Page 55 of Rogue's Path

Stolen Valor

Rogue

“They showed up.” I watch the video feed as the Birds of Prey Motorcycle Club pulls inside of our gates.

“You know, at one time, they were our allies. The boys used to play together at rallies.”

Havoc’s right. I know he is. “But we’ve been enemies since the new leader took over.” That coup was bloody and brought the club into dangerous territory.

“The founding members aren’t our enemies. And there are rules for these things. Nothing will happen during the funeral.”

Their prez, Reaper, steps off his bike.

I’d happily shoot him right now. “Even his bike offends me.”

“There’s no accounting for taste. That thing is hideous.” Havoc stands up, walking closer to the wall of televisions.

The visible welds make me cringe. “It’s like he made it himself.”

“You know we’re going to have to go out there and welcome him.”

In theory. “I’m sure there’s something else I could be doing while you take care of that little task.”

“Not a chance. I need you by my side to make sure I don’t kill him.”

But who’s going to make sure I don’t? “I’d prefer to clean the bathrooms with a toothbrush.”

Havoc laughs. “Wouldn’t we all? How are we on security?”

“Only the common areas are open. All the private rooms and the labyrinth are locked up tight with a guard schedule to cover them 24/7 except during the funeral. The visible camera and invisible ones are all being backed up every two minutes to a separate server in the bunker.”

“And if the Birds of Prey decide to break the rules during the funeral?”

Oh, would that make my day. “All doors will be locked during the funeral. Since we built this clubhouse to withstand just about anything short of a direct hit of an atomic bomb, they shouldn’t be able to breach much more than the gates.” Even those look like fancy chain-link fences, but each link is reinforced, and the pilings holding them up go down twenty-five feet. A tank wouldn’t make it through the fence easily. “We’re covered.” But then, Havoc knows that.

“Reaper is so much like his father, just having him inside the gates…”

His father was the lowest of the low. Their club trafficked people, drugs, and guns. Now we don’t have a problem selling guns. We do have a problem arming radical groups. But then again, we don’t just sell to anyone. If you’re getting weapons from us, we’re going to know who you are, regardless of who you say you are. “Rhys’ father should still be the Birds of Prey’s prez.”

“Agreed.”

There’s a knock on the door, which is never good on days like this.

“Come in.” Havoc shouts.

Bishop strides in. “I need to talk to you about one of the tattoos.”

That gets our attention right away.

Havoc spins around. “Which one?”

“The ARMY one. There was something off about it. I’ve seen hundreds of them over the years, but never once have I seen this one. So I reached out to an ARMY buddy.”

He shared a dead man’s tattoo with an ARMY buddy? “Bishop.”

“Yeah, I know. But I was careful. I sketched it out. And I trust this guy with my life. Literally, we served together in special forces for years. General Corlan—“

“General?” Havoc’s voice gets hard.