32. Vandal
VANDAL
The meeting takes place twenty miles outside the town at a derelict airboat marina that looks like it probably collapsed sometime during the Reagan administration.
Half the docks are missing boards. The bait shop is nailed shut with a faded sign above the door. And some young punk has spray-painted FUCK OFF across one of the storage sheds. The message seems appropriate, given who we’re gonna meet here.
The location was selected by us because Rizzo, a biker who left the club in good standing because of health issues, lives in one of the few homes nearby and was able to keep an eye on the location until we got here for signs of any setups.
I kill the engine and climb off my bike, as do my brothers. Cristian is about five minutes away, hidden off the main road in a van guarded by Lock and Reaper.
No one is expecting a pleasant afternoon. For the first time in my life, I’m wearing protection beneath my shirt. A slimline vest that I felt I owed Daisy and Elsie. And as soon as my feet hit the ground, I slide my fingers into knuckle dusters that have vicious spikes on them.
The air smells like salt water and sunbaked wood, and a gull screams overhead. It’s like the place has been suspended in time. There’s a power to feeling like it’s your turf rather than theirs, and I stand tall to ground myself.
Knox stands beside me, his hands loose at his sides. “You remember the rules?”
“Don’t speak. Don’t move.”
Knox nods.
“I assume killing anyone is also out of the question then.”
Havoc catches the end of my sentence and laughs. “Only if you get caught.”
Then the SUVs arrive. Three of them. Each one black and tinted and expensive enough that they look ridiculous against the backdrop of rust and decay.
The doors open and men climb out. Some of them I recognize. I manage to hold myself together until the asshole with the snake tattoo steps out to open the passenger door. His face is attached to one of the men who broke me, to every nightmare I’ve had since.
But he’s not as intimidating as I remember. Sure, he’s a big fuck. But I guess lying in a wreck on the road, he felt…taller. Stronger, even.
Now, I’m not sure that he is. I feel like one-on-one, I could take him down.
Alvarez steps out of the SUV in a suit that probably costs more than my mortgage.
He smoothes down the trousers to make sure the pant legs sit over his shoes properly.
And when he finally looks up, he glances at Knox and then me.
His gaze holds for a fraction of a second on my face. The scars. My eye.
He clearly remembers me, but nothing changes in his expression. I’m no mind reader, so I can’t guess what he’s thinking. But a small piece of me hopes it’s something along the lines of Holy fuck he’s still here.
“Where’s Cristian?” Alvarez asks when he and his men walk over to us.
“Safe,” Knox says. “For now.”
“You better have treated him well,” Alvarez says.
Knox looks my way. “As well as you treated my man.”
A muscle twitches in Alvarez’s cheek. It’s small. Tiny even. But it’s a tell. Alvarez is not as composed as he might seem.
“What do you want?” Alvarez asks.
“I want to end this fucking war you started,” Knox says.
My eyes drift to the man with the tattoos. He’s staring at me, his gaze mocking. I force myself to remember Knox’s words. Don’t speak. Don’t move.
But the need to get even pulses through my veins with every heartbeat.
“Listen,” Knox continues. “You didn’t know anything about us until you started looking for Jonathan Paltrow.
And you joined dots that weren’t meant to be joined.
We won’t take responsibility for a man we ejected from our organization years ago.
And in doing so, you started a fight with us that wasn’t ours to fight.
So my question to you is, how long is it gonna take before you fucking realize that and go back to Miami? ”
“You stole my shipment,” Alvarez says.
Knox huffs. “And now you just sound like a pouting child. We stole your shipment to prove to you we could after you pointed a missile launcher at our clubhouse.”
Alvarez looks at me. “I don’t think your men want peace.”
Knox looks over to me and finds me staring at Alvarez.
“You’re right. They think we should blow you fucks up where you stand.
You hurt one of my men, you raided our clubhouse, leaving us with people hurt and injured, you stole one of our shipments, and you tried to worm your way inside my clubhouse using your nephew.
They think I should bury your ass because all you’ve shown us so far is some really fucking poor choices.
How many men are you going to allow to get hurt or injured to soothe your ego? ”
“Go fuck yourself, Grandad,” the guy with the snake tattoo says.
“What’s your name?” I ask.
“Why?” Of course he matches a question with a question.
“Because I’m fed up with mentally calling you asshole,” I reply.
Knox puts his hand out, but I look down at my feet. “Haven’t moved, Prez.”
The corner of Knox’s lip twitches.
“Fuck you,” the guy says.
“Okay, Fuck-You, bad-mouth my president again, and I’ll kill you.”
A lot of hands move for a lot of weapons. But Alvarez has the good sense to put out his hand like Knox did to encourage his men to step down.
“We hacked your network,” Knox says.
We did?
“You did?” Alvarez asks.
Knox nods. “Cristian’s phone. You got some reckless people, and we’ve got some badass technical guys. I have enough evidence to put you and your business away for decades.”
Fuck-You moves forward. So do I.
“What are you proposing?” Alvarez asks, his face resigned.
“A permanent truce,” Knox says. “I don’t see you in my town, plus or minus a hundred clicks up and down the coast. I won’t bring any business to Miami.
But you do one thing to harm my club…steal a shipment, beat one of my men, wear a cut and patches you never fucking earned…
I’ll release all that data. And know it doesn’t sit here in my clubhouse or even in this state.
It’s long gone to places you will never find it.
And there are four copies, with clear instructions of what to do with it if there’s ever an attack on my club.
So, you agree to stop this, and I tell you where Cristian is. ”
Alvarez shakes his head. “I want him brought here.”
Knox laughs. “So you can carry out some plan to kill us once you have him? You must think this is my first rodeo. No, we’ll ride out of here, then I’ll text you where you can find Cristian.”
But Alvarez clearly hasn’t had the same conversation with his men that Knox had with us. And snake guy launches at Knox. “Tell me where my son is!”
“The fucking irony he’s your son,” I say. “Because I hurt him.”
“What?” Color drains from his face.
“Not like you hurt me. He’ll not be permanently injured or scarred. But if you or any of your family come anywhere near mine again, I will have no mercy, and my judgement will be swift.”
Knox steps forward. “And fuck us around as we leave, and I’ll make sure that happens today.”
But snake guy is clearly a bad listener, because he lunges and has his hands around Knox’s neck before any of us can do anything about it. And the guy has a grip so strong, Knox’s tongue slips out, his face beet red, as he grips the guy’s wrists.
Knox’s boots scrape against the gravel as the guy pushes him backward.
And then I detonate.
I charge him and hit him hard enough in the ribs with my knuckle duster that I swear I hear a rib crack.
With a gasp, he lets go of Knox as I gain momentum and he stumbles back.
He hits the SUV so hard, it leaves a dent in the front quarter panel.
The metal caves with a hollow, expensive crunch as he slumps to the floor.
Behind me, Havoc slams into another of Alvarez’s men, and I see the flash of a blade.
“Fucking…pussy,” Havoc says. “Crying like a baby.”
Snake guy swings wildly, and I release him enough that his fist glances off my shoulder rather than any already broken part of my skull.
“Now it’s your turn,” I say. “Because there’s nothing you can do to me that I can’t or won’t come back from. Let’s see how you do.”
I grab his shirt, raise my hand, and punch, the spike on the knuckle duster cutting through skin, damaging bone.
Somewhere behind me, someone screams. I don’t know who it is. For a second, I struggle to make sense of what I’m seeing as more men pour out of the back of the SUVs, dragging guns and knives.
Gravel sprays beneath boots. The quiet marina is filled with the ugly sound of fighting. Snake guy is bleeding badly, the fight ebbing out of his body as he disappears into shock. Blood runs down his side, over my knuckle duster and forearm.
Arms come around my shoulders hard and tight, and I’m about to fight them off when I realize it’s Knox.
And a gunshot is fired into the air.
Just a single one.
Knox tugs me off the man on the floor. He’s slumped down. Definitely still conscious, but only just. Knox is breathing rough through a throat that will probably be bruised by morning.
“Enough,” shouts Alvarez.
I don’t move at first. Snake guy makes a wet sound, a gurgle. And Knox tightens his fist in the leather of my cut, as if he knows how badly I want to stamp this motherfucker’s lights out permanently.
“Easy now, Van,” Knox says.
And I turn to see that Sunny has his gun pressed to Alvarez’s skull.
The lot falls silent.
“Tell all your men to leave,” Knox says as Ridge and North move around to flank Sunny. “I don’t care how many people need to cram into two of those SUVs.”
“You heard the man,” Alvarez says.
I flex my bloodstained fingers, stretching out the ache, while we watch as they obey. It’s almost comical, watching them contort and basically sit on each other’s knees.
I look down at snake guy as he tries to use the SUV to stand. I kick him in the back of the knee, so he drops to the ground again. His face is a mess. “You’re gonna crawl, motherfucker.”
He looks up at me as if he’s going to fight. But then he thinks better of it and crawls to the passenger seat.
I guess his seniority means he gets to sit by himself. Cristian isn’t like his father in that he didn’t hurt me directly like his father did. I actually have flashes of regret at breaking his fingers. But I have no such feelings about breaking his father’s face and ribs.
“Just get it over with,” Alvarez says, dropping to his knees.
But Knox makes him wait a few minutes, stretching out the agony and humiliation until finally crouching in front of him.
“I’m not gonna kill you. Not today. I’ll tell you where Cristian is, and you can go get him in that SUV.
But remember our deal. You come anywhere near me, any of my club, or their families, and two things will happen: First, we will ruin your organization.
And two, we will kill whoever comes. This is my last act of generosity. So, say, ‘Thank you, Knox’.”
Alvarez looks up. For a long second, I think he’s going to refuse, that he’d rather die than say those words out loud. But then his shoulders sag a fraction. “Thank you, Knox.”
The words don’t come easy. In fact, his teeth were so clenched as he spoke, I thought he might break his own jaw.
“I got one last ask,” I say.
Alvarez looks my way. “Let me guess. Retaliation.”
I shake my head. “Daisy and Elsie are mine now. Cristian will tell you he saw them. They’re included in the deal and are protected. You take a step near them, and I’ll kill you.”
Alvarez looks to Knox. “Why don’t you just kill me now?”
Knox rubs a hand over his chin. “Considered it. But there’s a lot of you.
That’s a lot of bodies to hide. And where does it stop?
You hurt one of my men, so I hurt one of yours.
I steal one of your shipments, so you steal one of mine.
You launch a missile into my clubhouse; the national chapter of my club will come down here and kill every single person you love.
Someone has got to stop the violence, and you don’t have the maturity or leadership to know when you’re beat. ”
Alvarez offers Knox his hand. “I agree to all of it.”