21. Halo
We finally have a fucking lead the following day, and it needs the kind of precision I’m used to. Stealth entry, extraction, leave no trace. If we do this right, no one will ever know we were there.
Camden, New Jersey, is an hour’s ride from Asbury Park and is considered one of the worst places to live in Jersey because of its murder and crime rate. The good news is that it will make it easier to do what we need to do. People mind their own business in a place like this.
Sitting next to King on one of the side seats, looking out the front window of the van, I can see why. Boarded and semi-demolished buildings flank either side of the road in this part of the city. Rubble spills onto the sidewalk. Darkness hangs dangerously over everything, and there’s an uneasy lack of life. No people on their porches. No vehicles moving. No lights.
Perfect for what we’re here to do.
It’s meant to be a quick in and out for intelligence purposes.
All we need is a lead to my half-brother.
We’ve come in the van because ten bikes and riders in cuts can attract attention. Instead, we’re all dressed in black. My body is loaded with weapons. I have knives on my belt, in my boot.
My trusted M4A1 has been cleaned, tested, and loaded. Fucking love it in a close-quarter shoot-out, as its high velocity turns body armor into cheesecake. Ari was making a lasagna while I took it apart and cleaned it at the kitchen table. She didn’t ask why I was cleaning it. Neither did she ask why I was dressed for death.
Instead, she fed me pasta and said whatever I was going out to do probably needed a full stomach.
Fucking good lasagna too.
I keep thinking about listening to her talk to Lola over the baby monitor yesterday.
I want him to think I’m the prettiest woman he knows.
She doesn’t need to try hard. Already know that’s true.
I watched as she danced around to country songs in the kitchen as she cooked. At one point, she picked Lola up and was twirling her around, making them both laugh so hard I forgot I was supposed to be dealing with Dad’s things. I just leaned back in the chair, smiling as I sipped my beer, watching the two of them.
Pure innocence bringing my home alive.
Like the photo frame that appeared in the hallway with pictures of me and Lola. Seemed wrong that Ari wasn’t in there with us.
None of it changes the fact that the very best thing I can do for her, as young as she is, with the past she has, is to put her out into the world so she can choose what and who she really wants next. I’m a safe landing place. I’m better than what she had, yet not as good as she could get.
But I’d be lying to myself if the whole thing didn’t suck. Mom’s gone. Dad’s gone. Soon Ari will be too, taking Lola with her.
And, worse, I’m the one pushing her toward the door.
I guess I face two possible futures. One where I settle down with Ari and Lola, worrying that she’ll leave sooner or later. Or an alternate one where I go on alone, filling the gaps with unemotional sex in between the occasional visit with the two of them.
I should let her go, but…
Which is why I’m now thinking about her instead of the two Sig Sauer P226s on my hips and the ton of ammo I brought with me in case shit turns nasty.
“I’ll lead us in,” I say to no one in particular.
Spark leans forward. “Fuck that shit. I’ll lead us in.”
“This is my blood family,” I remind him.
“The very reason you shouldn’t even be here, let alone go first.”
“A Marine versus a SEAL,” Niro says in the tone of a wildlife documentary maker. “Who will win this display of ego?”
“Fuck off, Niro,” we both say in unison.
Bates hides his grin behind his hand.
“Halo will lead the front entry,” King says. “I’ll lead the back.”
“Why the fuck are you letting him lead?” Spark asks.
King turns to face him. “Because Little Chick needs you in one piece.”
And there it is. The tight relationship between my brother and the woman who brought him back from the brink. The two of them need each other. It feels like five minutes since he threatened to go ballistic on an ATF agent who shoved Iris. It’s thanks to Clutch, who took an elbow to the face while restraining Spark, that Spark isn’t in prison as we speak. If anything happens to Iris during this whole process, I worry we’ll lose him.
We all do.
But King is smart. He’s found the one way to get Spark to capitulate.
“Halo’s got Lola,” Spark says, but I can tell the weight is gone from his words.
And the idea I have a dependent is something I’m coming to terms with. But I do have an out. “Lola has Arianne, her aunt, if anything happens to me.”
“Fuck.” Spark rubs a hand over his face. “I’m gonna have to think about this shit. But Bates has Avery, and Vi’s pregnant too.”
“I’ve got Vi if anything happens to him,” Niro says.
Bates looks at his best friend. “I get the gist of what you’re trying to say, but could you please not say you’ve got my old lady.”
After a moment of awkwardness, everyone laughs. This breaks the tension in the van, which I’m sure was Bates’s intention.
“And I’ve got Vi if anything happens to Niro,” Cat adds.
“Fuck me,” King grumbles. “If we end up in a situation where we’ve lost both Bates and Niro, we’ve got bigger problems than who has Vi.”
“Cat and Vi and Avery can come live with me. I’ll open a commune. All free love and sharing,” Vex offers. “You know I’ll treat your old ladies right.”
Cat throws her arm over Vex’s shoulder. “That’s so nice of you.”
“Like fuck she will,” Niro says.
“You hold him down, I’ll hit him,” Bates says with a huge grin that says he knows it’s all teasing.
One of the things I love about being a part of a motorcycle club is the camaraderie. It’s like being on a SEAL team twenty-four seven. We fight hard, play hard, and work hard. But at the end of the day, we know we have each other’s backs.
“Fine,” Spark says finally. “Halo leads. But we need to stick with the plan we discussed at the clubhouse.”
We agreed. Efficient and economical movement. Close quarters. Clearing sector by sector with balanced turns around closed corners.
“Done,” I say.
The house looks more like a squat when we pull up to it. The leaders of the Brotherhood had over eleven million in various bank accounts, and yet some of their members live like this.
I should be surprised, but I guess it’s no different to those Evangelical ministers and their mega-churches and flashy lifestyles when all those sinners Jesus encourages them to get comfortable with sleep in tent cities around the US.
“Ready?” King asks.
I nod and tug my neck warmer up over my nose to hide my face. My hair is braided so it doesn’t obstruct my vision. When we come to a stop, I scramble to the back of the van to lead out first. Niro pushes the van doors open so I can step out with my weapon raised. Landing on the balls of my feet, I study the area.
Only one streetlight out of seven actually works, and thankfully it’s too far down the street to be of much use.
Silently, my brothers fall out behind me. Switch stays in the van, engine running, but he kills the lights.
We split into the teams we arranged. Spark is so close behind me, I can feel his breath on my neck. “Any closer, I’ll end up pregnant,” I whisper.
“Funny,” he replies.
Clutch steps up and picks the lock. Most people, if they fire a gun, hold it somewhere mid-chest and shoot straight. So, we crouch as I nudge the door open, ready to take out anyone who tries.
I flip down my night vision goggles. A pile of pizza boxes and other take-out trash is stacked in the hallway. There are sheets of paper hung on the wall by a single piece of tape.
They are filled with rules and military structures and talking points for the American New Order.
Jesus, they fancy themselves as some kind of organized militia.
The lights are off on the lower level, but there is the soft glow of a light up the stairs. I guess militias go to bed at eleven.
I see King’s outline move down the hallway from what is likely the kitchen. But my team is meant to clear the upper level. Pressing my back to the wall, I take the stairs with my weapon raised.
Our best efforts to remain silent are thwarted by creaking stairs. Someone somewhere in the house kicks a can over.
“You hear that?” a voice says.
“Fucking rats,” another answers.
I’ve been called plenty of things before, but a rat isn’t one of them.
I raise two fingers and point towards the first bedroom. Catalina and Vex move past me as I provide cover. I do the same again and point to the room with the light. Spark and Clutch take it.
I hear the muffled cries and take the rest of the stairs, then rush into the third room.
The cries turn into shouts.
Mayhem commences. There are two men in the room. One in the bed, the other on a mattress on the floor. Neither has a weapon near them. It’s so easy, it’s like taking candy from a baby.
But then I remember letting Lola try ice cream. That kid took one bite and was so excited by it that she grabbed onto the waffle cone hard enough that she broke it. She’s probably tougher than these losers at twelve months old.
I toss a cable tie to the one on the floor, flip my night vision goggles, and turn on the light. “Go tie his hands behind his back.”
He doesn’t even put up a fight. I have him beaten in size, weaponry, and skill. And his friend just lets him tie him up.
From the banging in the room next to me, there is a fight going on. “Seems like I got the cowards.”
Neither of them says a word. The one on the bed looks like he’s about to shit his pants.
They don’t look much older than college kids. Or perhaps I’m getting older.
A single gunshot fires somewhere in the house.
They both look to the door nervously, and then I see the resemblance. They’re brothers.
“You, face the wall, right up to it. I want your nose, chest, and hips making contact with your hands behind your back.”
“Please don’t kill us,” the younger one says as he does exactly what I instructed.
“Nobody’s killing anyone if we get the information we need.” I let the strap over my shoulder take the weight of the weapon as I tie up his hands. “Now sit on the bed, both of you.”
“I told you this was all fucked up,” the older one says to the other.
King walks into the room. “Seven of them,” he says.
“Let’s keep them separate. See how much each one says, and then we can compare to see if we’re getting truth or lies.”
King grabs the person I believe is the younger brother. “I’ll take this one.”
Which means I’m left with the older one. An idea forms in my mind. “This was all your brother’s idea? Joining the Righteous Brotherhood?”
From his spot on the edge of the bed, he looks at the open door his brother just went through. “He thought he’d found this amazing organization. I thought it was a cult.”
I shrug my shoulders. “Probably is. Part cult, part wannabe revolutionaries, part cosplay soldiers. You think it sucks so much, why are you here?”
He shakes his head. “You have a brother?”
I think about the reason I’m here. “Of a fashion.”
“Then you know you’d do pretty much anything to keep them out of trouble.”
“Not all brothers,” I say.
“Fuck, are you going to kill us?”
“How old are you, kid?”
“Seventeen. River is sixteen.”
They remind me of new recruits to the military. Too fucking young. All fresh-faced and optimistic. Until they have their will kicked out of them.
I rub a hand across my jaw. “What do you know about the Righteous Brotherhood?”
“That they sit around and eat pizza all day and talk about the New Order running the country and shit. Taking back America by taking back control of the government. River drinks that shit in.”
“And you?”
“It’s a roof over our head.”
I push down the urge to give this kid cash to get the fuck out of here. “You know that’s what they play on. The disenfranchised who want a better life and respond to the rhetoric that anyone not white is going to take away jobs and liberties.”
“Says the guy in a motorcycle club gang.”
I huff at that one. “Touché, kid. Maybe the difference is we’re willing to work for a better life, claim it on our own terms. Maybe we don’t put down people who are different to us. Maybe we’re accepting and inclusive. You’re on the wrong side of fucking history with this shit. You know they traffic girls?”
King walks into the room. “River knows nothing. Started fucking crying as soon as I asked him a question.”
The kid stands. “You didn’t hurt him, did you?”
King just looks at him, then walks out.
“What’s your name?” I ask.
“Jax.”
“No shit,” I say, but don’t tell him why. I came in here expecting to kill someone tonight, but I don’t see my enemy in Jax’s face. Just a troubled kid who saw no better options.
I take the roll of cash I always carry out of my pocket and peel off five hundred-dollar bills. “Stay here tonight. Maybe a few more days so they don’t think you told us shit and ran. Then use this to figure out some better options, kid.”
I put the cash on the bed, then grab my knife. Jax’s eyes go wide.
“Relax, I’m just cutting your hands free.”
His shoulders relax as I slice the cable ties. “Thank you.”
“Yeah, well, don’t let me down. Get the fuck out of here in a couple of days. Say it’s not for you.” I head to the door.
“Wait. There’s one thing. Probably not even relevant. But three of the older guys were talking last night about them taking back the docks.”
“Do you know when or how?”
Jax shakes his head as he folds up the cash. “Just that they’d heard it was the plan. Does that help?”
“Sure. Thanks, kid.” It doesn’t. At all. “Anything else?”
“They were just badmouthing the leader. Ben. Bill. Bradley…Bradley Collins. Shit about how he’s changing the vision of the organization.”
“In what way?”
“I don’t know. I tuned them out when they started talking about how it’s not even his real name. It felt like such a conspiracist thing to say.”
“Which man was it?”
“Baker.” He points to the room next door. “He’s full of shit though.”
And I barely hear what he says as I storm out of the door.