Devon

With nothing I could do for Dash, I had no choice but to head back to the motel with another ass chewing from Doc to look forward to. I was returning empty-handed in the information department, and only managed to succeed in having my ass handed to me by two very angry women.

How the fuck did my life get so complicated?

These were the words repeating in my head as I rode to our makeshift compound where we were preparing for war with The Dixie Mafia, the Russian Mafia, and a shadow organization funding their operations in Savannah.

Fuck me... I was just supposed to help construct a few buildings, not go to war.

I arrived at the motel at just after seven o’ clock to find everyone waiting for me in my room.

“How’s Dash?” Doc asked as soon as I walked in.

“I dunno, the nurse wouldn’t let me see him and then Willow showed up and...” I raised both eyebrows.

“Alright, we’ll have to deal with all that later. I know we’re all concerned about Dash, but right now, we have other pressing matters, so let’s focus on the task at hand; figuring out what the fuck we’re gonna do about tonight’s meeting.”

“We have to call it off,” Hatch said. “The Dixie guys said they’d only meet with Dash, and he obviously can’t be there.”

“We can’t call it off, we need this meeting in order to find out who’s running the show,” Doom replied.

“I’ll go,” I said.

Suddenly, I was very aware that every person in the room was looking directly at me.

I shrugged. “Dash wouldn’t be in the hospital if it wasn’t for me, so I’ll go.”

“Thanks for the offer, Sparky, but they did say they’d only meet with Dash,” Doc said.

“Who the fuck cares what they said? Besides, they probably don’t even know what Dash looks like. I’ll show up, they’ll see the Dog’s cut and we’ll talk about the truce.”

“It’s just that simple, is it?” Hatch countered.

“Maybe it is,” I replied. “You guys keep saying these guys are business men. If that’s the case, they should want to talk business.”

“Sure. Unless they really just want to put a bullet in Dash’s brain for the last time he got involved in their affairs. You really want to be standing there for that?” Dalton asked.

“If you guys really thought that, then why the hell would you let Dash walk into a shit-storm like that anyway? C’mon, just let me try to talk to these guys. What other choice do we have?”

Dalton looked at Doc and nodded.

“Alright, we have a new plan,” Doc said. “The part of Dash will now be played by Sparky. The rest of us are gonna pray that he doesn’t get shot. Now let’s get ready.”

* * *

I looked at my watch for the dozenth time in the last half hour. The reality of what I was about to walk into was setting in. To make matters worse, Poppy’s words were echoing through my head, and I was fairly certain she’d personally murder me if I ended up getting myself killed. Doc, Hatch, and Dalton were the only other people in the room (Doom and Alamo were somewhere on my route for backup), and although no one would ever know it, I could tell they were all on edge.

“Wheels up in five, Sparky,” Doc called out.

“Check,” I replied without looking up. The location of the meeting was set and Dalton’s snipers were already in place. I hated that we had virtually no solid information of who exactly we’d be meeting with, but figured we’d know soon enough. Besides, what choice did we have? The Dixie Mafia had requested a sit down, and we were in no position to argue. They have the guns, the numbers, and the political influence to wipe us off the face of the planet, so our best chance at beating them was to play nice and try to keep the element of surprise.

“If you want to back out, now’s the chance,” Doc said.

“Fuck you Doc,” I replied. My words spilled out before I could contain them. “I’m sorry, I—”

“I get it,” he replied with a nod. I appreciated the fact that he didn’t lay into me for my lack of respect, but there was no way in hell I was about to back out of this.

“Alright then, let’s head out,” he said, and turned to me. “We’ll be just down the road from the golf course, and Dalton’s guys will have eyes on you at all times. If you feel unsafe at any time, you wave a hand in the air and the cavalry will be there directly.”

“Got it,” I said.”

Hatch pulled me aside. “You cool?”

“What the fuck? Why is everyone asking me that? I’m gonna be fine.”

“I’m not asking for me, I’m asking for Poppy,” he said. “If I let you get killed, she’s gonna be mad as hell at me,” he said with smile.

“Tell me about it,” I replied.

“Seriously, though, are you good?”

“Yeah, Hatch, I’m good. Like Doc said, Dalton’s guys are on me, and you guys will be up the road. I’m as safe as kittens.”

Safe as pigs walking into a slaughterhouse.

Hatch nodded. “Alright then, you’d better roll out.”

I shot Poppy a quick text that simply read: “I love you and I’ll see you soon,” and started up my bike.

* * *

I arrived at the golf course a few minutes before the meeting time, riding casually and cautiously to the specified meeting place...a gazebo, facing the water on the west side of the course. Lights were strung up in the surrounding trees as well as on the gazebo itself, casting a romantic glow. I could see a folding table and two chairs set up in the center of the gazebo, and in one chair sat a man with dark, slicked back hair, wearing what looked to be a very expensive white suit. Just outside the gazebo, on each side of him, stood a large body guard. If I had to guess, they were armed. I parked as close as I could to the spot just in case I needed to beat a hasty retreat, but that was still a good fifty yards away. I walked to the gazebo and the man, still seated, spoke.

“Please excuse the formalities, but one can never be too careful these days, don’t you agree?”

With that, his body guards were on me, and after a thorough frisking, one of them grunted, “Clean, Boss.”

“Thank you so much for meeting with me this evening. Won’t you please come sit down? Perhaps you’ll join me in a drink.” He motioned to a bottle of twenty-year-old Pappy Van Winkle’s bourbon and two glasses that had been set out.

“Thanks, I’m not thirsty,” I replied.

“Yes, well, you’re also not Dash Lloyd, are you?” I stiffened, but before I could speak, my guest smiled wide and said, “It’s alright, please sit down.”

I did as he requested, and took a seat as he continued, “Now, before I find out exactly who you are, please allow me to introduce myself. My name is Harlan Cavanaugh and I’m from the great state of Kentucky. Now... who might you be?”

Harlan Cavanaugh looked like the canary that ate the cat. His facial expressions were warm, but controlled. This was a man that was used to being in control.

“I’m Sparky, and I’m from the great state of what the fuck is this all about?”

His smile dropped from his face, which remained like stone for several seconds, before returning wider than ever. “Sparky?” He laughed deeply. “Ooh, now that will simply not do at all, will it? I just can’t possibly imagine your dear sweet mama looking down at you on your very first birthday and calling you Sparky.”

“My mama was neither dear nor sweet,” I replied.

“Regardless... tell me, what did she call you on the glorious day of your birth.”

“Devon, and I’m calling this a waste of time,” I said, and turned to walk away. I wasn’t about to let this sweet talking, southern gentleman, Foghorn Leghorn wannabe, intimidate me.

“Come now, let’s not start off like that. I was hoping we could be friends. Honestly now, joining me for a drink is the least you can do after showing up in place of my invited guest.” His ever-present, ultra-white, smile was as menacing as it was polite, and behind every “request” was a thinly veiled order.

“Dash couldn’t make it.”

“Yes, I understand he was involved in an accident earlier today. How is he doing? Is he expected to fully recover?”

How the fuck did he know about Dash?

“He’s good. Let’s talk business,” I said, trying to keep the upper hand.

“Business?” He threw his head back a let out a low laugh that made my flesh crawl. “Now, who said anything about talking business tonight? No, Devon, this was designed to more of a...  social call, if you will.”

“A fuckin’ social call? You burned down our club and put one of our guys in the hospital.”

“Well, that’s just the very thing I wanted to talk about with young Mr. Lloyd. Are you sure you won’t join me in a drink? This is some of Kentucky’s finest bourbon.”

“No thank you, Mr. Cavanaugh, is it?” I replied dryly as possible.

“Yes, that’s right,” he replied, his smarmy grin still glued to his face.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch your friends’ names as they were putting their hands all over me.”

“Oh, don’t you worry about Sylvester and Tweety here. They go with me everywhere I go. Just in case I need assistance. You understand, now don’t you? Well of course you do.”

He fixed his gaze on me in an unsettling way. In fact, just about everything about this guy was unsettling.

He continued, smiling once again. “Now, as I’m sure you are aware, Mr. Lloyd... oh how shall I put this... inserted himself into a business matter of ours not too long ago, and I felt it prudent to set the record straight on a few things. Balance the books if you will.”

“How’s that?”

“Well now, Mr. Lloyd—”

“Dash,” I corrected him, causing him to show yet a few more teeth.

“Yes, Dash, of course. I’ve always found it so peculiar that a rough and tumble group of men, such as a biker gang, would choose to refer to themselves by such juvenile nicknames. Strange behavior, don’t you think?”

I thought of Poppy’s research paper on alpha male pack behavior, and that he might have a valid point, but refrained from commenting.

“Motorcycle club.”

“What’s that now?” he asked.

“We’re a motorcycle club, not a gang. We’re not lookin’ for trouble from you, or anyone else for that matter.”

“Nevertheless,” he continued, “Dash, and your little club, have managed to do just that. Cause trouble for us.”

“Dash was simply trying to help some folks whose church turned into a shooting gallery.”

“Such an unfortunate event indeed. All that violence. So unnecessary.” His words dripped with fake sincerity. “Really, such a tragedy, and I can fully appreciate Mr. Lloyd—I’m sorry—Dash, coming to the rescue of those poor people. This was a church after all, and I’m sure the spirit must have moved him to act as the good Samaritan.”

“Something like that.” It was all I could do to keep from leaping across the table and choking the life out of this smug prick. “We’re a small community and we take care of people in need.”

“As much as I understand his need to assist those good people, what I don’t understand is why he would further stick his nose into our business, and moreover, why he would feel the need to assist local law enforcement in their criminal investigation. I had always been under the impression that biker gangs... excuse me, motorcycle clubs, were typically at odds with the local PD.”

“Yeah, well we tend to change our tune when people open fire on our citizens, especially when old people and children are gunned down in a place of worship.”

“Now, on that I agree with you one hundred percent, and that’s precisely why I wanted to talk to your friend Dash. As I know you are fully aware, our organization has recently gone through some upper management changes.”

I shifted in my seat.

“It’s okay, I know your associates have been asking around about us and I also understand why Mr. Lloyd felt the need to protect his town and his pretty new wife. And let me be clear, under my leadership, that senseless tragedy would have never happened. This whole thing was an error in the judgement of the previous management. Simply put, we’re willing to let bygones be bygones. The ashes of your new nightclub and the blood of your member are to serve as a way of evening things up between our organization and your club.”

“Is that so?”

The smile dropped from Harlan’s face.

“Yes, that is so.” He poured himself another drink and leaned back in his chair slightly. “I’m not sure you understand exactly what’s going on here, Devon. Look at me as your newly elected Governor and I’m granting you and your club a pardon.”

“A pardon?”

“That’s right. You see, your club disrupted our business, helped put several of our associates behind bars, and tarnished an otherwise stellar relationship with another local motorcycle club, but rather than dig a series of holes to put you all in, I’ve decided to take my pound of flesh and call it even.” He paused and leaned forward. “Granted you agree to keep your nose out of our future business dealings here in Savannah, or anywhere else for that matter.”

“And what business would that be? Just so we’re clear on what to stay away from.”

His smile returned and was even more unsettling than before.

“I like you, Devon. I can see why they call you Sparky. My business is just that, my business, but I’ll tell you what. How about the Dogs of Fire simply make it a point to stay out of the nightclub business entirely? In fact, should you get the urge to start any kind of business venture of any kind, you just feel free to run it by me, and I’ll let you know if you’re stepping on any toes.”

“And I suppose you’re gonna want a taste of any business we already have in town?”

“See, I knew you were a smart boy the moment I laid eyes on you. Since our relationship with the Raptors has ended due to all that unfortunate church mess, let’s just say we’re auditioning for a new club to work with and it’s time for you to dance a little for us.”

“I’ll have to talk to our club president about this.”

“Of course, of course, talk to your president and take all the time you need to make a decision and give me an answer... as long as I hear from you within the next twenty-four hours, and the answer is yes.”

“We’ll be in touch.” I stood to go and Harlan extended his hand, which I left hanging in mid-air.

“Well, then,” he said. “Now, don’t you forget what we talked about. Booze, drugs, girls, gambling, and guns in Savannah all belong to us now, and should y’all forget that, the next one of your associates won’t end up in the hospital. He’ll be in the morgue.”

“We shouldn’t be in your way. The Dogs don’t run guns or dope, and all our liquor is above board. We run clean clubs where people can come and have a good time without being hassled.”

“You didn’t mention girls,” he replied flatly.

“What about ’em?”

“Come on, Devon, every club needs girls, and I need to be assured the Dogs of Fire won’t come sniffing around our stables.”

“Like I said, we run clean clubs. I’ll talk to our president and let you know.”

“You do that. It’s been a pleasure meeting you... Sparky.”

I left the meeting with questions, but also a few answers Harlan Cavanaugh probably hadn’t realized he’d revealed.

After diverting down several side streets in an effort to lose anyone who might be following me, I arrived back at the motel about thirty minutes after I left the golf club and parked in the back. Walking inside, I let myself into the room and locked the door behind me.

“So?” Hatch asked, rising to his feet from the desk chair.

“They have girls for sure, and somethin’s definitely goin’ down tomorrow.”

Doc frowned. “Tell us everything.”

Doc invited the FBI guys into the room and I filled them in on the meeting and how Harlan Cavanaugh had tipped his hand.