Page 53

Reaper

Taking my seat, I said nothing; Montana did the same.

Leaning back in my chair, I began, “I get you don’t like me. Feeling is mutual, but you have a fucking problem, and if you don’t get your head out of your ass, your house is going to come tumbling down around you. The way I see it is you have two choices. You can go it alone and lose everything or you can accept my help.”

“I don’t need anything from you.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. I’ve been where you are right now, Montana, and the shit is going to keep piling up until you’re drowning in it. This shit with the Trick Pony isn’t going away. Someone out there knows this club’s secrets.”

“That’s my business.”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s biker business because, in case you’ve forgotten, you sit at the head of the table. When the biker world learns what your Pops was into, there will be a war, and you know it.”

“Who’s gonna tell them?” Montana sneered.

“My God,” I groaned. “You can’t be that fucking stupid. You know damn well shit always finds a way. Look at what happened with my club. No matter what I did, everyone still learned the truth. You can’t keep this shit quiet, Montana. You need help.”

“I don’t need anything from you,” the man scoffed. “You have been nothing but a pain in my ass from the moment I met you. I wish I’d never made that fucking blood pact with you.”

“Well, you did,” I snarked. “And I will hold you to it until the day you fucking die, and if you don’t wise the fuck up, that’s going to happen faster than you think.”

“Don’t threaten me, Reaper.”

“Not a fucking threat. It’s reality. Your Pops put you between a rock and a hard place. You need to decide which side you’re on, ‘cause the longer you keep playing with your dick, the deeper you’re going to bury yourself. And, brother, I won’t be able to save you.”

“I don’t need fucking saving.”

There was no talking to him.

I knew that now.

He was still of the mind he could fix this mess without help.

Getting to my feet, I sighed. “Alright, Montana, we’ll play it your way, but let me be crystal clear. If anything happens to me or mine, I will take over and you will not like how I handle things. Just know that my door is open if you ever get that stick out of your ass, because even I know it’s better to work with the Devil you know than the one you don’t.”

Leaving him sitting in his boardroom, I headed to the main room and saw everyone gathered around, talking, smiling, and getting along.

This was how shit was supposed to be and because of one pissed off, angry fucker, he was going to fuck it all up and cause a war he had no hope of winning.

“Max?”

Blinking, I smiled at my woman and said, “Let’s go home, baby.”

“What about Storm?”

Looking at Delany, I said for all to hear, “Legacy, tell your man he has my blessing. Welcome home, Delany.”

The woman smiled, and Solomon grinned happily.

“Reaper, can I have a minute?” Mercy asked.

Nodding, I quickly kissed my wife and followed the VP of the Soulless Sinners down a hall and into his office. Closing the door behind him, I waited while the man gathered his thoughts.

I liked Mercy. He reminded me a lot of Ghost. The man was level-headed and thought rationally when Montana didn’t.

Too bad fucknuts didn’t utilize him more often.

“He’s not thinking clearly. His world was just turned upside down. You need to give him time.”

“He doesn’t have time, Mercy. Someone out there knows the truth. You heard what Sypher and Pippen said. I can’t keep this genie in the bottle.”

“No, but you can help him.”

“I tried. He doesn’t want my help.”

“Try again,” Mercy asked. “This club is all he has. His family has imploded. They want nothing to do with him. He’s all alone, and thanks to George, he’s about to pay for his father’s sins. You, of all people, know the impact that can have on a man like Montana. He won’t survive it.”

“I don’t know what else I can do, Mercy. He has to be the one to ask for help. I can’t just take over. The table won’t let me.”

“If you were sitting at the table, you could.”

Narrowing my eyes at the man, I asked, “What are you saying?”

“With everything going on, Montana can’t do both. Take the seat from him.”

“You want me to challenge Montana for the seat at the table?”

“Yes,” Mercy firmly said. “The only way to save him is to take everything away from him.”

The conversation with Mercy troubled me. If he only knew how right he was. The problem was, I wasn’t in a position to challenge anyone. Biker rules were clear. At the moment, I only had three clubs, one of which was barely operational. Hell, the last time the Montana club even gathered was when Ghost and Ari needed a place to hide out in the mountains and that was years ago. Then shit kicked off with the Society and the Montana club went underground.

For me to challenge Montana for his seat at the table, three things needed to happen. First, I needed five chapters. That in itself wasn’t hard to do, but I never had aspirations of expanding the Golden Skulls. I preferred a smaller club. I already had dealt with enough drama, I wasn’t in the mood to pile on, and the bigger the Golden Skulls got the more drama would ensue. Second, I needed solid evidence that showed Montana either failed or went back on his word. That one was going to be tricky considering, as far as I knew, the fucker had kept his word. Trying to prove otherwise would be tough because there was no evidence to support that claim. Then finally, I would need to prove that Montana’s actions caused harm or the life of a member of my club.

The fact was the Soulless Sinners Motorcycle Club vastly outnumbered the Golden Skulls. Even if I had all the evidence in the world to challenge Montana, he could rally his clubs and within days, wipe my clubs off the face of the earth. That was something I couldn’t allow to happen. What I needed was a solid, surefire way to challenge Montana without him or his clubs retaliating.

“I can see those wheels turning,” Ghost said, taking a seat next to me while we all waited to board the plane home. “What are you thinking?”

“Mercy asked me to challenge Montana for the seat.”

Ghost chuckled. “Never saw you as a diplomat, Reaper.”

Shaking my head, I replied, “Because I’m not. I don’t have the patience for that shit.”

“That’s for damn sure,” Bullseye spoke up, taking a seat across from me, as did Massacre. “You don’t have the evidence. What you have is damning, but not enough to challenge him.”

“That’s not true,” Ghost said cryptically, turning to look at me. “You have all the evidence you need. The question is, will you use it?”

Frowning, I was about to question when he looked over his shoulder before adding, “You have a trump card, Max. I saw the evidence.”

“What are you two talking about?” Bullseye asked.

Sighing, I looked at Bullseye and Massacre and said, “Ace isn’t missing.”

“What?”

Ghost nodded. “Fucker showed up on my doorstep the other day out of the blue. Barely recognized the asshole.”

“Why Oklahoma?” Massacre asked, confused. “I mean, Ace could have gone anywhere. Why go to Oklahoma?”

“Because I’m currently a private citizen.”

“You are, but Ari isn’t,” Bullseye stated. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but Aunt Roxy and Uncle Moonshine claimed Ari as their blood daughter. She wears the Golden Mark, Ghost. It won’t take the FEDs long to figure out where Ace went. You need to move him.”

“Already did.” The man grinned. “I may not wear the cut anymore, but I still know how the game is played.”

“Where is my cousin?” Bullseye growled.

“Hiding in the one place no one will ever look for him.”

Bullseye huffed but said nothing.

I got he didn’t like being kept in the dark about someone he cared about, but even Dylan could accept the fewer people that knew the truth, the safer Ace was.

“What do you want me to do, Reaper, ‘cause shit is about to get fucking real fast?” Ghost asked.

Right now, there were too many moving parts. I wasn’t sure about shit until the cards fell in place. Until then, I wasn’t willing to bet on anything.

Leaning forward, I said, “We stay the course. Sypher and Phantom need more time decoding the files Pops left us. That has to be our primary objective. As for the other shit, unless it directly involves us, we leave it alone.”

“What about those ghost files popping up in the underworld?” Massacre asked.

“Not our problem. If someone out there wants to play Russian roulette with the table, then that’s on them. That has nothing to do with us.”

“What ghost files?” Ghost asked.

Sighing, I said, “Files have been dropping all over. Every faction in the underworld has received them. Every file is unique, but every file contains incriminating evidence against the receiver, and if released into the real world, it’s enough evidence to put them away for life.”

“Have you received anything?” Ghost inquired.

“My sins are public knowledge. I have nothing to hide.”

“And Sinclair?” Massacre asked, then added, “Gotta say, brother, I don’t trust the man. There’s something off about him. Can’t put my finger on it, but I don’t trust the man.”

“Me either,” Bullseye agreed.

Smirking, I shook my head. “Don’t have to like him to work with him. The man is singular, driven, and won’t let anyone or anything impede what he wants.”

“What does he want?” Ghost questioned.

Turning to my best friend, I replied, “Thena Hartley.”

“Popeye’s daughter?” Bullseye frowned. “Why in the hell does that woman’s name keep popping up?”

“I don’t know, but we’re going to find out why.”