Chapter 46
Sarge
Rise and shine fuck-face.
Every man in the club sits before me, all up to speed on what I learned below the clubhouse. The Nogales chapter has been contacted and properly filled in as well. They’re on standby if something changes.
Gizmo was able to get the location for the house Booker was talking about.
We’ve been researching every inch of it from the satellite aerial view on his laptop.
My military background makes me want to go in hot, kill every motherfucker inside, and burn the place to the ground once we get Hannah out.
But I know we need to be careful about this.
While I want my woman back, I know I’m too invested to make a sound plan right now.
“I’m open to any ideas you guys have,” I tell the room. “But we need to move fast.”
Ace speaks up first. “Well, we’ve got the fucker’s phone. Why don’t we act like him?”
Immediately, I hate the idea.
“You suggesting we pose as Booker with the illusion he’s coming in as a customer?” Bear asks.
“I am,” Ace responds, looking directly at me. “Listen, I know it’s shitty. But I think it may be the best way to get in there without raising any alarms.”
Fuck, he might be right. From the sounds of it, Booker is a repeat customer. That makes him the least suspicious person to impersonate.
Shaking my head, I let out a heavy sigh. “Giz, do it. Set it up.”
I trudge to the bar and pour myself a heavy shot.
I hate the idea of ever making myself or the club look interested in a place like that, but I know it’s for the right reasons.
Besides, they won’t know it’s us until it’s far too late for them.
I toss the shot back, letting it warm me from the inside out, knowing I need to pay Booker another visit.
My shot glass slams against the counter, the sound turning every head in my direction.
“I have to go ask that shit-head exactly how we get into this place. Ace, with me.” I’m already making my way down the steps before I’m finished speaking, knowing Ace is on my six.
Reaching the landing, I see Booker looks to be asleep, and Scarlett is sitting on the floor with her knees pulled up in the far corner.
“Rise and shine, fuck-face. Nap time’s over.” I bellow the words loud enough to startle him awake.
“W-what are you going to do?” Scarlett asks, but I ignore her.
“Tell me how I get into this ‘Body Shop’?” I ask, standing over Booker’s bloodied face.
Booker squints as he looks up at me, the lights shining bright above us. “You have to be referred by someone they trust. It’s the only way in.” He groans out.
“Alright, so we text from your phone and set up the meet. Then what?”
He huffs out an emotionless laugh. “It’s not that easy. The person who referred you has to go, too. That way, they know you’re the client and not a setup or some rando who wandered up by chance.”
A flicker of something that looks like hope flashes across Booker’s face. “Wait. I could take you guys. They’d recognize you, Sarge, but this guy here could get in.” He lifts his chin toward Ace. “No tattoos or identifiable features that stand out too much.”
My gaze lands on Ace, who nods once to let me know he’s in.
“How did it go the first time you went?” I ask Booker.
“Well, I showed up with the person who referred me. They asked me a few questions, like how I heard about it, if I understood the pricing, and the rules. Stuff like that.” He shifts in his seat. “Hey, man, can I get up to use the bathroom?”
I unsheathe my Bowie knife and cut the rope from his wrists. “Clean yourself up while you’re at it. You look and smell like shit. There’s a full bathroom upstairs in the clubhouse, and we’ll get you a change of clothes.”
He moves slowly from the dentist chair, his body undoubtedly stiff.
“Don’t take forever. Clock is ticking.”
“C’mon, man, I’m going as quick as I can. My joints feel like they’re superglued together. Just give me a minute, and I’ll break them loose.”
My fist grips the collar of his shirt, and I pull him toward the stairs. “Let me help you.”
“Ah, shit. Okay, okay, I’m moving.” He groans as he climbs the steps.
We make it into the main room of the clubhouse, and all eyes are on us.
“The fuck is he doing up here?” Wolf asks, sounding rightfully pissed. No one wants this fucker around—or alive, for that matter.
Crimes against women or children are something we have zero tolerance for here. We see people who commit those kinds of horrific acts as lead-deficient, and we’re happy to give them a healthy dose, straight to the head.
“Ace, show him where the bathroom is and stand guard until he’s done. I don’t want him trying to make a run for it,” I say, before turning to address the many faces locked on me with a million questions.
Once Booker is out of earshot, I let everyone know there’s been a change of plans. We’ll need Booker with us to get in.
“Giz,” I say. “Send a text to the Body Shop contact. Let them know Booker has a new client for them and they’re eager to come by. Today.” My body shudders before I give the next instruction. “Tell them you want to set him up with the same bitch from last time. Make it sound convincing.”
The rising sun cuts through the clubhouse windows as dawn approaches. No one in this building has slept since yesterday, but we’re wired.
Every man knows his place; we’ve gone over the plan until it’s engraved into our minds. It’s Booker I’m worried most about, but he seems to have sobered up now. This has to go perfectly to minimize the bloodshed on our side.
“Hey, so, uh, since I’m helping you guys out, are we good after this is all over?” Booker rubs the back of his neck.
The question pisses me off. In my mind, a man who puts his hands on a woman, or anyone who can’t defend themselves, doesn’t deserve the air in his lungs. But if he’s the key to getting my Hannah back, I have to keep him breathing for now. We’ll figure the rest out later.
“Let’s get this over with first. We’ll talk after we’re back at the clubhouse,” I say. It’s the best I can give him without a vote from the table.
“Prez, we got a response.” Giz is rushing toward me, Booker’s phone held out like a lifeline.
I take a breath, the first full one since she was taken.
Without an easy way into that place, we’d be going in blind, and the odds of Hannah coming out safe would be shit.
Booker was so high last time he was there, he wouldn’t be able to point out the right door, and not knowing exactly where she is means we don’t know where not to shoot.
“The contact says Booker can bring his referral in two hours.” Giz looks at Ace, who’s changed his appearance by shaving his face, buzzing his hair, and is now dressed in street clothes. “You ready to roll?”
“Fuck yeah, I am. Let’s take these fuckers down,” he answers.
Everyone grabs their weapons, walkies, and some water for the drive. I double-check that my trauma kit is in the vehicle along with my rifle, plate carrier, towels, a blanket, and a few snacks. Not knowing Hannah’s condition is putting me on edge. I want to have everything she might need.
“Bear, make sure the doc knows where to wait for us.” While I hope no blood will be spilled, I know that’s wishful thinking.
Plus, Hannah may need immediate attention, and I want to make sure we can offer that.
“We don’t know how bad this is gonna get.
Tell him to bring the medical vehicle equipped with at least two nurses or capable assistants.
Hannah may not be the only woman in there who needs help, and I want us to be ready to offer it. ”
Everyone but Ace and Booker will ride in the club’s SUVs. We sent a prospect to pick up Booker’s truck from the bar, so the two of them could show up in a familiar vehicle. We don’t want to raise any suspicion if we can help it.
Our vehicles will drop us where the pavement ends, and we’ll hike the rest of the way—giving Booker time to get Ace in, and Ace time to get to Hannah.
“Everyone, double-check your ammo. Make sure you have more than enough to spare,” I tell my men, checking my own again.
I get nods all around. “We do. Enough and then some,” Klaw answers.
“Sarge,” Bear says, crossing the distance between us. “Got word from the Nogales chapter. They can meet us in under an hour. Since they’re closer than we are, they offered to get there first to scope it out. You comfortable with that?”
Shaking my head, I holster my pistol. “No. This is too close to home to let anyone else have first eyes on it. Tell them to wait at the end of the road in vehicles. No bikes.”
I don’t want to tip anyone off with loud pipes or a cluster of bikes meeting in the middle of nowhere. The SUVs are risky enough. We’ll need drivers for the drop-offs and pickups so the vehicles aren’t just sitting there, looking suspicious.
I’m thankful to have every one of my brothers on this run. We have no idea how many people are guarding that place, and I need every hand on deck.
We cannot fail.
“Thank you all for being here. For riding with me on this one,” I say. The words don’t feel like they carry the weight I want them to.
Wolf’s heavy hand claps down on my shoulder. “Don’t thank us until we get your girl back home.”
“Let’s fucking do this,” Bear says to the group as we stand outside the clubhouse.
I nod once, unable to find the words. We all pile into two black SUVs and begin the sixty-mile drive to my Butterfly.