Page 37 of Jett

JETT

FIVE HOURS AFTER FINDINGMia’s head in a fucking box, Tank approaches me in the clubhouse bar. “Prez?”

“What?” I slur, slamming my drink on the counter.

“Trigger found the son of a bitch.”

“Where?”

“He’s at a house—a private compound, really—in Rozelle.”

“Are you shittin’ me? My wife was that close the whole fuckin’ time?”

“We don’t know he took her there, but it’s possible.”

“How many guards?”

“At least five on sight. Possibly more inside the house.”

“Fuck.” I take a deep breath in through my nose and hang my head between my forearms resting on the bar. “Who isn’t fuckin’ injured or dyin’ right now?”

“Killer’s still down for the count, I’ve got him on guard duty in the security tower, but everyone else is up to the task. We all want this son of a bitch dead.”

“We need enough left behind to protect our women and children.”

“I got it handled. Diesel, Country, and Grim are gonna sit this one out.”

“Alright. Tell everyone else we’re riding—” I shake my head, remembering that our bikes are fucked. “Tell them we’re leaving in two hours. I need you to find me another van. We’re the only goddamn motorcycle club without any fuckin’ bikes.”

“I got a guy who’ll have any vehicle we want here within the hour. I’ll give him a call.”

I nod. “And get that bitch Hannah to bring me some goddamn coffee.”

“You got it, Prez.”

Jesus. I need to sober up fast. I need to check on Raine, but not like this. Kick walks by and I reach out and grab his cut, pulling him toward me. “Go check on Raine.”

“Already on it, Prez. Indie, Ivy and Grim are in there now with her.”

“She okay?”