The Wild Wolf Pup (Zoe's Rescue Zoo #9)(115)
“Where are you going?”
“The bell rang,” she answers, loud enough for the neighbors to hear.
“Sit,” I bark, standing and pointing back to the couch.
The one good thing about this hearing loss thing is I can’t hear her curse me under her breath as she reluctantly sits down with a huff. Guess who has trouble sitting still too? We’re fucked.
I pull the door open and find Blackie looking all sorts of haggard on my door step, running his fingers through his hair.
“Shit,” I mutter.
“Yeah,” he agrees, holding up a pad and pencil. “We need to talk,” he drawls, waving the pad.
“Cute,” I growl, knocking the pad out of his hand before spinning back around and leaving his ass on the front porch.
As I head for the kitchen, Reina says something I can’t make out and Blackie slams the door. I know he slams it because the whole fucking house vibrates. It’s true what they say, when one of your senses fail you, the others work overtime.
I grab a beer from the fridge, lean against the counter and pop the top off the bottle. I’m guzzling the ale when Blackie stomps through the kitchen and lays his pad on the kitchen island. He shrugs his jacket off and drapes it over the back of the stool, twisting his neck from side to side before he rolls up his sleeves and grabs a pen. Angrily I watch the ink bleed onto the paper as I drain the rest of the bottle down my throat. Lifting his eyes to glare at me, he throws down the pen and pushes the pad toward me.
“Read,” he says, and by the way his jaw tightens I know it’s not a request but a demand.
Holding his gaze, I push off the cabinets and walk to the island. I grab the pad and see the three underlined words.
THE FINAL RIDE.
Arching an eyebrow, I slide the pad back to him.
“What kind of bullshit is this?”
He grabs the pad, starts scribbling words but I lean over the island and knock the pen out of his hand.
“Talk slow and loud,” I demand.
“Fine,” he starts, sighing heavily. He explains our situation, some words I catch others are difficult, and he uses the pad to jot them down. Piecing together both, I understand what the three underlined words mean. No one expects us to prevail from this, in fact, I’d bet the house the Corrupt Bastards are confident we won’t even retaliate because they have left us on the balls of our asses.
“I rented six rooms at the Motel Six for Stryker and the boys who are temporarily staying there until we figure out what we will do with the Dog Pound. I can’t get a look at the books and where our numbers are because Pipe is in bad way. I don’t know how long I will keep him at bay. The man is thirsty for blood and doesn’t give two shits about consequences. I need to get this plan in motion quickly or else he will tear into the Corrupt Bastards with no one behind him.”
“Riggs can get you hard copies of the club’s finances, make sure you get him put a call into the insurance company. It will take time to get everything up and running so you will need a temporary place to congregate. Pops’ shooting range will do for now, and while your ass is in Jersey, you will need to pay a visit to our friends at the Bergen County charter.”
“I was thinking that,” Blackie says. “I was going to see if they’d lend us their pipes.”
“Fuck that, we’re not showing up at Charlie’s door with a bunch of loner bikes. I was working on a gun deal with Rocco Spinelli, go to him tell him the deal is off the table unless he comes up with the money now, and you replace our pipes with that money.”
“So why am I going to Bergen County?”
“Black, they blew us up, with every intent to wipe us off the grid. Who you going to ride with? Riggs? You two going to be the dynamic duo? You need more man power. You want to avenge this shit then you need an army or this final ride will be our final ride and not theirs. You need to roll up to those gates in Boston, deep and wide, headlights for miles.”
I watch as he absorbs my words and nods his head as he takes the pen and makes a list of our men. He’s first on the list, then Riggs, Stryker, Cobra, Deuce and five prospects.
“Pipe,” I add, watching as he hesitates before writing his name.
“I’m worried about him,” he admits.
“I’ve known Pipe for many years,” I start, taking the pen and circling my Sergeant of Arms’ name with the ink. “That motherfucker will be your most lethal weapon.” I cross my arms against my chest and glare at him. “Call Jones and tell him we’re done, not to expect any pay offs. I don’t trust that prick Brantley and we can’t be sure he doesn’t know Jones is on our payroll. You rebuild and you bide your time, make everyone believe what they want. Charlie didn’t do this to avenge Boots’ death he did it to push through our streets. Let him think he can. Let the whole fucking world think Jack Parrish and the Satan’s Knights are finished.”
“Then we get them,” Blackie confirms.
“Then we fucking get them and we hit them hard. They didn’t just go after our club; they went after our families too, no one is safe. Not this time. This time we don’t give a fuck who is innocent and who isn’t. You go in guns blazing, vicious and hungry. When you start to feel your conscience creeping up on you, remember the faces of everyone in that room before the bomb went off. Remember that feeling in your gut, that hopeless feeling when you knew you wouldn’t be able to get to Lacey quick enough, and you fucking shut down that little voice in your head and you do what has to be done. You hear me?”