Chapter 27 #2
"Which means we need to call every single family member in the area," Lock added, "and give them a head's up that they need to watch themselves."
"In the meantime," Butcher said, "what do we do about this place?"
"I have a guy," Cynic offered.
Toxic looked over at his cousin in shock and confusion. "What do you mean, you have a guy?"
"A friend," Cynic replied with a shrug. "I bet he'd be willing to help us."
"Since when do you know someone I don't know?" Toxic asked. "Since when do you have friends?"
Cynic rolled his eyes. "I have friends, too, Toxic."
"Bullshit."
"Toxic," Lock barked. "Jesus."
"Fine," Toxic muttered. "Who's your guy?"
"He's a friend," Cynic repeated, ignoring his cousin's taunting. "He's in a motorcycle club over in Phoenix. Storm Bringers MC?" Cynic looked around. "Heard of 'em?"
Lock and Cypher both shook their heads.
"Ah well, Kilo's a good guy. Kinda the same set up as we all have. Former military, mostly vigilante group. I bet they'd be willing to help. Kilo and I helped each other out on my last deployment."
"What do you think?" Lock asked Cypher.
Cypher shrugged. "Their president could tell us to fucking pound sand. He may not want to get dragged into this kind of war. Not for men he doesn't know."
"Ruck's cool," Cynic piped up. "I bet he wouldn't hesitate to help us out. Since we're all brothers after all."
Even though the majority of us were retired, or otherwise employed in the case of the Berserker’s Rage guys, we all belonged to one large brotherhood—the military.
"Doesn't hurt to ask," Lock said with a sigh.
"Want me to call?" Cynic asked, looking between the men.
Lock and Cypher shared a look, then nodded together.
Cynic pulled his cell out of his pocket and hit a number. He put the phone on speaker and we all waited as it rang.
"Hey, yo, Cynic!" a man said as he answered. "Haven't heard from you in a minute, Brother. How you doing?"
Cynic chuckled. "I'm good, Kilo. You?"
"Shit. You know how it is. Living the dream."
Cynic grinned. "Yeah, I know all about that. Listen, I'm down here in Tucson-"
"No way. We need to get together, Brother."
"That's actually why I'm calling. My club is down here helping some friends. They're having a bit of trouble with a corrupt district attorney."
There was silence on the other end of the line for a few breaths. "Tell me more, Man."
Lock nodded and Cynic gave him a quick rundown. "Now we've got this prick threatening women and children associated with the club and not enough men to watch over them. My prez and theirs were hoping maybe we could get a little back up?"
"How about this? Ruck and I will come over and meet with you guys."
"You sure he'd be alright with that?"
There was a snort on the other end of the line. "You know Ruck. All I have to do is tell him some fuck face is threatening women and kids and he's there."
Cynic let out a relieved breath. "Thanks, Kilo. Seriously, we'd appreciate that. All this shit is popping off now. How long before you think you could make it over?"
"Tomorrow work for you?"
"It does," Lockout answered. "I'm the president of The Viking’s Rampage, Tucson Chapter. I'm damn appreciative that your club is even willing to hear us out."
"Nice to meet you, Prez," Kilo said. "We're all one big family, even if our clubs don't know each other yet. Something tells me that's going to change in a hurry. We'll ride down tomorrow, be there around eleven."
"See you then," Cynic said. "I'll have a cold one waiting." He cut the connection and shot his cousin a shit-eating grin. "Told you I had friends."
"Luckily for us they aren't imaginary," Toxic muttered.
"Priest, can you get us a rotation of men over here? No less than three at a time until we get this all figured out?" Lock requested.
"Yeah, I'm on it, Lock."
"That means we're going to have to sit on our fucking hands for a few more days," Lock told us. "We're going to be spread too thin to go after the next place that Fremont's using. But I'm not fucking leaving any of our people vulnerable."
"I can make the phone calls," Rip offered. "To the families. Just get me lists of whoever needs to be warned."
"Thanks," Lock told him.
"Everyone needs to keep their fucking head on a swivel. With Fremont joining this game, it's going to get ugly before the end. I don't want to lose anyone because they made a goddamn mistake. Got it?"
"Got it," we echoed.
"I'll take first watch," Priest said.
"I'll stay with you," Idaho told him.
"Me too," Butcher growled. "I'm sort of hoping those assholes come back."
I grinned over at Butcher. He was itching for a fight.
Or more likely a mass casualty event. You could see it building each day.
He was getting more and more tense. He was going to explode soon, and I almost felt fucking sorry for Fremont and his crew because they were going to be the target of his fury.
In reality, we needed to end this before he got to that point.
Half a police force and a DA getting killed wasn't going to be as easy to walk away from as one dead cop.
It didn't matter that I'd killed Hughes in self-defense, if it came to light, I was fucking finished.
My career would be over. I'd be lucky if I still didn't end up doing time.
The fact that I was betting on Fremont cleaning up that particular mess didn't sit well with me, but I didn't have the ability to do it myself.
I wasn't above using Fremont's desperation for my own ends.
Especially not when Hughes had been the one to throw the first fucking punch.
Those other assholes with him had waited for his cue.
He was directly responsible for his own damn demise.
They'd assumed because I wore a suit, and that they outnumbered me five to one, they could easily kill me.
I'd proved them wrong. But it was another nail in our coffin if this didn't play out exactly the way we needed it to.