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“Just like they always do,” Pop confirmed. “The place should be empty except for our visitors.”
“And whoever they brought.”
Pop ignored that and continued. “Tank and Bull are around back. Plus a few of the older prospects, including Skinner, who’s proven ready to be a fully patched member. Me and Ritz are the only ones going in the front.” He glanced out the front window at Ritz who was still straddling his bike and smoking a cigarette, looking completely at ease. Except if you knew him, like I did, and then you’d notice the hard set of his jaw. “They think the club turned. I had Bull and Ritz on speaker with me for the last call. You were there; it was believable.”
“Better get going.” Bear advised.
“Yep.” Pop threw open his door and pushed out before slamming the door behind him. We watched Ritz slowly dismount and throw his unfinished cigarette to the ground, crushing it with his heavy black boot before falling into step beside Pop.
I watched them walk across the parking lot and repeated, “Something feels off.”
“We thought of everything.”
“Never think of everything when my father’s involved.”
“We need to end this.” Bear said.
“We still doing it for the right reasons?” I asked the question that had been nagging me recently.
Bear’s head jerked in my direction. “You having second thoughts, brother?”
I shook my head. “About my father, no. About the message this sends to the club we’re trying to build, maybe.”
“We knew even having the idea for a peaceful club would come with its challenges. The Widows are the challenge, always have been.”
“I don’t want to be him.” I admitted.
“Then don’t be.” Bear replied easily.
If only it were that simple.
“Here we go,” Bear said, and my head snapped back toward the window to watch Pop and Ritz make their way back across the parking lot toward us.
Bear held up handcuffs, and I turned so he could snap them onto my wrists. He handed me a second pair and turned so I could snap them on his. They looked real, but they weren’t. They had a quick release button Skinner designed so we could just tug our wrists and be free. We just needed it to look real while we walked in. Becs had done our makeup to look like our bruises from the beating the Sinners supposedly delivered were still there, but healing.
Bear was right; we’d thought of everything.
My mind knew that.
My gut was screaming that we hadn’t.
“What are the fucking chances they shoot us when we walk in?” Bear asked from beside me.
“They won’t. They want us as trophies to take back. They want to hand out the punishment. Shooting us would be way too easy.”
What no one except the few of us here today knew was that Pike was laying up on the hill behind the clubhouse with a clear shot through a small back window he’d scoped out. According to Cam, he was the best sniper, and I knew the story of him taking out his own enemy while that enemy was surrounded by FBI agents. He never hit an agent, but he hit his enemy in the back of the head with one shot.
Bear called him and told him the plan, and Pike offered up his services with the promise not to tell his best friend Cam or the Dimarco family that had essentially adopted him after he lost his own. He proved his friendship and his loyalty to both Bear and the whole fucking club with one offer.
We would never forget it.
The back door beside me opened abruptly, and at almost the same moment, Bear’s did as well. Pop grabbed my arm. “Can’t talk, they’re watching, and will know we’re chatting.”
“How many?” Bear asked as we were yanked from our seats.
Ritz lowered his head and pushed Bear around the back of the vehicle, only whispering the answer when he rounded the back to stand beside me and Pop. “Three inside. Have a feeling there are more outside.”
“Fuck.” I cursed softly.