Chapter Fourteen
Grayson
Grayson knelt beside the bottle filled with gasoline, watching as Richard stuffed the rag in the neck of the bottle. It was cold as balls, and he longed for his bed and his current bed partner, but first, they had to continue this assault on the Horsemen.
“You know, my old man taught me how to do this,” Richard remarked as he shoved the rag down into the bottle, leaving enough out to light. “Between beating the hell out of me, he wasn’t a bad sort.”
Grayson nodded, feeling the same about his old man. Charles Barnes had been a drunkard and a deadbeat, only happy when he was wailing his fists on his wife and kids. The day he got into the fight he couldn’t win had been the best day of Grayson’s life.
“Mine taught me how to shoot first and ask questions later.”
“A good mantra,” Richard chuckled, setting the bottle on the ground gently next to the others. “I guess we got something in common then.”
Grayson frowned inwardly. He was nothing like the asshole in front of him, but he wasn’t about to blow this ‘partnership’ by letting him know that. He hated the white neo-Nazi shit that Richard spouted out of his mouth, preferring to see a man in front of him instead of the color of their skin.
But then again, Richard had amassed quite a following with his beliefs. That was the only reason Grayson was still hanging around with the Brotherhood. He had a wealth of people and guns to fight the Horsemen, and without them he would be shit up the creek.
Especially with Grant’s bullseye on his back.
“You ready?” Richard asked, picking up a few of the bottles.
Grayson straightened, feeling the ache in his back from stooping over. He was getting old and had hoped that Eric would have shown his colors and taken over where he had started.
But the jury was still out on what his son could do and how far he was willing to go to prove a point. Just like tonight. He had texted his son about coming to help out, and the last time he had checked he hadn’t responded.
Either Eric was with him or against him, and Grayson was going to have to figure it out soon.
“Yeah,” he finally said, realizing Richard was staring at him. “Let’s do this shit.”
Richard grinned and handed him the bottles, pulling out his lighter to light the ends. Quickly, Grayson threw them at the windows of the auto shop, watching as the gasoline caught fire and exploded on the inside of the shop.
The auto shop was a front for many things for the Horsemen, from a trading post to a body shop for the bikes, and its loss would be felt just as badly as the clubhouse had.
They were smoking them out, one fire at a time.
“Woo wee,” Richard whistled as Grayson threw the remaining bottles at the windows. “That’s a pretty sight there.”
Grayson wiped his hands on his jeans as he stood back, watching as the flames licked out of the building and into the night sky.
Fire had always scared him as a kid, and as he watched the flames, he felt a shiver of fear for what was to come for him and his plans. There was going to be a time, very soon, when he would be facing down Grant Travis, and one of them would not walk away.
He just hoped that it didn’t end in his death.