Cass
Cass hammered the throttle, flying down the dimly lit highway. The only sign of light came from the motorcycles behind him. Thoughts of his headstrong girl back home flitted through his mind. He was trying to focus on what was to come but instead all he could think about was Lilly getting herself in the middle of some dumb shit that was about to go down. He was headed toward the clubhouse where his brothers waited for him, with Micah and the rest of the Sinners right behind him.
Cass wasn’t worried about winning this war because they had an ace in the hole that would help. They had Ghost. Ghost was the best hitman on the damn continent, hence his name. he could walk in anywhere, get the job done, and get out without ever being seen. It didn’t matter where it was, he was never seen nor heard. He was the key to beating these fuckers once and for all. Not only did they have Ghost in their corner, but they also had members from multiple Hounds charters throughout the south. They had left Linc and one other prospect at the house along with Digger, two Sinners, and Brock. Brock didn’t care to get his hands dirty anymore, said he had done that enough back when he was part of the cleanup crew in Oklahoma City. It didn’t bother Cass that he didn’t want to be involved, if anyone understood, he did. He had witnessed Brock back in his day since he grew up with him. Hell, he had called him Uncle up until he was a prospect.
Clayton would be ready at the clubhouse with the rest of the Hounds, and as usual, he would take charge. But Cass wasn’t sure he could hand the gavel over for this one. This shit was personal. They’d targeted his ol’ lady and killed his brother. He had put an ear to the ground and got wind that the Moccasins had been recruiting hard. They had more dealers under them now than they ever had and the dealers had recruited the junkies to do their dirty work.
He hadn’t heard anything on Asher, but that wasn’t surprising. He was probably laying low. Fucking pussy. Cowering like a little bitch at what he’d done. Cass’s blood boiled at the thought. He had Lilly convinced that he was actually worth a fuck when he pretended to fucking be nice to her and that wasn’t sitting well with Cass. He didn’t need her thinking he was a good guy when he was in charge of the goons that were trying to kill any Hound or prospect they could get near.
While Cass’s mind was wandering, they were nearing the clubhouse. Rows upon rows of bikes were lined in front and along the side of the club house, filling Cass’s heart with pride. These men made him proud to call them brother. He pulled in alongside the rest of the bikes, with Micah and the Sinners in tow. Shit was about to get real. It’s showtime.
Cass walked into the clubhouse with his head held high, ready to lead his club into the middle of chaos, but that was the shit they thrived on. Inside, the clubhouse was filled with cuts from Oklahoma to North Carolina. Hounds from all around were mingling and getting to know one another. Some of them old friends and taking this opportunity to catch up, others newly meeting and sharing stories.
Cass walked to the center of the room and the noise and talk died down as each Hound and Sinner gave him their undivided attention.
“Thank you all for being here. Snapper has addresses and coordinates in our office and he will plan accordingly for each and every one of you. We will be sending some of you to look after the ol’ ladies and the rest will be hitting different compounds.”
He scanned the room, gauging everyone’s reactions. They all seemed okay with that. He sighed internally, grateful that they were on board. A few of the guys made their way into the office to see what Snapper had planned for them while the rest remained at the bar and continued their conversations.
“Cass!” Micah called after him.
He turned around to see Micah a few feet away, walking toward him.
“Hey, do you want me to send the guys in there with Snapper too? I didn’t know if it was just a Hound thing or…” he trailed off.
“Yeah, man. Hell yeah. Y’all are family and that’s why you showed up, isn’t it?”
“Fucking right that’s why we’re here. I’ll send them in.” Micah grinned and turned around to talk to his guys. They were all so willing to come stand behind Cass’s club because of him. Not because of their name or the fact that they were well respected, but because Cass had built a relationship with the Sinners and they were standup fucking men, as well as brothers. Once Micah and the Sinners were out of sight, Cass walked around the bar to greet everyone that had showed up.
He was seeing members that he had never met, only heard of. The Hounds out of Nashville were all older, around Clayton’s age while the ones that came from Tampa Bay were barely in their mid-twenties. There was such a variety in age, yet everyone had come together for their brothers. Evidently, they all had one thing in common: Nobody fucks with a Hound.
Cass shook every single patch’s hand personally. In the midst of saying hello and thanking everyone, his sponsor from when he prospected caught his attention.
“Bear? Man, it’s good to see you,” Cass said, shaking his hand while half hugging him.
Bear stood tall, well over six feet, with a brown and grey beard that he kept trimmed short. His dark blue eyes carried years of being a patched member in them and his voice was deep, but not just any deep, a Sam Elliott deep.
“You too, Caine. It’s been a long time. I see you ain’t done too bad down here, after all.” His booming voice was proud and the smile on his face mirrored that.
Bear hadn’t thought that Cass coming down to Louisiana was a good idea, so his approval, whether it had been years since they’d seen one another or not, was important. When his mother passed, Cass lost a piece of who he was. She was like the glue that held him together and when she was gone, it didn’t matter who he had in Oklahoma City. He started to lose that spark he had. He didn’t have that fire burning behind his eyes anymore, the same fire he got straight from his mom. Bear had even told him once that his mom took his fire with her when she went.
A year or two after Cass left, Bear did too. He went to nationals and petitioned to be a nomad. Roaming without a charter. The only family he had was the Oklahoma City Hounds, and he had grown tired of the constant headache of being around anyone after he spent twenty years with them. Rumors flew around that Bear had been in love with Cass’s mom, but he wasn’t sure he believed that. Bear was always respectful of Cass’s parents’ relationship. All of the men were.
“Yeah, well. I had a great sponsor to teach me how to be a good brother, and an even better president.”
“I don’t know if I did much right when I was president, but from what I can see, son, you’re doing a damn good fucking job.”
“Thanks, Bear.”
Cass hugged him one more time before he continued to make his way through the slowly dwindling crowd of Hounds and Sinners. He got the same basic response from the majority of those that were there. They were all there to support a brother because they hoped had it been them needing help like this, everyone would’ve shown up, too.
When he was done talking with everyone and thanking them, he grabbed a drink at the bar. Shorty served him a canned Budweiser, his new favorite. He had enjoyed the Dos Equis he had been drinking, but damn did it get old. Now, they kept canned Bud on hand just for him. The cool beer quenched his thirst with ease, as it always did and he took a moment to sit down and breathe. He hadn’t stopped all night and this was just the beginning. They had a long fucking way to go.
Downing the rest of his beer, he set the can on the bar and took off upstairs to his room while everyone was occupied downstairs. He had a few things tucked away in his closet that he was going to need tonight, especially if Scott came through with the information he needed.
Inside his room, he locked the door behind him and walked into the closet. Below the shelves and the hanging racks, near the floor, was a cut-out in the wall that couldn’t be seen if you didn’t know what you were looking for.
Behind that piece of sheetrock was a safe planted into the wall. Cass presses his code into it and it chimed, happily unlocking for him and revealing its inhabitants. A First Wave M1A was broken down inside, his most prized sniper rifle, also known as his other woman. Suzie. One that he didn’t let on that he still had. As far as anyone knew, she had been gone for years. He never could part with it though and it was a handy little thing to have access to.
Double-checking to make sure all of the pieces were still inside, Cass shut the safe. He would grab it later when he was ready for it. For now, though, he had other things to handle. He unlocked the phone that sat comfortably in his front pocket. Dialing Linc’s number, he put him on speaker phone and paced around the room while he waited for him to answer.
Linc didn’t pick up, sending bad vibes coursing through him. Cass dialed him again with no luck. He searched through his contacts and found Digger’s number. He dialed it and it rang twice before he picked up.
“Hey, what’s up man?” Digger asked.
“I tried calling Linc and he didn’t answer. I was just checking in. Everything cool on y’alls end? How are the ladies?”
“Linc was passed out when I left. I went on a store run. You don’t have shit to eat in that damn place. So, I’m picking food up for everyone. The girls are fine. They’re holed up in your bedroom with your ol’ lady. Probably sitting around playing some board game or some shit.”
Cass chuckled. He was probably right. Lilly probably had a damn Disney trivial pursuit out, kicking everyone’s ass at it. “Alright, man. It was odd for Linc not to answer, so I figured I’d check in and make sure everything was okay.”
“No problem. I’ll give you a call when I get back if you want.”
“Nah. It’s all good. I’ll catch up with ya later.”
“Alright. Later.”
The call ended and Cass put his phone back in the front pocket of his jeans where he liked to keep it. He ran a hand through his hair at how silly it was of him to get worked up over Linc not answering. Of course he was resting as much as he could considering he’d been living in a hospital room for a few days now without much sleep.
Cass couldn’t blame him. He would’ve done the same thing had it been Lilly in there. No, he wouldn’t have. He would’ve gone after the stupid fucks that put her there once he realized she was okay. But, Linc did what he was told. He wasn’t allowed to go after them because there was a time and place for that and that wasn’t the time or place. Cass almost felt bad that Linc wasn’t going to be able to fuck some of these guys up, but he needed to be with Mindy. She needed him right now more than they did.
A knock on his door grabbed his attention and he walked over to open it. Scott stood in the doorway.
“Hey, brother. I found the information you wanted.”
Cass stepped aside and Scott walked in.
“Good. You’ll go with me for that one. We’ve both got the same amount of hatred invested here.”
Scott nodded. “When do we leave?”
“Whenever we get the rest of these guys on their way.”
“That’ll work. You still got ol’ Suzie?”
“Does a bear shit in the woods?”
Scott chuckled and shook his head. “I shoulda known.”
Scott and Cass parted ways. Scott disappeared into the office, no doubt to help Snapper get guys set up on where they needed to go while Cass went upstairs to a room that only he and Gater had a key to. Since Gater was the vice president, he was the only other patch that had access because that locked room was their armory. There were illegal guns locked up tight in there amongst other weapons. Knives, hand grenades, ingredients for Molotov cocktails. Cass had stowed away some of the things from their previous dealings in case they were to ever need them. Good thing, because now was the time they needed them.
When he entered the room, he shut and locked the door behind him. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust his brothers, it was simply a precautionary measure, especially since their clubhouse had been breached. From what Lilly said, though, no one came upstairs. But she was asleep and didn’t wake up until a gun was fired. The door didn’t seem to be tampered with, but once inside Cass noticed that some things were not quite in their place.
The way he had the room set up was simple. It looked like a pantry on one side; cabinets covered the wall. The back wall was lined with shelves at the top and two safes below them. That’s where he kept the Molotov ingredients and hand grenades. On the other side were multiple desks, each locked up tight with guns inside every drawer. There were codes that had to be put in along with a key to unlock them for them to be accessed. And every drawer on the first desk was open…and fucking empty.
Anger rose inside his chest, heart pounding and mind racing. Calming his thoughts before he flew off the handle and lost track of what it was he came in here for, Cass unlocked the safe that was filled with hand grenades and loaded them into a duffle bag. He unlocked the desk on the far end that contained ammunition and put them into a separate duffle bag. All the guys were carrying, so they likely only needed ammo. Some of them probably didn’t even need that, but Cass had it on hand just in case.
He threw the bags over his shoulders and locked up behind himself. Storming down the stairs, he set the bags in their meeting room and walked out to where everyone stood. The crowd was thinning out since Snapper was giving them their instructions. The remainder of men was dwindling down. He searched the main room of the clubhouse for Gater but didn’t have any luck. He must have already left on a mission.
Scott sat at the bar, while Leo and Shorty were behind it, serving drinks to those that remained. Clayton sat next to Scott, the two of them in deep conversation. When Snapper emerged from the office, Cass approached him.
“Hey, man. Gater been here tonight?” he asked.
The confused look on Snapper’s face gave Cass a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. “You know, now that you mention it, I haven’t seen him all day.”
Cass’s face reddened and his hands began to shake. “Someone find him. Right now.” Cass gritted out through clenched teeth.
Scott and Clayton both stood up and walked over. “What’s going on?” Scott asked.
“We have a fucking traitor on our hands.”
Clayton’s brows furrowed, his jaw set. “It’s that grimy VP of yours, ain’t it?”
“Not now, Pops. I don’t wanna fucking hear it.”
Scott looked back and forth between the two for a moment before he spoke. “What makes you think he’s a traitor?”
“He’s the only other motherfucker with a key to the armory, isn’t he? We’re missing guns, a whole fucking desk full.”
“Yeah, but we were breached yesterday…”
“The door is perfectly intact and whoever it was would’ve had to have multiple keys and a security code to get into the desk. You know that. You helped me design the damn thing.”
Scott stared blankly ahead, realization slapping him in the face like a scorned lover. Clayton stood there, pissed off and smug. He had warned Cass that something about him was off. He was a fake. He wanted to be a one-percenter but when it came time to do one-percenter shit, he didn’t have the balls. Cass had noticed that he was slowly becoming less and less involved around the club, especially in the past few weeks, but he didn’t think anything of it.
That was normal behavior for Gater for the most part. He wasn’t the same man that Cass had appointed VP four years ago and sure as fuck didn’t have the same values.
“I should’ve noticed. I should’ve fucking noticed that something was off with him when he stopped coming around like he used to.” The conviction in Scott’s voice was wrong. If anyone should’ve noticed it was Cass, but he’d been so preoccupied with staking out the Moccasins and planning their retaliation that he’d failed to see Gater for what he was. A lying, conniving, snake in the grass.
“No, brother…” Cass rested his hand on Scott’s shoulder. “If anyone should’ve seen it, it should’ve been me. You can’t blame yourself.”
“I’d love to sit here while you two discuss whose fault it is that neither one of you saw that grimy bastard for what he was, but the clock’s ticking and he’s probably out there somewhere, running for the fucking hills. And meanwhile, you have brothers out there fighting a war you started. So, can we have this goddamned girl talk later?” Clayton’s voice boomed through the bar, shutting Cass and Scott up and drawing attention from the few that were left in the bar.
“You’re right. I’ll put somebody on his trail and see what they can find. Me and Scott have somewhere to be anyway,” Cass said, his voice dry and emotionless.
“Snapper!” Cass yelled.
“Yeah?” Snapper came out of the office.
“Find Gater. And fast.”
“On it, Prez.”
Cass looked at Clayton. “Anyway, like I said, we have somewhere to be.”
“And where is that?” Clayton asked.
“To see about a ghost.” Cass grinned.