17. Smitty
SMITTY
The clubhouse had a life of its own. The country music spilling from the bar was its pulse, the brothers’ laughter was its breath, and the bond between the men inside was the blood running through its veins.
Our job wasn’t just to keep it alive, but to keep it thriving.
We did pretty good on the day-to-day, but there were times like these when it took all of us working together to keep the club, and each other, standing.
And that was exactly what we were doing.
Grim was working over the guy they’d brought in from Shep’s latest hunt for straggling Coyotes. Creed, Memphis, and several of the others were out looking for Raymond, and the rest were either making calls with Prez or at the Vault, prepping for the day ahead.
And I was looking for the place where I was the most needed. I’d just gotten back from dropping off Brooke and was making my way into the bar. As soon as I stepped inside, I spotted Goose. “Figured you’d be with Memphis or Creed.”
“Figured you’d still be with Brooke.”
“It was a long night. She needed some rest.”
“I bet she did.”
“Easy now.”
“So, how’re things going with you two?”
“Better than I deserve.”
“Doubt that.” He crossed his arms and smirked. “Heard you got yourself a little girl.”
“I do, and man, she’s really something.”
“I bet she is.” His smirk grew. “Takes after her ol’ man.”
“Don’t know about all that.”
“But you guys are good?”
“Getting there.”
“Good. Glad to hear it. You’ll have to fill me in more later. I’ve gotta get to the Vault.” He pulled his keys from his pocket. “You heading over?”
“I was gonna check with Prez first and see where he needs me.”
“He and Creed are probably with Grim. He’s been out in the playroom since early this morning.”
I didn’t have to ask why. I knew Grim well enough to know that he was already working on the guy Shep had helped them track down, and it wouldn’t be long before he got the guy talking.
Talking.
That was one word for it.
As a prospect, I’d not only dealt with remains, but I’d hosed enough blood off his playroom floors to know exactly what happened when Grim was working someone over.
He didn't stop because someone screamed.
He didn't stop because they begged or passed out.
He only stopped when he got the information he wanted.
And I mean everything.
Goose must’ve recognized the expression on my face because he scoffed, “He’s messy, but he’s good.”
“That he is.”
Goose gave me a nod, then headed for the door. “I’ll see ya when I see ya. Until then, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
The door closed before I could respond, and silence settled over me in a way that made the hairs on the back of my neck prickle against my skin.
Somewhere down the hall, I heard a dull thud, and then another and another.
Seconds later, Grim came barreling out of the hallway like a bull ready to lead the stampede.
His eyes met mine as he asked, “You seen Prez or Creed?”
“Afraid not.” I stepped toward him. “Just got back from dropping off Brooke, and I haven’t seen anyone but Goose. He just headed over to the Vault… When I asked, he said he figured Prez was with you.”
“Son of a bitch.” Grim dragged his hand through his hair before fishing his phone out of his back pocket. “Been trying to reach them, but nobody’s answering.”
He dialed the number again, then put the phone to his ear. After a few seconds, he grumbled something under his breath and shoved his phone back in his pocket. He motioned for me to follow as he started out of the bar. That’s when I asked, “What’s going on?”
“Need to find Shep.”
I fell into step behind him, trying my best to match his long, angry stride as he started down the hall. I didn’t say anything. I just waited silently for him to finally announce, “We got the wrong guy.”
I stopped in my tracks as I asked, “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“The kid they brought in.” Grim stopped and looked back at me. “He’s not the Coyote… It was his father.”
“Damn.”
“Yeah, the kid’s barely eighteen.” He shook his head. “And he don’t know shit about anything.”
“How the hell did that happen?”
“They’ve got the same damn name.” He let out a slow, aggravated breath before continuing down the hall.
I followed and listened as he told me, “Didn’t help that the kid was wearing a hat and had a beard thicker than half the club.
And he’s a thick ol’ boy. Made him look a good ten… fifteen years older.”
“Aw, shit.”
“Yeah. I don’t do kids, man.”
“I get it.” Grim took his job seriously, and that meant stepping out of line now and then. But there were certainly lines he wouldn’t cross, and that included torturing women or kids. When we rounded the corner, I asked, “What about his ol’ man? Did he tell you anything that might help us?”
“Said he’d patched into the Coyotes a few years back.”
“So he’s one of ‘em.”
“Yeah, but I’m not sure if the guy’s still around.” He stopped at Prez’s door as he told me, “Kid hasn’t seen him in weeks, maybe even months.”
I thought back, and it didn’t take long to put two and two together. If it had been months, there was a good chance he was there when we burned down their clubhouse and warehouse. “So, what made Shep think he was still alive?”
“The kid’s been using his ol’ man’s credit card to get food and shit.”
“So, we’re right back where we started?”
The words tasted bitter as I said them, but the fact that they were true made it that much harder to swallow. We had no answers, no leads, and it was only a matter of time before there was another strike against us. Grim shook his head and said, “Afraid so.”
He pushed Prez’s office door open and disappeared inside.
The door clicked shut behind him, and I stood there alone in the hallway, staring down at the worn, wooden floor.
Even though I trusted the brothers to handle things, I couldn’t help but think that we’d lost ground instead of gained it.
One lead turned out to be some dumb kid, and the other was off hiding from the cops and DCS.
I was still hanging out in the hallway when Prez and Grim came out of the office and announced, “Conference room. Now.”
I followed them down the hall, and by the time we were seated, Shep came rolling in with Creed and Rusty. Prez remained standing. “We’ve got a problem.”
He went on to tell the others everything Grim had told me. As soon as he was done, Shep ran his hand across the back of his neck and let out a slow breath. “Sorry, Prez. That shit was totally on me.”
“Easy mistake to make,” Prez replied, trying to reassure him. “Hell, they got the same damn name and look like they should be brothers, not father and son.”
“Doesn’t matter. I should’ve caught it.”
“What’s done is done. We’ve gotta let it go and move forward.”
“And how the hell are we supposed to do that?” Creed asked. “We’ve got no word on this Raymond asshole, and for all we know, he’s gone underground, and we may never find his ass.”
“We’ll find him,” Shep answered confidently. “Don’t worry about that.”
“Yes, we will.” Prez gave him a nod. “And on another positive note, I spoke with Maverick… They’ve dealt with things there, and the Coyotes have been cleared out of Washington.”
“That’s good news.”
“Got more… Heard from Stone earlier this morning, and Kansas is clear, too. Same with Gus and the Memphis chapter.”
One by one, every Fury chapter that had been dealing with bullshit from the Coyotes had put them in the ground or run them out of town.
Everyone except us.
Prez didn’t have to say it. We were all thinking it, and the silence around the table confirmed it. Creed finally said, “Time for us to do the same.”
“And we will, but first, we’ve gotta figure out who’s behind all this shit. Otherwise, we’ll just be chasing our own damn tail and not get anywhere.”
“What about this Raymond guy who took all the pictures?” Rusty asked. “Any chance he’s behind it all?”
“There’s always a chance.”
“But we won’t know until we find him.”
Rusty sounded surprised when he asked, “Still no luck finding him?”
“We’re working every lead we got,” Shep answered. “Memphis and Ghost searched the house, went to his work, and even checked some of the bars where he spends most of his paycheck. No sign of him.”
I thought about the kid sitting in the back room. He was probably shaking in his damn boots, but he might just be the answer to our problem. “What about the Benson kid?”
“What about him?”
“If his old man was a Coyote, he ought to know who he used to run with.” I shrugged. “Maybe he could tell us if this Raymond fella is just some asshole with a Fury fetish or if there’s a reason he’s been collecting intel on us.”
The thought sat heavy on my chest. The kid had been dragged into our mess because of a mix-up with his damn name, and now, I was offering him up like he might be the answer. I didn’t like it, but it might be worth trying.
The room fell quiet, and I figured they all had the same thought.
Maybe it was too much.
And then, Prez looked to Creed, and he gave him a subtle nod. Prez then turned his attention back to me and said, “Smart thinking, brother.”
“He might not know shit.”
“But if he does…” Prez turned his attention to Grim. “Take him a picture of Raymond and see what he knows.”
“I don’t know, Preach. I got him pretty rattled. You might wanna let someone else give it a go.”
“Who you got in mind?”
Grim turned to me, and I immediately shook my head. “Aw, hell no. I ain’t whooping up on no kid.”
“Just need you to talk to him, Smit. Not whoop up on him,” Grim chuckled. “Besides, you might get somewhere with him… You’re younger and less threatening.”
“That’s not exactly a compliment, brother.”
“Doesn’t make it any less true.”
“He’s right,” Prez agreed. “You could give a different take on this whole thing and get him to talking… Maybe even convince him that we can make this whole thing worth his while.”