Nate
“Here, take this.” I hold out my hand to Emily, her eyes widening as she recognizes what I’m clasping.
“Shit.” She continues to gawk. “What the hell you want me to do with that?” Her eyes widen and I can’t help but laugh at the ridiculous look on her face.
“Self-preservation one oh one,” I say with a chuckle. “Take the goddamn gun.” I push it towards her and she steps back, holding her hands up in the air.
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
She shrugs her shoulders. “I’ve just never had one before.”
“Well, around here, we all have them. You need to protect yourself.” I reach for her hand, dropping the gun into her palm before wrapping fingers around it. “Emily, I have to ride this afternoon, club business. I need to know that you can take care of yourself while I’m gone.”
She takes the gun, gulping down but nodding in acceptance. “Keep it with you at all times.”
“Sure,” she replies with a hint of sarcasm.
“I ain’t fucking around, Emily. That gun never leaves your side, got it?”
“Okay, okay.”
“And use today to get to know some of the other girls. They’ll be arriving shortly to do some cleaning around the place. You gotta fit in. Make it known you’re staying with me. We need everyone to believe this cover story, no questions asked.” I turn, grabbing my cut and sliding it on over my shoulders. “You should come down, see us off. The guys need to see you with me. My father has to believe this is real.”
“Of course.” She nods grabbing her purse, dropping the gun inside and throwing it over her shoulder.
“Let’s go.” I hold out my hand and her eyes pause on it momentarily before she takes it. I link fingers with her, knowing this is something I have to do. We make our way downstairs and out front. The guys gather around, eyes focusing on us as we approach the men. Whistles and jeers welcome us, and I side-glance at Emily. Her cheeks have reddened, but I offer her a wink anyway. Leaning into my arm, she clutches on to me for dear life.
“Well if it isn’t love's young dream,” my father yells. I offer him a nod and his grin widens. “Glad to see the two of you together.”
My heart races as the whole group seem to accept our statement. Standing here, holding hands, sends a clear message, one that will hopefully allow me to see my real girl. Tara.
“Thanks, man,” I say, walking over to my bike. I loosen the hold on her hand as I mount the bike, sliding on my helmet. Wrapping my arm around her waist, I pull her close, kissing her fleetingly on the lips.
“You take care, alright?”
“Sure thing,” she replies with a lift of her brow. She rubs my shoulder, playing along and I couldn’t be prouder. I think we may just pull this off.
“Let’s ride, motherfuckers!” my father yells, revving his engine and leading the group. We follow one by one. He sets the pace, and like a pack of loyal dogs, we follow.
* * *
After over an hour of riding we finally pull up at the Deathseekers' meeting point. Jarvis drives the van, ready to bring back the gear. The meet point is a little off the beaten track, but it’s the only way to do business. Away from civilians and any kind of law enforcement.
One by one we pull up outside the warehouse, killing the engines and stepping off. I glance over at the Deathseekers' bikes that are also lined up. The eerie quiet location makes me feel uneasy. The fact is we are now dealing guns with a rival gang, a deal we really don’t need to do because the money I took from Alvrez set us up for years. None of this makes sense. Reaching into my back pocket, I grab my gloves, pulling them onto my hands. I take no chances at leaving fingerprints.
“Let’s get the party started,” Silver hollers, pointing toward the metal door to the warehouse. I look over my shoulder to see Zane just behind me but staying close. Davo is on my left side, and I feel a little reassured to have him with me. I know I can trust the guy with my life.
“Let’s see what these fuckers have to offer,” he says in a hushed voice and a raise of his brows.
I lean my head toward Davo. “Do you think we really need to do this deal, man? The money we made from Alvrez meant we could keep our heads down and out of trouble. Yet here we are, looking at goddamn guns. I can’t make sense of it.”
He stands in a regimental stance, hands clasped in front of him. “Your father has become greedy. He’s too accustomed to the life you have given him this past year. He knows full well that money won’t last forever.”
“Fuck,” Silver says slamming his clenched fist against the metal door once more. “Why the fuck aren’t they answering?”
My father clutches a cigar between his fingers, pulling out his cell with his free hand, ready to call Brewer. His attention is suddenly caught by the metal garage door opening.
“Gentlemen,” Brewer welcomes us, his arms open wide as he steps from the warehouse.
“Brewer, man, it’s been too long.” My father steps toward him, taking his embrace and patting him lightly on the back.
“Good to see you, Jeffries.”
“Just glad we could finally put all of our shit behind us,” my father offers, parting from Brewer and squeezing his shoulder lightly.
“Me too,” he replies with a smile. “Come,” he says with a nod of his head. “Let me show you the hardware.”
“Can’t wait.” My father claps his hands together.
“Yeah, man. You’re really doing us a favor taking these off us. The heat has been on us lately. We had to move all our stock here,” he says gesturing to the warehouse.
“Great fucking location.”
“You would think, right?” Brewer lets out a huge breath. “Our intel suggests that the feds are onto us. That’s why we have to get rid of the rest of these. Fast.”
“Well, I’m your man,” my father quips.
The whole crew follows my father and Brewer inside. The rest of the Deathseekers crowd around the huge wooden crates at the back of the warehouse.
“I take it we get to try these babies out?” my father inquires, and Brewster replies with a nod.
“Goes without saying, man. I take it you brought the money?”
“You bet.” My father turns to Silver who is clutching the bag full of money, reaching out and taking it from him. Resting the cigar between his teeth, he starts to open the bag, showing the cash to Brewer and his crew.
“Good, good,” Brewer says, nodding his head, his eyes lighting up at the sight of the money. He instructs his men to remove the lid from the crate and we step forward, checking out the array of guns on offer. The men whistle at the sight of AK47s, shotguns, and a whole range of illegal semi-automatic guns.
“Impressive,” I say with wide eyes.
“Yeah, man,” my father says in agreement.
“Shall we take them outside and do a little target practice?” Brewer asks.
“Hell to the fucking yeah,” Silver blurts out like an excited child.
Brewer gives the nod to his men and they carry a small crate out of the rear door.
“Follow me, gentlemen,” his smarmy voice calls to us and I have that feeling of dread again. I eye him warily and he lifts his brows as though questioning my skeptical expression.
Walking through the side door, they lead us to the rear of the warehouse. Makeshift targets have been set up, pinned against large trees just slightly in the distance.
“Silver, Nate, try these out.” My father reaches into the box, handing me the AK. Holding the military-style gun, I get the gun ready to fire. Pulling back the operating rod, I release the safety. Placing the butt of the gun against the front of my shoulder, I grasp the grip and hover my finger over the trigger. Tipping my head, I look straight down the barrel and towards the target. Squeezing the trigger slowly, the loud cracking sound rings out as the gun fires rapidly. The more I fire the more it buzzes in my ear. When the target on the tree is almost obliterated, I release my finger, lowering the gun.
“Fuck,” I breathe out as the adrenaline of firing such a powerful weapon buzzes through me.
“That good, eh?” Brewer says to me, holding his hand out for the gun. I quickly flick back on the safety before handing it over.
“I could get used to firing a gun like that,” I say, blowing out a controlled breath. Placing the gun back in the crate, I watch as my father tries out the shotgun and Silver takes his turn with the AR-15 pistol.
I step back in line with the other guys while my father talks over things with Brewer.
Jarvis leans into me, quietly whispering in my ear. “This whole thing seems a little too good to be true, man.”
“I agree. Let’s hope we can pull this thing off.” My eyes watch the Deathseekers one by one, shaking my father’s hand. “Come on,” I say with a tip of my head, leading the guys back inside and out front to our bikes. We stand there, waiting for my father and his VP to appear.
Within a few minutes the men walk out, the Deathseekers carrying the crates. We race over to help them, loading them into the back of the van.
“Thanks, man.” One of the crew offers me a smile, his face looking familiar.
“Don’t I know you?” I offer back, wracking my brain as I try to work out who this guy is and where I’ve seen him before.
“I don’t think we’ve ever met.” The guy shrugs and I can’t help but notice how young he is. “Brewer’s my old man,” he offers with a grin, and now I see it.
“Shit, yeah. Should have realized.” I reach inside my pocket, pulling out my smokes and offering him one.
“Thanks, man.” He takes one from the packet and I offer him a light.
“So, you’re the heir to the Deathseekers, huh?”
“I’ve only just officially joined the crew, but yeah, it’s in my blood.”
“Me too,” I say, directing my gaze over to my father. “Jeffries is my old man.”
“Two of a kind,” he says, taking a huge drag of his cigarette, blowing the smoke out in rings. “Be good for us to strike up a good working relationship. I know the history between the two clubs, but there’s no reason why we can’t put it behind us and move onto a more lucrative working partnership.”
“Agreed.” Offering my hand to him, he takes it, shaking.
My father hands the bag of money to Brewer, wrapping up the deal.
“Let’s get out of here,” my father instructs and we all jump back on our bikes, Jarvis makes his way into the van.
“Davo and I will ride behind the van, protect the cargo,” I yell over the hum of the engines to my father.
“You both ride up front with the rest of us. The van tails us. Got it?”
I lift my hand in acceptance, looking at Davo beside me. He shakes his head and I know he sees and feels the same fucking frustrations that I do.
My father sets off, and one at a time, we pull away from the warehouse and head out onto the main road. Constantly checking my wing mirrors, I keep a close eye on the van and Jarvis behind us. I don’t like that he has thousands of dollars’ worth of firearms unprotected.
After riding for around ten minutes, my attention is caught by the sudden sound of gunfire. I check in my mirrors to see the van spinning out of control. I yell out, trying to catch the attention of the crew, slowing my speed and slamming on the brakes, then I grab the handles of the bike and try to control it as I force it to halt to a stop. The bike falls on its side from beneath me. I scramble up from the ground, my eyes darting to Davo who follows me. Stopping, he props up the bike, running toward the van now on its side. Pulling out my gun, I run back toward the van, fire smoking from the engine compartment. I crouch a little, noticing the black bikes hiding behind the van. I lift my gun, opening fire on the men wearing black full-face masks.
“Shit,” I yell, looking over my shoulder to see if the guys have realized yet. I see Davo climbing onto the overturned van, desperately trying to open the door in an attempt to get Jarvis out.
The masked men return fire as they open the back of the van, pulling out one crate after another. A vehicle backs up and they start loading the crates with the guns inside.
“Nate,” Davo yells as he stands on the side of the van, opening the door. “I’m going to lower him down. Get ready to catch him,” he instructs and my eyes flit between the guys robbing our fucking guns, and Davo. He grunts and groans as he tries to get Jarvis out of the truck.
I hear the sound of motorcycles approaching and notice my father and the rest of the gang pull over just a little way down the road.
“The guns,” I roar, pointing to the motherfuckers loading their van. The doors slam shut and their wheels screech as they drive to get away. My crew opens fire on the vehicle and the motorcycles as they speed away from us.
“Motherfuckers,” my father growls.
The limp body of Jarvis is lowered from the van. Holding out my arms, I attempt to hold his weight. “Guys. Help me get Jarvis on the ground.” I’m yelling so loud my lungs burn. Zane runs to me, grabbing hold of his legs while I secure him under the arms. Moving him clear of the burning van, my heart pounds as the rage rises inside of me.
“Fuck,” I growl out, looking at the burnt body of Jarvis in my arms. His whole torso is covered in blood and it looks like he’s taken a bullet.
“Jesus Christ, no,” my father cries out, throwing his head back, holding his hand across his forehead.
“He’s not breathing, man!” I yell, hoping some fucker knows what to do.
Silver steps closer to us, dropping down to his knees. “What the fuck…?” His eyes flit between the van and Jarvis in my arms.
“Call the prospect,” my father demands to the guys. “We’re going to need another van.”
Zane drops to his knees beside me, tears falling from his hardened face. “We need to catch whoever did this.” Placing his fingers to Jarvis’ wrist, he checks for a pulse.
“He’s gone, man.” He lets out a huge breath, slowly stepping up from the ground. Holding his hands over his face, he slumps his shoulders, walking away from the carnage. Laying Jarvis flat on the ground, I step up, making my way over to check on Zane.
Walking over to him where he rests back against the seat of his bike, his head lowered, I place my hand on the back of his head, pulling it against my chest. “I’m so sorry, brother. He was a good guy. The best.”
“We gotta get the fuckers who did this! Did you get a look at any of them?”
“Nah, man. They were wearing masks. But I’m pretty sure I recognize the bikes.”
“Really?” he asks lifting his head, his bloodshot eyes narrowed and focused on me.
“Looks like the Deathseekers screwed us over big-time.”
“It wasn’t them,” my father interjects with a tone of absolute certainty.
I snap my head to meet his gaze. “We were just there. I saw the fucking bikes. I recognize them from the line-up outside the warehouse.”
“Oh, yeah, dipshit? And where did the van come from, huh?”
I turn to my father, flaring my nostrils and pulling back my shoulders, ready to kick this fucker’s ass. Father or not.
Flying up from sitting on the bike, Zane launches for my father, but I’m quick to step in his way, pushing against his chest. I won’t have my father use this against Zane.
“This is your fault. You told us we could trust them. You got Jarvis’ blood on your hands, you cocksucker.” He spits on the ground just in front of my father.
“Hold the fuck up,” he scorns. “No one knows for certain that the Deathseekers are behind this. But if they are, we’ll get to the bottom of it. Then I will make the traitorous bastards pay.”
Pointing his finger, Zane lunges in Jeffries’ direction. “Nate raised his concerns. You overlooked him and made this deal anyway. You fucked up, Prez. And now we’ve lost a brother!” He jolts forward one more time, but I push back on his chest, putting some distance between him and my father.
“Listen to me,” I whisper through clenched teeth. “We’ll fucking handle it. But not like this,” I say, trying to get him to understand that trying to fight with my father will only make him look bad. “We do this the right way. You get me?” I widen my eyes, searching his face for an answer.
“I want my revenge, Nate. Not just the Deathseekers, but your father as well. He gotta go. I need a promise from you.”
“You have my word,” I say with certainty. Because nobody wants my father out of the president’s chair more than I do.