A black SUV is parked near the entrance, a suit leaning against it. It’s not until we dismount that he looks up and shows us his face.
“Trouble,” I mutter, eyeing Hector.
He’s normally always suited up, looking like Wall Street in a world of leather and tattoos. But not today. Today, he’s a mess, a shell of the man who once stood by Camilla Sanchez’s side. Hiseyes are bloodshot, with visible veins crisscrossing the whites, giving him a weary appearance.
“Reaper,” he rasps, nodding at my VP with something that looks like respect.
“Creed…” I call out. “You’ve got company.”
Creed gets out of the truck, his face a mask of stone. He strides over with Winchester and Justice on either side of him. Hector waits, holding back words until Creed’s within striking distance. You can cut the tension with a knife.
Before Creed can speak, Hector holds up a hand. His voice is rough as he speaks, “They killed her.” He pinches his nose at the bridge and waggles a finger in Creed’s direction. “I don’t blame you.” Hector looks at Creed. “She couldn’t get over your rejection of her. Her pride was her downfall. What Camilla did, going against you, it shouldn’t have happened.” He shakes his head. “You cut the head off the snake…” Hector finally says, his voice hollow, “… but another will rise.”
“Is that right?” Creed asks.
“It won’t be me. You’ve thrown in with the Russians, and they only care about themselves.”
Creed says nothing. He crosses his arms over his chest and stares at Hector.
“The organization is already rallying. War’s coming.”
Creed frowns. “The Diablos picked the fight. We worked for you for years, and you betrayed us. Tried to force us out.” Creed points at his chest. “I nearly got killed, and for what? Because Camilla felt jilted?”
“You made her look weak. She felt she had to strike back at you.” Hector’s bloodshot gaze searches each of us. “But I’m not here to discuss the past.”
“Whyareyou here?” I ask.
Hector focuses on Creed. “You can’t trust the Russians, and you were right. You did work for us for years, and for years, wehad each other’s backs.”
“Until you tried to kill me.”
Hector waves a hand in the air. “It’s in the past. Your MC controls Jacksonville. Wewillrebuild, and when we do, you’ll have a decision to make.”
“And if we side with the Russians?” Creed asks.
Hector slightly shakes his head, walks to the driver’s side of his SUV, opens the door, and climbs in. Through the open window, he says, “I know you, Creed. You’ll do what’s best for the MC and your Devil.”
Hector starts the car, and we stand together as he drives away.
“What the fuck?” Reaper asks.
“Yeah, what the fuck?” I repeat.
“I think it’s Hector’s way of letting us know he wants to do business with us again.”
My eyebrows shoot up to my hairline. “Creed, you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me?”
Creed shrugs. “He’s a businessman, and he’s right… we do own the streets of Jacksonville.”
Reaper chuckles. “Yeah, and now we’re armed to the teeth to protect it.”
Creed grins. “We sure are, but we don’t need this much firepower. Winchester, reach out to the Irish and maybe the Khans. I see lots of green in our future.”
ChapterTwenty
Highway
The scent of beer, oil, and leather hits me hard as I enter the clubhouse. I’m on a mission. My eyes scan the room, cutting through the haze of cigarette smoke and raucous laughter, searching for one face among the sea of brothers and their old ladies.
