Chapter Twenty-One #4
“Normal individual pieces, but the RC liked to do boomies, so there’s a fuckton of Tannerite. It’s just laying around on tables and shit.”
“Well, that is inconvenient. No random shots, got it.”
“Busk wants a call.”
“‘Dokies. Text me if there’s anything I need to know.”
“Yup. Shiny side up, brother.”
“You know it, Pony. Later, brother.”
Before he could do more than pull the phone away from his ear it was ringing. Busk.
“Brother?” Cherry didn’t elaborate on the greeting. He didn’t need to.
“Cherry, I just got off the phone with Twisted. He and Atlas came to an agreement. They will patch over. The Jacksonville club will be easy, straight patch ceremony. All the members are in agreement.”
“Sounds like a good solution. Absorb before we have problems.” Cherry’s mind raced ahead. “What about the ones I’m chasing?”
“They’ve been removed from the member roster. Atlas informed each of the men what the outcome would be if they didn’t immediately return to the clubhouse. That handful of men are who refused. They’re no longer in a club, rival or not.”
“So now they are individual assholes who need to answer for their sins. Got it. Can you tell Pony to expect a cleaner call in a few?”
“Will do.”
“And what’s happening with the rest of the ASMC there in Baton Rouge?”
“They’re going to need a good Enforcer lesson or two.”
“Of course they are. Maybe I can find a good apprentice in the ranks soon.”
“If it’s a heavy burden, brother, we should talk.”
“I found my guy, man.”
“I’ll let Ruger know we need to have a confab.”
“Okay, I’m going to go deal with these assholes.”
He hung up as he twisted and pointed to Jinx. “Hey, Savin’ Bacon, there are two drones ahead that are parked over the top of two men you need to bring in. Don’t care how you do it, long as it gets done.”
“Understood.” Jinx pointed to two of the men in his crew and they had a quiet conversation while Cherry glanced at the other men.
“There’s Tannerite laying around inside the clubhouse. That kinda precludes going in guns blazing. Use chains if you think you’re controlled enough, otherwise it’s going to be an old fashioned knuckle sandwich beatdown. Anyone have questions?”
No one raised a hand, and he nodded. “Let’s roll.”
***
Cherry stood with his back to the clubhouse wall, listening to the conversations going on inside.
“Those IMC pussies aren’t going to do anything. We’ll own Red Stick before you know it.”
“ASMC in charge. Changes are going to be happening, brothers. We’ll lay down the law to everyone on two wheels.”
He couldn’t identify the two speakers. Probably Apollo and Dillinger, but it didn’t really matter, they were openly discussing attacking his club, his brothers. Make bad choices, get shitty prizes.
He pointed at the front door, then at Salty and Jinx. A finger pointed at himself, and the rest of the club were directed around the corner to where the back door was. Both were open, pulling fresh air through the club. Typical bayou life.
The sound of movement came from inside the clubhouse.
Cherry lifted a fist and looked around, then pumped it twice.
They were inside in moments. The chaos was divided between the doors, as expected.
He saw Salty throw two punches and take down his man.
A man with terror on his face approached and Cherry cocked one arm back, meeting the man’s momentum with his own. He went down like a broken marionette.
Another man tried to run past, and Cherry grabbed his arm, swinging him in a half circle. Doodle was there with a hammer blow, and another ASMC reject hit the dirt.
Silence fell around him, and he looked back and forth. “Not a single shot fired. Love it.” Two IMC men had taken a knee, and he pointed towards them. “Get some aid going.” Doodle nodded and moved towards the two men, but then paused.
“Uh, Enforcer? I’m thinking you need some, too.” Face bloody from a split lip, Salty appeared in front of Cherry and steered him back against the wall.
Cherry pushed against the hold. “Get off, brother. I’ve got to deal with final arrangements.”
“You’re bleeding, Enforcer. Let’s give it a gander. Long as you’re not spurting, I’ll back off.”
Cherry held the edges of his vest out wide, letting Salty have access to whatever he’d seen.
“Survivors need to be restrained and taken outside.” He motioned to the two members riding herd on the failed lookouts. “Take them out back, too.”
“You’ll survive.” Salty backed up. “I’d like to get it packed, but that can wait. You’re not quite bleeding like a stuck pig. I don’t like it, but you should go and carry out the judgement.”
“Got it.” Cherry looked around the room, surprised to find three men still on the floor. The two he’d interacted with and another by the front door. “These three toes up?”
“Yup. You’re a hella deadly Enforcer, I like it.” Salty grinned, then licked at his split lip, more blood trickling down his chin. “Fuckin’ glad you’re on our team, brother.”
“Three down. Three to go.” Cherry clenched and released his fist a few times, finally feeling the sting of busted knuckles and aching flesh. “I’m glad we’re on the same team, too, man.”
Outside there were three men in a line kneeling in the dirt, bound hands lifted behind their backs, forcing their heads down.
“Which ones are Apollo and Dillinger?” He saw a prisoner jerk at the question and pointed at him. “Which one is he?”
“Dillinger, the VP. Apollo is still inside.”
“Not no more he isn’t. Get those colors off them. ASMC is no more, we’re going to burn all those vests.” He watched as men went to work on removing the vests.
A man shouted in pain and Cherry saw Jinx shrug. “Oops.”
“Listen—” Cherry turned when the door opened behind him.
Several bodies were being carried outside, these were the RC members that ASMC had slaughtered.
“Know what? Never mind.” He walked behind the first man, pulled his gun, and in a smooth movement slotted the muzzle against the back of the man’s head.
“Goodbye.” He squeezed the trigger, then took two steps to put himself behind the next man. And then the next.
Cherry winced; the kickback of the gun had set his side on fire.
“Hey, Salty,” Jinx called, “Enforcer needs a little more TLC.”
“On it.” Salty was in Cherry’s face, then an arm slipped underneath his own, holding him up. “Let’s go back inside so I can get at things better. Hey, Sir, can you grab that bag off my bike again?” He must have received an affirmative response because Salty grunted out, “Thanks.”
“Report on our injured?”
“Other than you, you mean?”
“Don’t crawl up my ass, Salty. Just give me a rundown.”
“One with bruised, or more likely, broken ribs. We’ll dope him and he can ride his bike back, no problem.
Second with a through-and-through in his leg.
No major structures compromised, but he’s got a fucking big hole in his skin.
I’ve got him packed and wrapped, and he should be good to go, it’s not his shifter leg.
” Salty maneuvered Cherry to a chair and pushed him into it.
“Do you know who did the stabby stabby to you?”
“Is that what it is?” Cherry looked down and noticed a hole in his vest. “Fucking asshole pegged my cut.”
“We’ll stitch around it in celebration of your survival.” Salty took a pack from Sir Loin, then gestured at Cherry. “Hold his arms up, yeah?”
Fingers probed where the fire was worst, where the small blaze was burning, and with the attention it flared into a wildfire.
“The fuck. That hurts.”
“Good, means you aren’t in shock. Give me another thirty seconds and I’ll start packing it. The blade nicked two ribs, the bones keeping the knife from slamming home. I just want to get the splinters out.”
Another probe unleashed a new wave of fire that had Cherry gritting his teeth together hard.
“Nearly done, brother?” The pressure disappeared and Cherry pulled in a breath.
He looked down for the first time, noticing the swath of blood that went from his sternum to the hem of his shirt.
Lifting the tail, he saw a hole with a plug of what looked like fabric. “This gonna hold until tomorrow?”
“Should, long as you don’t engage in too vigorous activity.” Salty was grinning, brows waggling suggestively. “You know what I mean.”
Cherry pulled out his phone and made the necessary calls, beginning with one to Wildman about the cache of Tannerite they’d danced around tonight.
His next call started a cleaning crew moving towards the RC clubhouse.
He counted seventeen dead. All of them because of ASMC’s useless fucking decisions.
Instead of standing and taking their medicine, they had to come up here and ruin more lives.
Ignoring the anger still circling through his gut, he sent one final text, *Done. Coming home to you.*