CHAPTER 32 IRON JACK
IRON JACK
Ican’t take my eyes off the screen. The Wild Hair are about to fight on my behalf, and I’m not even there. Damn it.
Grey Beast is mostly quiet now that we’re heading for the club faceoff. Greta finishes tending my hands and heads over to help with his face, which is so crusted over with dried blood that it resists easy cleanup.
“You look worse than I do,” I tell him.
“You started off worse than me,” he fires off.
“You are both big brutes,” Greta says. “Now hush and let me get you respectable before we arrive at the next fight.” She turns to me and Jax. “What’s happening?”
“It’s a good old-fashioned standoff,” Jax says. “No shots have been fired yet.”
She nods, closing the first-aid kit. “Maybe they’ll just yell at each other.”
“They’re trading insults,” I say. “But while Stoney distracts Anarchy, he’s got half the Wild Hair in the trees flanking the Kin.” He nods at the screen. “It’s a good strategy. He’s got this.”
“Is Merrick there?” She stands beside the table, her voice breaking. I pull her back onto my lap.
Jax scrolls across the video feed. Names pop up over parts of the screen.
Not everyone is identified, but Merrick Packwood shows up on the list. Jax clicks on it, and the image zooms on a man in the trees.
“Merrick’s on the edge of the woods. It appears his gun is aimed at a fellow named Andrew Sage. ”
I let out a long slow breath. “That’s Anarchy, their president. I should have popped his cork when I had the chance.”
Suddenly, everyone is running. Wild Hair toward Kin. Kin dashing to hide.
The three of us watch. Flashbangs appear as blinking lights. No one has gone down yet. I tighten my grip on Greta’s waist. I can’t do anything from here. “When will we get there?”
Jax consults his watch. “Slightly less than half an hour.”
“Jax,” I say. “When you drop me off with my men, can you make sure Greta gets home?”
“Of course,” Jax says. “What will you do with Anarchy if he survives this encounter?”
“Avenge my parents,” I say simply. “Or die trying.”
“Iron Jack!” Greta cries. “You can’t! I won’t let you.”
I shake my head. “An ol’ lady can’t get in the way of her man’s decisions.”
“I am not your ol’ lady!” She slams her fist on the table. “That is the most sexist, 1950s bullshit rhetoric I ever heard!”
I squeeze her hand. “Greta, this is how it has to be.” I can’t look at her. It’s painful. “Jax will take you and Grey Beast back to civilization.”
“Like hell you will,” Grey Beast says. “I’m itching for a real fight. No cage. No refs. Real stakes.”
“I attacked you when there was no call for it,” I say.
“Ahh, a bit of sparring with a proper partner is good for me,” Grey Beast says. “Haven’t had a real fist on my face in a long time.” He smacks his hands together again. “Let’s fuck them up.”
“They’ve got guns,” Jax says. “You shouldn’t go in unarmed.”
“My club is armed,” I say. “We’ll be fine.”
“Give him that black thing,” Greta says. “That’ll take them down.”
Jax frowns. “I think I’ve already intervened enough here.
” He stares at the tablet. “We Vigilantes bring about justice when ordinary means fail. We monitor and shift the odds when necessary. But I see two factions in a fair fight. No innocents among them. Everyone knew what they signed up for. I’m willing to deliver Iron Jack, to correct a misconception.
” He winks at me. “But it will be up to him to win the day. A hollow victory is no victory at all.”
The jet begins its descent.
“Time to transfer to another helicopter,” Jax says. “I’ll be piloting since this is short notice. We’ll set down right in the middle of the action. It will be quite the spectacle, I’m sure.” He tucks the tablet into a sleeve.
The jet touches down on another private airstrip, and the four of us race to the waiting helicopter.
We’re barely in the air when I recognize the highway, the businesses, and our neck of the Everglades. We’re coming in from the east.
“You ready for this?” I ask Grey Beast.
“Hell yeah.” He’s pumped, it’s clear, practically salivating at the notion of a fight. “Let’s fuck them up.”
Greta sits in a taut little package, careful not to brush against me, staring at her lap. She’s upset.
But I can’t comfort her. This situation might resolve, but there will always be another, then another, and another. She and her son don’t need to be anywhere near it.
The helicopter slows as we approach the Kin’s half-burned property. I peer down. Everyone is looking up at us. I search for anyone who might be hurt. I don’t see any wounded on the ground.
The trees whip as we descend, and everyone scatters. I eyeball Stoney and Fancy and Merrick and Hoss. Chain’s truck is parked past the mouth of the long drive in the forest, blocking any vehicle larger than a bike from leaving.
“Beast,” I say. “That truck has all the Wild Hair munitions. Tell Chain, who will be guarding it, that you’re coming in clutch for Steel. He’ll hand you a weapon.”
Grey Beast nods. “What are you going to do?”
I pull my blade from the sheath. “I’m going to bring down some Anarchy.” I turn to Jax. “I appreciate the ride. Take care of my girl.” I don’t look at Greta. I can’t. I might not even leave the chopper if I do. There will be no goodbye, no lingering kiss.
Instead, I twist the handle to the door, and with a mighty cry that is echoed by Grey Beast behind me, I leap from the chopper to end this for once and for all.