Fury

“What in the fuck do you mean he rolled out?” Fury gritted his teeth and reminded himself for the hundredth time he was on video and couldn’t react the way he wanted, by rolling his eyes and staring at the ceiling while waiting on a response that made sense. “Rolled out where, exactly? You—and I know we had this conversation, Opie—were supposed to be keeping him locked down with escorts. What the fuck happened?”

“What happened is Spider’s a grown-ass man who decided he didn’t want a babysitter. And yeah, he figured that out about a day into it, so I should count myself lucky that he let us stroll along this long without bolting.” Opie pressed his palms flat to the table in front of the laptop camera, and Fury figured that was his version of suppressing an emotional reaction. “Not a one of us would have stood it this long, and you know it. Weeks and weeks since we got Juanita and Mela home, and nothing to point to that said he had fuck all to do with what Diamond did.”

“Nothing except the Florida boys who said they’d seen him and Diamond with Lalo, and you know how deep Lalo was with Deacon and Morgan. Deacon was Diamond’s old man, brother. Lalo an enemy.” Fury gestured to the side, knowing Chismoso was within range of the camera. “Chismoso recognized a picture of the man, which tells us all that he’d been around more than once. We needed to keep Spider locked down, and now he’s in the wind.” He shook his head. “So that means you need to find him, like yesterday. Jesus.” He turned from the camera, giving the people on the other end a view of his patch as he faced the group filling the back of the room. Mason is a fuck of a lot better at handling this shit. “Bear, get on the app and call Myron, tell him to join the call.” He ran through other members and officers in his head. “Gunny, call Bones and Tater.” He whirled and stared at the image on the screen. “Get Hurley in there. We cannot be assured of anyone’s safety at this point, but the most at risk are the ones already under this man’s eye. Who’s with Juanita?”

“Devil.” Opie had a quick response, and that told Fury he’d been thinking the same thoughts. “They’re in town shopping. I’ve already recalled them.”

A window popped up on the screen and the video resolved into a close-up of Myron. Fury stared because the backdrop wasn’t familiar. “You on your phone, brother?”

“Yeah, I’m out. Bear texted this was critical, so here I am.” Voices off camera filtered through and Myron grimaced. The phone jiggled a moment, then the sounds went away, and his face turned to the side, mouth moving soundlessly. A shadow crossed the wall behind him, then a man with short blond hair entered the image and exited through an open door, closing it behind him. The phone jiggled again and Myron said, “I’m good here now. Sorry about that.”

Before Fury could respond, another window popped up with the iconic club patch on a flag hanging in the background. That was the meeting room behind the bar at the Mother clubhouse in Chicago. Off screen someone made a sound that was a cross between a growl and a laugh. “I got no idea, brother. Myron usually does this shit. I think I got connected, anything on the screen?” A second voice, this one distinctively Bones, said, “I see only blackness, my friend. Clearly you have not worked the device correctly.”

Myron grinned and rolled his eyes. Fury watched him, thinking, Why does he get away with that shit, and I never would be able to? Myron said loudly, “Turn on the TV, Tater. You can use the little remote with the word TV on the back, or just punch the red button along the bottom right-hand edge.”

A red blob came into the window, the color gradually resolving into a view of Tater’s beard seen from the side. “I don’t see a red button.”

“One moment. I have it in hand.” Bones stepped around the table and into the foreground with his hand outstretched towards the camera. “Ah. There we are. Tater, you are in the way of the camera. Move back, por favor?”

Fury shook his head. “It’s like a comedy show in here. Opie, you get Hurley in there yet?”

“Yo, boss.” A blond head popped into view over Opie’s shoulder. “Present.” It seemed Opie’s habits were rubbing off on the freshly-patched man.

“Now that we’ve got a full house, let’s get back to it.” Fury stared at the camera, hoping he looked as serious as he felt. Being on video like this was weird. “Diamond and Lalo had friends, one of those friends looks to be Spider. Myron found some information we’ve been sitting on, because it was unclear what it meant. Years ago, Spider was down in Mexico and got involved in a drug trade that went bad. He somehow skated free, but in the years since, he’s made regular trips down country. Always alone, and always short, like he didn’t want to be gone long enough to be remarked on. Opie’s told us how his wife died, and the things he said when he went out of his mind. The fact she died on the border bridge when she had no reason to be there is enough for me, honestly. I think Spider’s under someone’s thumb and has been working both sides of the river. Is it hurting the club? I got no fuckin’ idea. But I do know him not fronting it out when Danger got snuffed down in Mexico is troubling. Him not coming forward and talking about it when Mela was found and fostered at Watcher’s is troubling. And finally, him not coming clean about any connections when fucking Lalo had Bella and the Soldiers’ entire club was tearing up Mexico looking for her, that’s beyond troubling. I got a list of things that are oddities, one me, Opie, and Bones have put together, and I’m happy to go through them, but wanted to have all the players here before I did so.”

“Where’s Mason?” Myron’s face was blank as he asked the question, but it still rankled Fury.

“He’s having a goddamned sitdown right now with the boys from Florida who brought news that Spider’d been seen with Lalo and Diamond in Adkens back before all the shit went down. That’s where the fuck Mason is right now.” It was the second trip the local dominant had made to Fort Wayne, and Mason was feeling them out about an acquisition. They were looking for something, no doubt, but what it was seemed hard to pick from the threads of their stories. Mason had sent Chismoso out with the information and instructions for Fury to start this conversation. “You got a different question sittin’ in your mouth, Myron?” Always have to prove myself.

Myron shook his head. “No, I’m just failing to see the urgency here. Spider and Diamond were a common sight. You sure they were seen with Lalo?”

A chair scraped behind him, and Fury stepped to the side, letting the camera focus in on Chismoso. “I am certain it’s urgent because Mason made it so.” Not a ringing endorsement, because he and Chismoso had shared a patch at one point, leaving separately, but for the same basic reasons. “And what you haven’t heard is that Spider has left Las Cruces, headed south. He was last seen crossing the bridge. Alone, when he hadn’t been granted permission to leave the country. Opie, this is your territory. I think it’s time for you to pick up the story.”

Opie’s head tipped down, and it looked as if he were staring at his hands. Without looking up, he spoke. “Some of this is shit Myron dug up, some if it’s from conversations me or one of the brothers had with Watcher over the years. Some of it is shit I’ve seen. I have something that looks like a laundry list.” He reached out and clicked something on the laptop and his screen split, showing a text document to the side. “Easier if I don’t have to read it, but I can if it’s hard to see.”

Fury scanned the text, seeing everything he’d expected, and one extra thing. “Cameras?”

Nodding, Opie said, “We never found out who planted the cameras in Watcher’s place. Myron helped out by tracking the feed to a truck.” He looked up. “Y’all have heard that story, right? Speak up if you haven’t.” He paused a moment, then continued, “I added that one while we were waiting on everyone to connect. The timeline matches up. Spider was in Florida, and fuck, I didn’t even remember him going. Diamond had headed down for some family thing and broke down. Spider took the truck and trailer, hauled his bike back for him. A week before I found the cameras and those were fresh installs. He had full access, man. Watcher never wanted any of his men to feel anything other than welcome, so it didn’t matter who was here or what time we’d show up, the door was always open.”

“The roadside drive-by.” Bones spoke up. “Spider was not with anyone when Watcher was fired upon?” Opie shook his head. “That is troubling, because as Watcher recounted it for me, the club entire came to his assistance, riding the wrong way on the highway like they were set to rescue the prince from harm.”

“Our king, and yeah, we did.” Opie made a face. “Except for Spider.”

“When Machos started breathing down your neck, wasn’t he the man sent down to Mexico to talk to Carlos Estavez?” Chismoso hadn’t retaken his seat, was still standing, leaning one hip against the table. “When looking for Mela after Watcher’s death, who did you send to Mexico to my village?”

“Spider, among others.” Opie sighed, and the cursor on the screen moved, a slow tapping translated to a line of text added to the document.

“I think we’re missing something.” Myron’s voice was low and intense. “We cannot tar and feather the man based on a list of supposed coincidences. He’s rolled out, gone south. There’s nothing innately dangerous in that.” The picture on his video shifted, and it looked like he’d been about to gesture, aborting the movement. “Let’s see where he goes, and who he talks to. Let’s see what’s real and not ghost stories told around a table in a dark room.”

“How do you propose we do that?” Fury glared at the screen. “The man isn’t in the country as of two hours ago, so exactly how do we accomplish that?”

Myron grinned. “Chismoso, you remember how I always knew where you were? And I showed you the tracker?” A grunt from beside Fury was Myron’s only answer. “It’s in the top drawer of the desk behind you. Get it out, turn it on.” Chismoso disappeared, and Myron squinted for a moment, nearly closing his eyes as his lips moved. “He’s number fourteen. Acquire the signal for number fourteen.”

Holding a small device shaped like a brick, Chismoso reappeared beside Fury. He fiddled with a knob on the side, then tapped a button. “Okay. Got it. What now?”

“Tell me where he is. The dot on the screen is Spider. His phone died last week, so I took the opportunity to send him one of the club phones. We all know they’re tracked, but he might have forgotten.”

Chismoso angled the screen so Fury could see, too. The dot was holding steady, not blinking or moving, but the map was zoomed in so close only a road crossroads was visible, the numbers showing not meaning anything to Fury. Chismoso tapped a button on the side once, twice, and the image zoomed out until the shape of the locale was clear. Fury looked up at the screen, staring into Myron’s eyes. “Mexico.”

“What do you want to do, boss?” Opie’s gaze didn’t waver, holding as steady as the blip on the screen representing Spider. He was looking to Fury for an answer. Fury glanced around the room to find every man’s eyes on him, no question in their mind who was the shot caller for this gig. Maybe most of the problems I see are in my mind. Maybe Myron hadn’t meant anything earlier. Maybe. Maybe not.

“I want you to roll to the bridge and hold. Wait. We see him moving your way, we’ll get word to you. Intercept and detain, take him to the clubhouse by whatever means you deem necessary.” Opie winced and Fury remembered that only months ago he’d been the second in command, standing alongside Spider at most functions. “Go easy if you can, but once you get him, you keep him.”

***

“How long ago?” Fury held the phone to his ear, waiting.

“Ten minutes. He’s a fuckin’ mess, brother. Not sure how he’s breathin’.”

“Get him there alive.” He disconnected the call, noting absently that his hands were shaking. Swallowing hard, he dialed another number and waited. The call connected and before they could say anything, he started talking. “Spider’s back. Glad I put the Las Cruces guys at the bridge, and even more glad they took a cage for some unknown fucking reason. Spider’s back, but he’s bad off, Mason. He brought home a package, though. A fucking package that we’ve been looking for a long time.”

Taking a breath, he paused, and Mason waited, the pause pregnant with tension.

“Tucker. He fucking brought fucking Tucker back, man.”

Drawling the words slowly, Mason asked, “Upright, or planted?”

“Fucking upright, brother. No clue why he’d risk so much.”

“Tucker unscathed?” Still slow, with the distinctive Kentucky accent, Mason questioned him. “Spider fucked up, but Tucker breathin’? That don’t make sense.”

“No, Tucker’s down, too. Opie’s getting them both to that church they deal with there in El Paso. He’s already rolling medics. They’ll meet them there. Juanita’s on her way, too. She wouldn’t hear no for an answer, and the boys there, they won’t put hands on the queen, brother. You know how it is.”

“Oh, yeah. I do.”

Noise in the background resolved to a child’s rising laughter, broken off in a scream for “More, Ace, more.” Mason’s voice sounded like he’d covered the receiver, but Fury could still hear him. “Take ‘em to the living room, Chase. Thanks, son.” Back in the speaker, he asked, “We got time to get there before things go south?”

“No idea, brother. I’d vote we wait for them to get situated, and see from that.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Mason paused, then said Fury’s name like a question. “Fury?”

“Yeah, brother?’

“Tell ‘em to make sure they keep Tucker incapacitated. He’s a fuckin’ cockroach, always coming back to life when we least expect it. Tell ‘em to keep him down, yeah?”

“Will do.” Mason was gone, the line nothing but dead air even before he finished saying those words. He tapped out a text to Opie, knowing if he was on his bike he’d get it as soon as they stopped. “Fuck.” He spoke to the empty room, then shoved at a chair, rolling it on a collision course with the wall. “Fuck.”

***

Mason

Mason strode up the hallway, Fury beside him. Their strides were in sync, boot heels striking in the same cadence, as if this were a maneuver they’d practiced. The church in El Paso was quiet, so each footfall rebounded down the hall, bending back on them in an echo. Their plane had landed an hour ago, and the van Opie had sent to pick them up would be waiting in the parking lot for as long as needed.

Spider was still alive, even if the off-the-clock doc their EMT had brought in didn’t understand how. Alive and mending, picking up strength over the handful of days he’d been laid up in the rough infirmary the church ran for the club. Originally the church had partnered with the Southern Soldiers, something Watcher had set up years ago, an arrangement Juanita fostered, volunteering much of her time here. Human trafficking victims passed through here frequently, brought in by the club as they patrolled what they considered their territory, or by others who knew of the mission. Mason had been here before, when Danger hadn’t been long gone, helping Watcher keep his club together as best he could.

They were on their way to see Spider, Mason agreeing with Fury that a face-to-face would help clear up much of the muddy confusion spread by the man’s behavior. Mason hadn’t liked the man for a while. Not since Spider had been a vocal holdout when Watcher had been balancing on the edge of his decision to bring the Soldiers into the Rebels. Mason still believed Spider was loyal to his old patch, even if he’d put a Rebel skull on his back.

Tucker wasn’t here. He’d been put back together more quickly and was waiting for Mason’s pleasure up in Las Cruces. The bunker under the barn on Watcher’s property was perfect for that kind of imprisonment, deep enough to stay cool even in the heat of high summer, and shallow enough to be accessible. Tucker knew who was coming, and Mason didn’t expect their conversation to go easy. He’d already talked to Slate and Bear, spoken with Bones and Shades. Bringing Fury with him was a calculated statement to the entire membership, but an even stronger message for his officers.

Their treatment of Fury hadn’t escaped his notice, and even if he understood the idea of a change at the national level was unsettling, he’d lose Fury if he didn’t get it under control. So this trip had three goals. Settle the members in his Las Cruces chapter in a way that left no questions about loyalty or responsibility. He knew he’d have to deal with Tucker, and while he didn’t relish the idea, he was ready. The man belonged to a different kind of crew, always had, the kind of outlaws who used the label as an excuse to do whatever the fuck they wanted. Mason knew differently, as did every man he trusted and called brother. An outlaw had to ponder their words even more carefully after taking on the weight of that one-percent diamond. When every move is scrutinized and cataloged, their words recorded and held against them, and all deeds possible leverage against every brother—those in the outlaw community learned fast how to hold their tongues.

That was the first goal. The second was to provide express approval for Fury’s handling of the situation Mason had thrust him into. He could have stepped out of the meet with the Florida boys, easy. He could have made the calls, dealt with the few he would have involved, and been back at the table in less than an hour. No insult was given to Sparks and his crew. But that wouldn’t have lent Fury the opportunity to take the reins. Mason had watched the recording and talked to Myron. It had come down to the two of them, and Myron had bowed to Fury’s words. He hadn’t liked it, but he’d done it, knowing it was what Mason would want. Myron’s loyalty wasn’t misplaced, and Mason treasured how the man felt about who was in charge. But Myron’s attitude was similar to what Spider had done months ago. Fuck of it was, as soon as Mason called him on it, Myron had seen it, face flushing red in embarrassment. So the second goal was to cut off at the knees anyone else who harbored the same doubts.

The third goal was to convince Fury of the same thing. Mason understood him better than Fury knew. They’d both come up through the clubs the hardest way, with blood and bone paving their paths. When a man winds up at the top of the heap using nothing but wits and fists, it’s hard for him to believe he deserves to be there. When a man doubts himself, he begins to see doubt all around him, a vicious circle of uncertainty. The leader of a club like the Rebels can’t afford to be uncertain. Not when mens’ lives depended on them making the right call every time. So Mason’s third goal would see Fury doubled down on himself, transforming the long journey he’d made into a grand win at the end.

They neared the only door with light seeping into the hallway, and Mason’s ears caught a gravel-filled muttering, the corner of his mouth curling up into a half grin. A woman’s voice responded to whatever the man had said, and Juanita’s crisp scold was clearly spoken. “No, you do not need to be on your feet. What you need is to stay where you are. So stubborn. It will not kill you to lie here, but it might for you to keep fighting like you are. I’ll tie you down if I have to, Spider. Do not test me.”

“Jesus,” Fury muttered. “She even sounds like Watcher.”

“What the fuck are you doin’, woman?” The closer they drew to the open door, the more they could hear. “Leave off with that shit. Dammit, stop it.”

“Not until you cease your stupidity, Anthony. Daena would be cross with you if she saw you like this.” There was silence for a moment, then Juanita said quietly, “I wasn’t thinking, Spider. I am sorry.”

“She’s been gone a long time, ‘Nita. Don’t worry about it.” Spider sounded subdued, his voice shaking slightly.

Rounding the door, Mason didn’t slow when the condition of the man in the bed hit him, didn’t allow any shock or concern to show on his face. He just walked up and stuck out his hand, reaching down to grip Spider’s thumb. It was about the only part of the man that wasn’t covered in gauze, tape, or plaster.

Glaring up at him, Spider twitched his thumb, either in greeting or an attempt to throw off Mason’s hold. “This is what it takes to get your ass back out here, Prez? One of your own laid up and dying?”

“You’re hardly dying, Spider,” Juanita scolded, rising from the chair near his bedside. “You were, at one point. But it was more passive, less active. You only coded once, they tell me. I’m certain there are still ribs unbroken.” She reached out, rounding the end of the bed, arms going around Mason’s waist from the side. “I can fix that for you. Welcome, Mason. Welcome.”

He released Spider’s thumb and twisted, pulling her around for a proper hug. “Hey, pretty lady. How are you holding up? I didn’t know you’d added nursing to your extensive skillset.”

She pulled back without answering, and he let her, watching as she made her way to Fury. “Hello, Gabe. I’m so glad you’re here.” Her hold on him was just as tight, and Mason watched Fury’s eyes close when he wrapped his arms around her in response. “Family shouldn’t be strangers.” Mason turned away, giving them a moment as he studied Spider.

He’d been beaten, that much was clear from looking at him. Fractured arm, broken ribs, and most of those were likely from before someone was humping on his chest to try and get his heart restarted. Burns, a lot of them, over his torso, neck, and face. Bruises, blooming and dying, those fading to yellow gave him a timeline. Whatever had happened to Spider, it had begun nearly as soon as he crossed the bridge.

“Got your fill of looking?” A mouthful of cotton couldn’t have muffled Spider’s words more than they were. Mason winced, feeling pained just listening to him. “Well? You want the story or you come here to put on a striped skirt and play doctor?”

“You up to tellin’ me a story?” He needed to hear it from the source. They knew what Myron had pieced together, but most everyone’s networks fell apart when they hit the border, and tech geeks weren’t any different. Chismoso fed him most of what they knew, him and a surprising source: Silly. The tattoo artist from Chicago still had family back in Mexico, and the memories of Estavez and his men ran long in the village where she’d grown up. “I could cop a squat and give it a listen, old man.”

“You realize if I could get out of this bed, I’d whip your ass, right?” Mason was shocked to see a smirk lift a corner of the man’s mouth, knowing it was as close to a grin as he’d ever seen. “It’s not a long story, won’t take long, Juanita. Stop your frowning. Go get a coffee or something.”

She moved from behind Mason to the other side of the bed, reclaiming her seat. “Stubborn.” Spider turned from her to look at Mason, and the plea on his face was clear. He couldn’t say what he needed to with her there. Mason nodded, but before he could say anything, Juanita sighed. “I know that look, Mason. I’ll take a walk, go to the donation room and sort some clothing for our friend here. The ones he came to us in were tatters, and if he’s as focused on leaving as he seems to be, it’ll save me some time very soon. I’ll give you thirty minutes.” She stood and rested her hand on Spider’s shoulder. “Don’t do anything stupid, okay?”

By unspoken agreement, they waited for the door to close behind her before anyone moved. Spider shifted on the bed and winced. “I got word Tucker was in Juarez. Bold as brass, hanging out in a bar where I go sometimes. I get on with Duck, talk to him a bit. He saved our Bella. Man is worth his weight if you ask me. His woman still struggles with that gal’s death.”

Mason nodded. “Essa. There’re a few of us who do.”

“Yeah. It’s harder when the young are taken from us.” Spider gestured towards the rolling table nearby. “Water.” Fury slid it towards him, then must have realized Spider couldn’t hold the cup and picked it up, angling the straw so the old man could sip. “Sucked in smoke and gas, hell on the throat.” He waved a hand. “So Tucker was there, not ten minutes from US soil, and I went to collect him. He owed us a death, at least one. Time to pay the piper. What I told him when I saw him. Then they were on me. Hadn’t seen ‘em, waiting in the shadows around the room. Cowards. Fucker laughed, but I got my licks in before they torqued me down.” Spider shook his head. “Hauled me to a ranch in the middle of fucking nowhere. You’ll never guess who was there.” He paused, and Mason shook his head.

“Not playin’ guessing games, old man.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t either. I found out I nurtured one traitor and harbored another for years. Decades. Pike.” He turned his eyes towards Fury. “Shoulda killed him instead of cuttin’ him. Learn from your mistakes.” His gaze swung back to Mason. “He had friends with him. They sounded a lot like you.”

“Men from Kentucky?” Mason took the cup from Fury and held it close, letting Spider’s hand rest against his, holding steady as he drank. “Is that what you mean?”

“Yeah. Sounded like you.” What they could see of his face paled, expression turning sad. “Miss Watch, man. More than I’d expect, given how we fought that last year. If I could take it back, take all of it back, I would. New York minute, yank it back and eat it down. Eat my words because he was right.”

Lifting his chin, he stared at Mason for a minute. “You’ll take care of that assmuncher for me, yeah? He did most of this. Never forget the sound of his laugh when he poured the gasoline. Hear it in my head now.” His head dropped back on the pillow and he took a deep breath. “Pike. Something’s wrong in that man, Mason. He feels like Lalo to me.”

“Did you put the cameras on Watcher’s house?” Spider jerked in the bed, head shaking back and forth. “Did you shoot at Watcher on the highway?” Another headshake. “How did you know Lalo?”

“You were a kid when you took over the Rebels. Renamed, we all knew the club still lived, didn’t matter what you called it. For years, I waited for Deacon to take it back. Years. He didn’t, though. Instead, he visited his brand of asshat on every fuckin’ club in the south. His touch spanned from Florida to California, and most of his preachin’ was against you.” Mason knew this already and lifted his hand to cut the man off, Spider beat him to it. “Let me have my say, dammit. You accusing me of bullshit, you need to know what happened. I didn’t do a thing you’ve listed, not one of them. Watcher was my family. Loved the man. Would never have done a thing that could have hurt him.” Mason settled on his heels and nodded. “Deacon came through here a few times, Las Cruces, I mean. After the first one, Watcher barred the doors against him. But I’d meet him and lift a bottle. Us old guys have to stick together. Kids don’t know what it took to be an outlaw back in the day, and we’d talk about shit like that. Talk about rallies we’d hit, places we’d seen. Was only a few years ago Deacon brought Lalo with him. Suches hated everything Deacon told him to, and that included you. That was the last time I sat a meal with Deacon, because his brand of bullshit was so deep he was drowning in it. Lalo was fuckin’ nuts, man. Fuckin’ nuts. And that’s how Pike feels now. You’ll have to deal with him, I suspect.”

“How’d you get Tucker out?”

“That’s a long story. Too long for today. Just know I had help. You need to talk to the Silent Death. That’s an MC that knows more than they’ve ever let on about what’s going on in Mexico, and right now, they’re runnin’ scared. One of them was at that ranch, opened a couple of doors for me and then looked the other way when I clocked Tucker.” Spider shifted again, pain twisting his features. “Got a truck, hauled him in it a slow inch at a time, trussed him to the gills and kept hittin’ him every time he woke up. Thank God it wasn’t monsoon season. I’d never have gotten him across the bridge if it were.”

Mason tipped his head to one side. “Monsoon season?”

“Yeah, when it’s wet and the river’s up, patrols are not as scattered. Guy I know was on the bridge and he just cussed me out for driving fucked up like I was. Didn’t look too close at the truck.” Mason shook his head. “Tucker was looking for information on something that happened in Colorado a few years ago. I think it had to do with that singer your sister brought down to Texas. Tucker’s owed the Mexican cartel for a long time, said he’s been paying off the interest just to stay ahead of it. He was talkin’ to Pike. Sounded like there was a warehouse that burned, and it came to roost on him for the whole of it.”

“Benny Jones? Tucker knew Benny?” Fury’s question startled both men and Mason turned to look at him. “I thought that story about Colorado was a spun thing, made larger by time.”

“Burned a whole warehouse full of product ready to ship,” Mason confirmed. “We never could figure out who it was set Benny up. Not for lack of looking on Slate’s part. He’ll be interested to know this, if you think Tucker played a part.”

“Don’t think, I know.” Mason frowned. The man’s breathing had changed. Faster, it was nearly a pant. “Fuck, this shit hurts, Mason. Can you get Juanita?”

On his way back with Juanita trailing him, Mason made out murmurs coming from the room. Quiet with a sense of urgency, the sound conveyed that something of importance was happening. As he came through the doorway, he saw Fury leaned over the bed, Spider’s bandaged hand gripping the back of the man’s head, holding him close. Fury nodded and pulled back, but Spider clamped down, keeping him in place, mouth moving.

“I got you, brother.” That was the first either of them had given Spider the word, and Mason recognized it for what it was, acknowledgement that Spider had never betrayed the club. “I got you. We’ll deal with that. He’ll answer for her death.” Fury stood, and Mason looked around him at Spider, locking gazes with the old man as Fury repeated, “He’ll answer for everything he’s done.”