Leave a Trail (Signal Bend #7)(91)

“What? Why? That’s nuts!”

Badger shook his head. “I can’t tell you that, babe. It’s important. It’s necessary. We’ll keep you safe.

That’s why you’ve been with Double A. But I gotta do this. We all do.”

“Badge…”

“This is the life, Adrienne. I can’t change that. If it’s too much, I understand. But before you wear my ink, you need to be sure. Think on it first.”

She didn’t need to think. She’d done plenty of thinking already. She leaned in and rested her head on his chest. “I am sure. I am. I’m scared, though.”

“Me, too. Me, too.” He folded her snugly in his strong arms.



CHAPTER TWENTY



When Isaac came into the clubhouse the morning of their meet with Becker, Show, Len, and Badger were already waiting and ready to go. That was Isaac’s way—impatient with waiting, he liked everybody to be ready when he got there. So Badger expected that the four of them would head out within a minute or two of Isaac’s arrival.

But he came in looking tired, the lines on his face deeper than usual, and he sat down at the bar. Badger caught Len’s eye—the SAA was surprised, too. All four men sat with their President, waiting to see what was slowing him down.

“I should call a meeting for this, but I don’t want to get in the way of the meet with Becker. Especially not now. So I’ll tell you, we’ll go, and we’ll bring it to the rest when we get back.”

Len nodded. “Yeah, boss. Okay.”

“Got word from Bart. And I talked to Hoosier, too. The Scorpions are broken. The mother charter is folding—what’s left of it. Sam, Ghost, Howler, three others—all dead, the rest wounded. Old ladies, Prospects, too. Shot down in their clubhouse last night.”

Show was first to react. “Fuckin’ Christ. Perros?”

“Who else? Don’t know yet if this is somebody actin’ on Sam the way Santaveria wants us to act on Becker and his crew, or if this is just the cartel straight-up. I’d say the former—call it ‘gang-on-gang violence,’ keep the Perro name out of it, and nobody gives much of a shit.”

Badger was about to give up trying to understand everything that was going on. Still, he had to ask. “But why? Sam was loyal to the cartel.”

“He was losing control of his West Coast.” Show shook his head as if disgusted by his own words.

Isaac nodded. “That’s what I’m thinking. We need to keep ourselves extra sharp, and we need to be careful how and where we gather as a whole. For all we know, Santaveria has the same hit out on us.”

Len put his hand on Isaac’s arm. “Boss, just in case, you and Show can’t both go on this meet now. We need the leaders separate. I’m tellin’ you. It’s too much risk.”

“I hear you, brother. It a big risk—you’re right. But we can’t bring all this to Becker unless the people he trusts are all there as one. You know that. He’s hearing this news, too, or he will be. He’s going to look twice at us—and he should. Santaveria wants us to take the Bulls out. What happened in Florida doesn’t change our play.”

Len kept trying. “What if he gave Becker the same order, but for us? Boss, this is a bad idea.”

When Isaac’s fist landed on the top of the bar, the whole thing shook. “Len, I f*ckin’ hear you. We’ll go in knowing that could be true. But what if that’s exactly the fear and mistrust Santaveria is trying to breed?

This is the crew for this run. The four of us.” He looked around. “Unless somebody’s backin’ out.”

Nobody was. Not even Len hesitated, despite his reservations. The four of them left the clubhouse, headed for their bikes, not knowing what the rest of the day would hold.



oOo



They met Becker in a small town in northeastern Oklahoma, about a hundred and fifty miles or so from Signal Bend. The Brazen Bulls had a long, steady history with the local Indian tribe, and they met the Horde on tribal lands, as safe as possible from law or other threat. They left their weapons with their bikes.

Becker approached the meet with caution. Badger felt like he could smell the tension among the eight men arrayed in front of the low, red brick building in which they would meet—a smell like sweat and fire.

Isaac stepped forward first, his hand extended. “Becker. Brother.”

“Are we?” Becker was only a few inches shorter than Isaac. He was older and wearier, with thick, silver hair and light eyes that always looked exhausted. He looked like a man tired of his life. He probably was— but he was a hardass, too. Stone cold.

Leaving his hand out, Isaac answered, “I hope so. We’ve been, a long time. Could use a brother. I think that’s true for you, too.”

Becker waited two more beats, then shook Isaac’s hand. “We need to be straight, then. Wide open.

Yeah?”

“Agreed.”

Becker nodded, and they all walked to the building. It was some kind of meeting hall, the space empty but for rolling racks of collapsed tables and chairs. One long table was set up, with eight metal chairs around it. As soon as they got inside, Becker turned to the group.

“I guess you know the news out of Jacksonville. In the interest of making everybody feel secure, I’m gonna ask that we all strip down, right here. To skin. Turn out our pockets, dump our boots.”