Page 9

Fury

Exiting the elevator, I stormed over to my door when I heard Vicious behind me. “I heard what happened.”

“Payne has a big mouth,” I grumbled, walking into my penthouse.

“What are you going to do?”

“I am not going to do anything. You are going to call your old friends and find a way to make this shit disappear before Montana leads this damn club into a fucking war.”

“Can’t do that, brother,” Vicious stated, standing his ground. “Said it before. Not going to risk my family because those two fucking idiots can’t play nice together.”

“Then we’re screwed, ’cause thanks to Montana and his big fat mouth, he just pitted the two clubs against each other,” I snipped. “I swear to fucking God, Vicious, I will take my girls and fucking run before I go up against Reaper. Got love for Montana, but Reaper scares the living hell out of me. The man doesn’t quit. I don’t even know if he knows the meaning of quit, and don’t even get me started on the rest of that club.”

Vicious smirked. “Yeah, they are a rare breed.”

“And you are just like them.”

“Marriage tamed me.”

“The fuck it did.” I grinned, just as someone knocked on the door.

Payne walked in, with Rage and Torment behind him. All three men stood in my living room, looking to me for answers. I knew what they wanted to hear, but I couldn’t say the words.

Instead, I asked, “Where is Storm?”

“Refusing to answer his fucking phone. Malice and Silver are riding out there now. Gotta say, Fury, this is one fucked-up mess,” Payne admitted.

“Is it true?” Rage asked. “Did he really say that shit?”

“Yeah, brother.” I nodded. “He did.”

“What the fuck was he thinking?” Torment asked.

“He wasn’t.” Vicious chuckled, taking a seat. “This is Montana Stone we’re talking about. The man doesn’t think.”

“Mercy is with Prez, trying to talk some sense into him,” Payne added.

“He’d have better luck talking to Reaper,” Vicious admitted.

“Yeah, well.” Payne chuckled. “I think he’s next on Mercy’s list.”

“Got a call from an old battle buddy of mine who lives close enough to the action in California. According to him, Reaper has been lying low and spending time with his wife,” Rage said out of the blue.

“Funny you mentioned that,” Payne countered. “Because I too got a call from a former battle buddy, and he said Reaper was sending him and another club brother to Montana to start up the Golden Skulls chapter there. According to him, Reaper wants it up and running within the next six months. Full club too, prospects and all.”

Looking at Vicious, the man said nothing as he slowly hung his head and cursed, “Shit.”

“Vicious, you were a nomad for many years before patching into the Golden Skulls. You know better than the rest of us. What can we expect?” Torment asked, trying to be the logical one. Only problem with that, there was nothing logical about this situation. It was a clusterfuck of epic proportion, and if we didn’t defuse it fast, then we would all have bullseyes on our backs.

“If what your friend said is true, Payne, then Reaper is gearing up for something big. The Montana Chapter was nothing more than a vacation spot for the club. With the Tennessee Chapter already active, that would give him three chapters in distinct locations. Since the Soulless Sinners don’t have a chapter in Montana, it would give Reaper the logistical advantage. Plus, with the Sons of Hell connected by blood to the Tennessee Chapter, the only thing that makes sense is that Reaper is making a play for the table.”

“He can’t unseat Montana without empirical evidence of complicit wrongdoing,” I said as Vicious slowly looked up at me and firmly stated, “He doesn’t need the evidence.”

“What do you mean?” Rage asked.

“The blood pact.”

Shaking my head, I muttered, “Montana held up his end of the pact. He protected Remi. The table knows this.”

“You willing to bet your life on that, brother, because I’m not,” Vicious challenged. “You have to think of the blood pact like a contract, Fury. On one side, you have a club that entered into an agreement for the sole purpose of protection. On the other side, you have a club that agreed to help to save face. I don’t know about you, but in my opinion the contract was lopsided. Both men knew, and yet they still agreed. Why? Why would they both enter a blood pact knowing that neither side would uphold their end of the bargain?”

“Because if Reaper failed, then Montana could patch over the Golden Skulls,” Torment inferred.

“And if Montana failed?”

“Holy shit,” Rage cursed. “If Montana failed, then Reaper could unseat him and take control of the Biker Federation.”

“And if Reaper can do that?”

“Fuck!” I roared. “Reaper’s not just going after the seat at the table. He wants to sit at the head of the table!”

“Now you are thinking like Reaper,” Vicious stated. “Reaper’s only goal in life is to protect Remi, and the only way to do that is to control the underworld. To achieve that, he first needs to get past Montana and this club. And with blood ties to the Italian Mafia, the Russian Bratva, and the IRA, Reaper will get the votes.”

“But the vote has to be unanimous,” I clearly said. “There is no way the TRIAD or the Mexican Cartel will agree.”

“That’s true, but then again, Reaper can be very persuasive when the mood suits him; plus, he always keeps his promises. Can you say the same thing about Montana?”

No, I couldn’t.

“Hold up,” Payne interjected. “What if we can prove the clubs are connected? Remember what Pippen and Sypher said. What if we can prove they are right? Would that change anything?”

“All it would do is pit both presidents against each other,” Torment groaned, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Because only one can sit in the seat.”

“Yep, and I don’t see either giving that up.”

“So, we’re back to square one then.”

“Vicious, call Reaper,” I ordered.

“I can’t call him. I don’t know how many times I need to say that. I can’t be the one to call him.”

Blinking, as something finally clicked into place, I muttered, “But I can.”

“What?” Rage asked.

“I can call him. I’m the Sergeant at Arms of the club. Other than Montana, only Mercy or I can reach out to another president. Why the fuck didn’t I think of that sooner?”

Reaching for my phone, I stopped and looked at Vicious.

“I don’t know his number,” I admitted as my phone rang.

Looking down at my phone, I saw an unlisted number.

Frowning, I connected the call and said, “Hello?”

“We know who you are.”

“We? You got a mouse in your pocket? Who the fuck is this?”

“You should have told us the truth. Now we know about you.”

“Glad to hear it. Thanks for calling,” I snarked, quickly disconnecting the call.

“Who the fuck was that?” Vicious asked.

“Wrong number.”

“Brother, maybe you should wait before you make that call,” Payne whispered. “If you call, you could inadvertently let Reaper know that shit isn’t right here. The fucker will get suspicious and send someone to investigate. Let’s just hold off until we know more.”

“Payne’s right, Fury,” Torment added. “As much as I hate this shit, we need to wait and see what Montana does next. We have to give our president time to do the right thing.”

“Fine,” I groaned, reluctantly agreeing. “In the meantime, you guys can help me with something else.”

Walking out of my living room and toward my office, I opened the door, allowing my brothers to see the piles of information.

“What the fuck is all this?” Torment asked, picking up a file and scanning through it.

“Everything that Shame was into. It’s a lot,” Vicious admitted.

“Holy fuck,” Rage gasped, holding up a photo. “Is this who I think it is?”

“Yes,” Vicious grumbled.

“Does Reaper know she’s alive?”

“Not sure.”

Rubbing the back of my neck, I nodded. “There’s more. I learned at the meeting today that Shame was secretly meeting with Nolan Kelley. I want to know why.”

“Jesus fuck, Fury.” Payne sighed, holding up another photo. “What the fuck was Shame into?”

“That’s what we’re gonna find out, and fast.”