Chapter Twenty-Two

Blood and Cat strode into the clubhouse. He paused to tell her to wait for him while he dealt with his club, then he went up to Undertaker’s office and tapped on the door.

“Come in,” barked his President.

Blood entered to find Undertaker behind his desk, his VP, Mooch, as well as Sandman, were kicked back in the chairs in front of it.

“Where the hell you been?” Undertaker bit out. “Don’t you ever pull a stunt like that again.”

Blood’s eyes cut to Sandman, wondering how much he’d told him. Didn’t matter, Blood wasn’t going to lie to his President. “I found something I can use to negotiate with Black Jack. He’s got Holly. Sandman tell you he’s working with the Death Heads?”

“Yeah, he told me. And we’ll get to that in a minute. What I want to know now is why you think you can just take off without talking to me.”

“Sorry. Clock’s ticking.”

Undertaker ran his hand down his beard and adjusted in his chair. “Yeah, Friday. I heard.”

“The cell phone and laptop… They find anything on ‘em we can use?”

“Ton of shit about Black Jack’s businesses. Not much about the Death Heads. There were some texts about a meet Friday, a time and location. I’ve got some of the boys doing recon on it now. If it’s a meet with the Death Heads, we’ll be ready with a little ambush of our own.”

“Sounds good.”

“So you contact Black Jack yet?”

“Texted him. Waiting for a response.”

“You get one, we all plan the next step.”

“I get Holly and kill Black Jack. Done deal. There’s nothing to discuss. Club can’t let him live. Not if he’s dealing with the enemy.”

“Son…”

Blood looked at the man who was more of a father to him than his own ever was. Undertaker had been the dominant man in Blood’s life since he was a teenager.

And now that the relationship between Black Jack and the Death Heads had come to light, Blood realized—and he knew Undertaker did, too—that they had to eliminate Black Jack. There was no other way. Undertaker just didn’t realize that Blood wanted the man dead for an even greater reason. Nor did he realize that killing his father would not be a burden; it would be a pleasure.

“I’ve asked you to do a lot of shit over the years, and you’ve done every task I’ve ever asked of you. But, Son, I can’t ask this of you.”

“Yes, you can.”

“No, Blood. The man… Whatever else he is, he’s still your ol’ man.”

“He ain’t shit to me.”

“Blood—”

“Sandman tell you that piece of shit killed my mother?”

“Yeah, he did, but—”

“It has to be me that takes him out. You get that, right?”

Undertaker nodded. “I get that. What I’m wondering is what that’s gonna do to you. You gonna be able to live with this?”

“Absolutely.” He looked off into the distance. “Should’ve done it years ago. And maybe that’s what I can’t live with.” His eyes met Undertaker’s.

“Guess I knew eventually it’d come to this. Wasn’t sure you were ready before. Guess you are now.”

Blood nodded. “Guess I am.”

“The world seems simple to you, but when you’re President of an MC,” his thumb pointed back to himself, “very few choices are simple. I’m still not sold on you going in there.”

“I’m not afraid to face him.”

“You’re not afraid of anyone. Maybe this time you should be. He’s a powerful man in this town, and that place of his is a fortress.”

“If I die, I die.”

“The club needs you. I need you.”

“The Dead got along fine before I came. Dead will be fine when I’m gone.”

“Your brothers need you. You were born for MC life.”

“It’s not so simple anymore.”

“Ah, Cat.” Undertaker nodded. “Women have a way of complicating things.”

“Yeah, they do, I’m finding out.

Undertaker smiled. “And the sister?”

“Gotta get her out of there.”

“You’ve got a bunch of brothers at your back for that.”

“No. I need to be the one who goes in there.”

“Not alone, you’re not.”

“I’m going alone.”

“The hell you are. You’ve got brothers for a reason.”

“He’s mine!”

“Yeah, he is. But you don’t go alone.”

“We done?” Blood bit out.

Undertaker nodded once. “Yeah.”

***

After Blood slammed out of the room, Undertaker looked at Mooch and Sandman. “Come up with a plan to get into that compound—one that takes in the possibility of Blood going off half-cocked on his own and needing backup.”

Mooch nodded. “Anything else?”

“Yeah, make sure whatever you come up with”—he lifted his chin to the door Blood had just exited—“doesn’t end up getting him or the girl killed.”

Mooch grinned. “You don’t ask for much, do you?”