9 – Spike
H e tracked me down.
I didn’t think he would—I thought for sure he’d stick with the life he had already chosen because it was easier, but he found me, and he made me a deal. He had the name I wanted, the one who ordered the hit on Bear, and in exchange he wanted the chance to become a prospect for the club.
His name is Fynn.
I admire his courage, because after the last encounter we had, I was certain I’d never see him again.
He proved me wrong, and he showed up with something I wanted.
He’s smart, but most of all, I can see in his eyes that he wants a different life.
“You know that if I do this, and you want in on this club, you gotta stand by me,” I say to him, standing outside the front of a bar by my motorcycle.
Fynn nods, his face stern and unwavering. “I know.”
“Goin’ to get yourself some enemies ...”
He nods again. “Know that, too.”
He is unbothered, at least, he’s not showing that he’s even remotely concerned about the entire drug world turning on him. This guy I’m about to confront isn’t the top dog, but he is the one running this city, and, because of that, I know that messing with him is going to put my point across loud and clear.
It’s the only way.
If we don’t avenge Bear, then nobody will ever know not to fucking mess with the club.
They need to know if they touch our own, we will come back tenfold.
I might have made them angry because of my actions, but they have been roaming around this town long before I started taking them out. They have been trying to get the upper hand, trying to push the club down, trying to mess up our shipments and fuck up our deals. This is a war they started, and it’s one I will make it my mission to finish.
When we are feared once more, I will back down.
It’s the only way to keep us all safe, even if Jackson refuses to see that.
“Let’s go.”
Fynn gets in his truck and follows me when I begin the ride to where I want to go. I haven’t told him the plan; I don’t need to. He just needs to stand by my side, to pledge his loyalty to me and the club without interfering in what is going to happen when I stop this bike.
Because when I stop it, the world will wish I didn’t.
I’ve set this up exactly how I want it to go.
I’ve made sure he’ll be there, thinking he is meeting with a potential buyer, a big one, someone who can bring in millions to their business. What he doesn’t know is that I have more people on my side than he does, and it didn’t take much for me to put a plan together. He won’t see it coming, and that’s exactly how I want it.
Riding toward the wharf, where all our exchanges happen, I pull my bike over and stare in the distance to where two SUVs are parked. I know they’re waiting, and I know in minutes, this quiet situation is going to blow up in my face. That’s exactly how I fucking want it.
Fynn gets out of his truck and stands beside me.
“You got a gun?” I ask.
He nods.
“Let’s go.”
I don’t hesitate, I don’t pause, I walk toward the SUVs. I can see him turning toward me as I get close, his eyes widening when he realizes that I’m not the person he was planning on meeting. He goes to raise a hand, to gather his men for help, but I don’t give him a chance. Meeting his cold green eyes, I pull my gun out and aim it at his head. I don’t even give him the chance for a final say.
I pull the trigger.
The bullet rips through his forehead, and blood explodes from his skull as he falls backward.
Then chaos unfolds.
He didn’t come alone; I didn’t expect him to. Men pile out of the cars, weapons drawn. Fynn has his gun out, and without a single word, we shoot. We shoot to kill, and we don’t miss. I’ve spent a lot of years perfecting the art of hitting someone in the right spot and not missing, and that’s exactly what I do. A rage fills me, one unlike anything I’ve ever felt, and as I picture Bear’s face in my mind, I know I’m doing it for him.
A bullet tears through my arm, causing my gun to fall from my hand as an agonized bellow is ripped from my throat. Clutching the blood flowing through my jacket, I bare my teeth and growl, raw and feral, as Fynn steps in front of me. He shields me as he precisely and accurately takes out the man who shot me.
A man who was standing behind a car in the distance.
Back up, just in case.
Then, the world falls quiet.
The only sound in the stark daylight is my panting as pain radiates through my body. I’ve been shot before, but that deep burn is not something you ever get used to. It’ll hurt for days, but nothing will take away from the sheer pride I feel as I stare at the five dead bodies on the ground. I did it for Bear, for all of us.
Nobody will fucking touch us without feeling the wrath.
Turning toward Fynn, I nod in appreciation.
He saved my life.
He stepped in front of me without a second thought.
“Appreciate what you did.”
Another nod.
He’s a man of very few words, but I like that about him.
“Time to get out of here,” I say, shoving my gun back into my jeans and keeping my other hand clutched onto my arm.
“I’ll get that out for you,” Fynn nods at my arm. “Done plenty in my time.”
It’s not a wild guess to assume that Fynn has had a rough life.
Following him to his truck, we agree on a location to meet that is safe where he can deal with this fucking bullet.
Then, I will take him to the club.
Jackson be damned.
“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU thinkin’?” Jackson roars, his fists clenched by his sides, his eyes wild with a rage I haven’t seen come from him in a long time.
It’s overdue, that’s for damn sure.
He needs to bring that side of him back out because the man I once knew, could run a club and nobody dared come knocking.
“He’s loyal. He proved his worth to me today.”
My voice is clipped and short, straight to the point.
“You don’t fuckin’ know him. He could be anyone. What the fuck is goin’ through your head, Spike? You know we screen everyone who comes into this club.”
I cross my arms, the burn radiating through my shoulder. “ You screen them. When I ran a club, I fuckin’ did it the way I do now, by a show of loyalty. Never had a fuckin’ problem.”
Jackson’s eyes flare, and the rage in his face is enough to have my body tensing, but I don’t back down.
“Give me your jacket.”
I freeze.
Jackson’s eyes don’t waver.
“What did you say?”
“I said,” he growls, his voice a low whip, “give me your jacket. You have lost the right to represent my club with that patch on your jacket.”
Being that I was once the president of a club, Jackson allowed me to keep my patch. It was respect and honor, and him removing it is a fucking blow that I’m not sure I’ll ever recover from.
“If I don’t?” I grind out.
“If you don’t, Danny, then you will leave my club and never be allowed to return.”
He has never called me Danny, not in all the years I’ve known him.
A cold chill washes over my body.
Cade, who is standing behind him, looks like he’s concerned about what is about to break out right now. We always knew this day would come when I struggled to accept my part beneath him. I was born a leader.
“Remove the jacket, or I’ll have it removed for you.”
I hold Jackson’s eyes, neither of us wavering.
If I don’t do this, I lose my family.
If I do this, I lose my legacy.
Either way I lose.
“There are rules,” he goes on, his voice so cold I almost don’t recognize him. “If you don’t abide by them, you suffer the consequences. The patch will be removed, and that will be the least of your problems if you continue down this path you’re on.”
My heart is racing in my chest, and as I look to Cade, I know he’ll back Jackson all the way. Of course he will, he’s loyal to his club and I wouldn’t expect him not to be.
“People in this town are walkin’ all over this club,” I growl.
Jackson’s rage explodes and he bellows, “And I have a plan on dealin’ with that. It was never your place to make decisions on behalf of this fuckin’ club. We work together and if you can’t do that, you no longer have a place here.”
My body jerks like I’ve been punched.
Slowly, inch by inch, I slide my jacket off. Without it, I feel naked, bare, no longer protected by the one thing I have always had. I toss it at him, and he catches it in his hand, passing it back to Cade who takes it. His eyes radiate confusion, because part of him wants to back me up, I know it. He won’t do it, but that doesn’t mean the feeling ain’t there.
“Remove that patch and return it to him,” Jackson orders, his eyes never leaving mine.
Cade nods, leaving the room.
“You want the right to wear that patch, you fuckin’ earn it. The next move you make against my club will be a personal attack on me and I’ll deal with you the way I deal with anyone who goes against me.”
I grit my teeth, but deep down, I know I’ve fucked up.
I fucking know it.
Turning, I leave the room, and as I walk past the other guys, I know they’re all watching, staring at my shirt, knowing that I’ve been stripped of something that means the world to me.
Addison is standing by the front door when I walk past her, without a single word, the wound on my arm leaking blood that is running down my arm. I don’t even look at her as I move to my bike. I don’t say a fucking word. I have nothing to say. I need to get the fuck out of here.
“Daddy,” she whispers, and I know Jackson is standing beside her.
“It ain’t none of your business.”
That’s all I hear before I get on my bike and speed out of there.
Fuck.
What have I done?