ground.”
Buckey stiffens. His boys twitch. His VP’s hand drifts toward his hip like we won’t notice.
I do notice.
I smile. Just barely. A ghost of violence curling my lips. Let him reach. Please. Give me a reason to redecorate this park in red.
“I’ll offer you one of my chapters for six months,” Spike says, voice like smoke over gasoline. “That’s fifty men to help you reestablish control. And I’ll throw in a couple of our suppliers. Solid guys, no BS. Could be the lifeline you’re desperate for.”
That got their attention.
The shift is subtle, just the way Buckey’s shoulders relax a fraction, the way the VP stops inching. They didn’t expect Spike to offer actual help. They came here ready to be insulted, maybe threatened.
Instead, Spike handed them power.
Buckey’s jaw tightens. “And what do you want in return?”
Spike’s eyes go flint-hard. “I’m looking for a man who may or may not be working with Los Fantasmas. I want eyes on the ground. Intel. If he passes through your side of the line, I want to know the second he breathes your air.”
He doesn’t raise his voice. Doesn’t need to.
Me? I’m still watching the VP.
Because if he so much as blinks wrong, I’ll be the last thing he sees.
“You’re offering a lot for some simple intel,” Buckey says, voice dipped in skepticism, but there’s a thread of unease running under it.
Spike doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t even blink. “How do I know you won’t back down?” Buckey presses, his eyes narrowing.
“Because, unlike you, Buckey boy, I’m a man of my word,” Spike replies smoothly, all edge and cold like an ice pick.
“And just so you’re aware, this won’t be simple intel.
I need you to get someone in deep. Even if it’s as low as unclogging their toilets or sweeping their floors.
I don’t care. But I need to know where this man is and what kind of ties he has to Los Fantasmas. ”
The tension hangs thick in the air, rippling like static before a storm.
Buckey stares at Spike for a beat, the weight of the proposition settling like a rock in his gut.
He knows it’s no small task. Getting a man on the inside of that gang?
That’s a death sentence for anyone who isn’t prepared for it.
No one in their right mind would risk it unless they had a damn good reason.
“How long do I have to decide?” Buckey finally asks, his voice low, but there’s an edge of anxiety beneath it.
“Until I get on my bike and leave,” Spike replies without hesitation. “I have one more club to ask if you don’t agree. But I came to you first because I know you’re desperate. And right now, your options aren’t looking too great.”
Buckey’s jaw tightens, the words sinking in deeper than he lets on. “What club?”
Spike leans back just slightly, the hint of a smile curling up his lips. “Dragones Dorados.”
The VP freezes. “The Golden Dragons are the fuckers we’re at war with,” he spits.
“Exactly,” Spike says, his smile widening.
“So, here’s the deal. Either you take ours, and we help you kick their asses, or you don’t, and we help them kick yours.
Either way, I get what I want. And just so we’re clear, I fucking hate the Dragons.
Those assholes treat their women like cattle.
At least you and your boys know how to show respect for women and children. ”
Buckey shifts, a crack forming in the tough guy facade. Spike just laid it out plain. He’s got two roads, and both lead to him getting what he wants. The question is: which one will Buckey take?
“It’s not really much of a choice, is it?” Buckey mutters. “Fine. I accept.”
“You’re not gonna discuss this with your men?” Spike asks, brows raised.
“Would you?” Buckey fires back.
Spike’s eyes narrow. “Every decision I make is made with the backing of my brothers. It’s what keeps our club solid. Brotherhood. You should try it sometime.”
“Maybe after I’ve had a lobotomy,” Buckey grunts. “We accept. Now, who the hell are we risking our necks for?”
Spike pulls out his phone and taps the screen. “I’m sending his file to your email. Your man will need to get inside, close enough to know where he eats, sleeps, and shits. And when that time comes, tell him not to underestimate this guy. He’s dangerous.”
Buckey leans forward slightly. “Who is he?”
Spike’s jaw tightens. “One of mine. He was our Prospect Leader… until he betrayed us all. His name is Max.”
The name hangs in the air like a gunshot.
Max.
The fucker who sold us out, then helped us save Riley. The man whose face I still see in my scope more often than I’d like to admit. None of it’s ever made sense.
If he’s mixed up with Los Fantasmas, then he’s not the man I thought he was.
“I’ll contact you when we’ve got a man on the inside,” Buckey says finally, voice tense with unspoken questions.
Spike gives him a nod. “Good. I’ll send one of our chapters to Mexico by the end of the week. Make room. And Buckey…if something happens to one of my men at the hands of one of yours, Dragones Dorados will be the least of your worries.”
We walk away, the tension hanging behind us like smoke from a fire we just started.
But I’m already deep in thought.
Max.
He didn’t just betray us, he shook the fucking foundation of everything we built. And now we’re chasing ghosts south of the border, trying to make sense of a man who turned his back… and then saved one of ours.
Doesn’t add up.
Not yet.
But it will.
And when it does?
I’ll be waiting. The question is, will I be waiting with a carving knife in my hand or an open seat at our table?
The meeting ends without blood, which is a miracle I don’t take lightly. We mount up, engines growling like a pack of wolves finally let off the leash. The ride back is smooth. No shoot-out. No chase. Just the road and the weight of what’s coming.
My mind drifts like it always fucking does lately.
To her.
To Sunny.
That smile, soft and bright. The way she looks at me like I’m not broken. Like I’m not dangerous. Like I’m not Bones .
But I am.
And she’s not for this life.
She’s color and light and honey-sweet laughter. I’m bloodstains, shadows, and silence.
Sooner or later, my world would bleed into hers.
And I won’t let that happen.
So I’ll keep my distance.
I’ll do the one thing that might still make me a decent man in this story.
I’ll walk away.
Even if it guts me.
Even if it kills me.
Because loving her? That’d be the most selfish thing I’ve ever done.