Page 18

CHAPTER 18

Kilo

I walked into the clubhouse, nodding at Hype as I walked past. He was busy restocking the liquor behind the bar. Most days I would stop to give him a hand, but I was on a mission. The other guys were already busy outside. Bolo was mostly in charge, per Ruck, on the building projects, so he was getting everybody started. I went down the hallway and knocked on a door.

“Yeah.”

Stepping into the office, I went and flopped down in the chair on the other side of Ruck’s desk. I wiped a hand over my mouth, wondering how I was even going to start this conversation.

Ruck’s brows rose as he watched me. “You look like shit,” he told me.

I’d been pissed to find Camila gone this morning, but she’d left me a text telling me she was at home. I couldn’t say I was surprised. She’d been dealing with heavy shit over the last few years and having to do so alone. I expected she’d pull away from me, just not quite as quickly as she did. “I’ve got a problem.”

Ruck leaned back in his chair, watching me. “How bad?”

“FUBAR’d.”

His expression turned grim. FUBAR was an acronym. It meant fucked up beyond all repair. “Go get the officers. We’re having church.”

“Now?” I asked.

He studied my face for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah. Now.”

I shoved out of the chair and blew out a breath as I went back outside. This wasn’t something I was going to be able to handle on my own. And I sure as fuck wasn't going to trust the feds to take care of my girl and her family. This was the kind of shit I needed my family for. “Bolo,” I called out.

He straightened and looked over at me. “What?”

“Church.”

“Now?”

“Yeah,” I said, echoing Ruck’s words. “Now.”

“Well, fucking Christ,” he said, holding his hands up in a what the hell movement. “OD!” he called out as Overdrive walked past with some lumber.

“What?”

“Church.”

“Now?”

I chuckled as Bolo spread the word. As a group, the officers started walking toward me. Bolo turned, walking backward and pointed at Code. “Don’t touch the fucking saw,” he ordered.

Code scoffed. “I know how to use the damn saw, Bolo.”

“I don’t want to deal with you cutting your fucking arm off, Kid. Don’t. Touch. It.”

Code shook his head, but he took the cigarette that Merc handed over and they went and sat in the folding chairs in the shade. Hype was already walking out to meet them. They’d wait until we were back to get started again.

“What’s up?” Overdrive asked me.

“Nothing good,” I warned.

“Shit. Now you’ve got me curious.”

We all piled into the room we used for church and took our seats. Ruck was already there waiting, his arms crossed over his chest. He arched a brow my way once everyone settled. “Go ahead.”

I huffed out a breath, rubbing my hand over my hair. “I found out last night that Camila’s in witness protection.”

There was silence as they all stared at me in surprise.

“No shit?” Overdrive finally asked.

“She saw Alec Kruzman have her father killed.”

“Fucking hell,” Relay said. Most would think that as our chaplain he wouldn’t cuss. Which would make the rest of us laugh. He’d only taken on the role of chaplain in the military because it’d been needed. He was a ruthless killer in the right circumstances, just like the rest of us.

“Alec fucking Kruzman?” Strike asked. He let out a low whistle. He’d worked in intelligence while in the military. He knew a lot of shit. Secrets that many high-powered people wouldn’t want getting out. “How the hell did her dad get tangled up with that piece of shit?”

Drifter also swore when he heard the name. He was responding to what the rest of us also knew. If Strike knew who Kruzman was, then the fucker was big time. This wasn’t going to be an easy task. Drifter had taken over as our Road Captain after his last deployment a few months ago, since I’d been promoted to Sergeant at Arms. That was his last and now he was out of the service like the rest of us

“Apparently he did Kruzman’s books. Camila doesn’t know why he was killed. The FBI assumes he made some mistake, but I’m not so sure. Camila agreed to testify against him,” I continued on. “When he found her, they put her in witness protection.”

“Which I’m guessing didn’t do shit,” Strike commented.

I shook my head. “He’s found them twice more after that first time, even with witness protection.”

“Which means he’s paying people on the inside to find them,” Ruck said.

“Yeah, that’s what I'm thinking too,” I replied with a nod. “There’s just something bothering me.”

“What’s that?” Ruck asked.

“From what she told me, it sounds like he’s had the opportunity to kill her. That first time, he got close to her. But he didn’t take her out. Why wouldn’t he if he didn’t want her testifying?”

“Good question,” Relay said with a frown. “If he’s found her three times it would have been easy enough for him to have a sniper just wait for her to come out of her house during one of those slip ups. Or a driver run her off the road, anything really.”

“Maybe he wants her alive,” Flir offered.

“Why though?” I asked.

No one said anything as we all thought about it.

“There’s something else he wants,” Strike, our club secretary, said with a shrug. “Nothing else makes sense.”

“Hmmm,” I replied. I’d have to talk to Camila about the night her father died again. We were missing something.

“If he’s got people on the inside, it means it’s only a matter of time before he finds her again,” Overdrive said, getting us back on track, a grim look on his face.

Flir shook his head. “What kind of asshole goes after women?”

“Oh, he doesn’t give a shit if it’s women...kids... Kruzman would put a bullet in his own mother to gain the upper hand,” Strike sneered. “He’s got heavy connections with the cartels.”

“How heavy?” Bolo asked.

“Been working with them for over a decade. He helps them here in the U.S. and they give him money, manpower, and anything else he needs.”

Ruck looked over at me. “So, what's the plan?”

I almost laughed. Because this was the reason Ruck was our president. If he heard that there was danger he wanted to know how he could help face it, head on. He didn’t run, or hide, from a fight.

“Hang on,” Bolo said. He was our enforcer, not to mention a former Army Ranger. The guy was made for battle. He lived for this shit, so I was surprised to hear him put a halt to things. “Before we do this,” he said, meeting my gaze, “I want to hear him say it.”

I groaned and tilted my head back to stare at the ceiling. The other men sitting at the table chuckled.

“He’s got a point,” Relay added. “Not one of us has a problem with this, but if we’re going to kill her enemies, you really should have to say it.”

They were all grinning at me. Feral fucking smiles as they waited for me to seal my goddamn fate. “Camila is my old lady.”

The epic amount of abuse and shit talking that proceeded to batter me was indescribable, but I took it all with a grin and mostly good humor.

“Alright, enough,” Ruck finally called out. He scanned the faces at the table. “So. Thoughts?”

“We could go on the offensive,” Bolo offered, face sober once more now that we were focusing on serious shit once again.

“Kill him, his men, the cartel’s men, and anyone connected to their business,” Relay added. “Go so burnt fucking Earth that no one dares to even utter the name Camila again.”

We all stared at him. There was a slightly deranged look in his eyes.

“You scare me sometimes, Bro,” Overdrive told him, scooting his chair a bit away.

Relay just wrapped an arm around Overdrive’s shoulders and dragged him back in closer. The chair skidded across the floor. “I know.”

Ruck shook his head. “That’s an...option. But that gives Kruzman the home court advantage. We could wait, let him bring the fight to us. Set it up so that we have the upper hand.”

“Means we wouldn’t know when he was coming,” Flir pointed out.

“Maybe, maybe not,” Ruck said. “I could get a hold of Cypher. See if he could use his contacts to do some digging for us.”

Cypher was the president of the Berserker’s Rage MC in Wyoming. He also owned a security firm. He’d poached the brightest minds and deadliest killers from the military and feds and brought them into his club and onto his teams. It was definitely a plus to have the Berserkers in our corner. Just like it was a plus to have the Viking’s Rampage guys.

“We could call Lockout, too,” I said. He was the president of the Viking’s Rampage MC in Tucson. “Maybe they’d be willing to send some guys over once shit hits the fan. Help protect the women.”

“I’ll make the calls,” Ruck told us. “Everyone on board with this?”

The choruses of ‘yeah’ were instant and loud. No one was going to back down from this and leave me to figure out how to take care of my girl on my own. “Thanks,” I told them.

Ruck didn’t bother to respond to that because a thank you wasn’t really needed. We were family. This was what you did for family. “Strike. What do we have to look forward to?”

“He’ll send sicarios first.”

“What the fuck is a sicario?” Drifter asked. He’d been quiet up until now.

“Hit men for the cartel,” I answered before Strike could.

“And if we kill them?” Ruck asked.

“He’ll send everything he has,” Strike said with a shrug.

“We could use that to our advantage,” I pointed out. “Take out the sicarios, then hole up in a place of our choosing and wait for the rest.”

“Looks like we’re heading back to the White Mountains,” Overdrive said with a grin.

“I don’t think we can use the cabin again,” I said. “Isla wouldn’t mind, but we probably burned the spot. Anyone who knew about the fight that happened there would have spread that information far and wide.” Isla was one of the Tucson guys’ old lady. She was an assassin who we helped out at the beginning of the summer. Had a hell of a fire fight at her cabin in the White Mountains.

“We’ll come up with something,” Ruck announced, “but we have some time. So, let’s think this over. Make a concrete plan. First, I need to call Cypher and Lockout. Then we’ll finish up the mission planning.”

We all went back to working outside after that. It felt good to throw myself into manual labor to alleviate some of the frustration that was building inside me. I wanted to go fucking kill Kruzman. Right now. End the threat to Camila, but that would be suicide. The fucker was too well guarded for that kind of shit. So I had to wait. Plan. And eventually I’d put a bullet through his head. Before he died he’d come to realize he’d done this to himself by coming after my old lady.