Page 814 of The Tempted
Sitting still, lying low—it’s not me. But what choice do I have? If I want to hear that baby’s cry I need to heal and as much as revenge is a priority, hearing that baby means more. Seeing Reina through the last leg of her pregnancy, making sure she obeys her doctor’s orders and stays on bed rest—that’s my fucking job.
That doesn’t mean I will allow the Corrupt Bastards to reign over my city and it sure as shit doesn’t mean I will let them get away with fucking with my club. That tear drop sporting prick will pay for what he’s done. He will cry, bleed and wish his mother swallowed him.
Reina stands from the couch, jolting me away from the sadistic thoughts of revenge and how I will cut Charlie’s balls off and feed them to whatever whore is currently sucking his dick.
“Where are you going?”
“The bell rang,” she answers, loud enough for the neighbors to hear.
“Sit,” I bark, standing and pointing back to the couch.
The one good thing about this hearing loss thing is I can’t hear her curse me under her breath as she reluctantly sits down with a huff. Guess who has trouble sitting still too? We’re fucked.
I pull the door open and find Blackie looking all sorts of haggard on my door step, running his fingers through his hair.
“Shit,” I mutter.
“Yeah,” he agrees, holding up a pad and pencil. “We need to talk,” he drawls, waving the pad.
“Cute,” I growl, knocking the pad out of his hand before spinning back around and leaving his ass on the front porch.
As I head for the kitchen, Reina says something I can’t make out and Blackie slams the door. I know he slams it because the whole fucking house vibrates. It’s true what they say, when one of your senses fail you, the others work overtime.
I grab a beer from the fridge, lean against the counter and pop the top off the bottle. I’m guzzling the ale when Blackie stomps through the kitchen and lays his pad on the kitchen island. He shrugs his jacket off and drapes it over the back of the stool, twisting his neck from side to side before he rolls up his sleeves and grabs a pen. Angrily I watch the ink bleed onto the paper as I drain the rest of the bottle down my throat. Lifting his eyes to glare at me, he throws down the pen and pushes the pad toward me.
“Read,” he says, and by the way his jaw tightens I know it’s not a request but a demand.
Holding his gaze, I push off the cabinets and walk to the island. I grab the pad and see the three underlined words.
THE FINAL RIDE.
Arching an eyebrow, I slide the pad back to him.
“What kind of bullshit is this?”
He grabs the pad, starts scribbling words but I lean over the island and knock the pen out of his hand.
“Talk slow and loud,” I demand.
“Fine,” he starts, sighing heavily. He explains our situation, some words I catch others are difficult, and he uses the pad to jot them down. Piecing together both, I understand what the three underlined words mean. No one expects us to prevail from this, in fact, I’d bet the house the Corrupt Bastards are confident we won’t even retaliate because they have left us on the balls of our asses.
“I rented six rooms at the Motel Six for Stryker and the boys who are temporarily staying there until we figure out what we will do with the Dog Pound. I can’t get a look at the books and where our numbers are because Pipe is in bad way. I don’t know how long I will keep him at bay. The man is thirsty for blood and doesn’t give two shits about consequences. I need to get this plan in motion quickly or else he will tear into the Corrupt Bastards with no one behind him.”
“Riggs can get you hard copies of the club’s finances, make sure you get him put a call into the insurance company. It will take time to get everything up and running so you will need a temporary place to congregate. Pops’ shooting range will do for now, and while your ass is in Jersey, you will need to pay a visit to our friends at the Bergen County charter.”
“I was thinking that,” Blackie says. “I was going to see if they’d lend us their pipes.”
“Fuck that, we’re not showing up at Charlie’s door with a bunch of loner bikes. I was working on a gun deal with Rocco Spinelli, go to him tell him the deal is off the table unless he comes up with the money now, and you replace our pipes with that money.”
“So why am I going to Bergen County?”
“Black, they blew us up, with every intent to wipe us off the grid. Who you going to ride with? Riggs? You two going to be the dynamic duo? You need more man power. You want to avenge this shit then you need an army or this final ride will beourfinal ride and not theirs. You need to roll up to those gates in Boston, deep and wide, headlights for miles.”
I watch as he absorbs my words and nods his head as he takes the pen and makes a list of our men. He’s first on the list, then Riggs, Stryker, Cobra, Deuce and five prospects.
“Pipe,” I add, watching as he hesitates before writing his name.
“I’m worried about him,” he admits.
