Chapter 20
Chainz
Taking a seat in thechair next to Crusher and Axel, I lean back, stretching my legs in front of me and drawing my hand through my goatee. We’re all waiting anxiously in the commons room for Mercy to come out with an update on Tank. I’ve tried getting in there several times, but she keeps kicking me out. My body is riddled with exhaustion and my mind is working overtime piecing together the events of the past week.
Thrasher pulls up a chair, spinning it on its legs and straddling it backwards, “We secured the guns in the bunker.”
Hawk flops down onto an empty chair across from me, “Any word on Tank?”
“No.” I look toward the door for the hundredth time.
“Who’s paying for this fucking mess?” Cobra snaps, joining us at the table.
“Did the Demon Sons set us up?” Reaper leans back against the wall, firing another question at me.
“Or was Ward onto us all along?” The light bulb going off in Crusher’s head. He’s thinking the same thing the rest of us have been all morning.
They all have questions I want answers for myself. This conversation is one we should have in Church, but with Mercy in the next room trying to save Tank’s life, we’re not going anywhere. “There’s only one way to find out.”
I grab my cell phone and dial Diablo’s number. He answers on the first ring, “You son of a bitch. There better be a damn good reason my Prospect is charcoal, and my guns aren’t here.”
“Fuck you, Diablo. I made a judgment call to protect both of our interests.”
“We had a plan, Chainz. You fucked that up and once again my guns are MIA.”
“The guns are secure, but I can’t promise you are.” I snarl into the phone.
“You take what’s mine and then threaten me? Give me one good reason we shouldn’t come for them and you.”
“Either you set us up, or you got played.”
“I didn’t fucking set you up, asshole.”
“Then you have a traitor.” I let him stew on my words for a moment. “One of Ward’s dirty cops was in that truck.” I bark.
“That’s not possible.” The tension in his voice is palpable, almost too raw to fake.
“He turned on your prospect and shot at us, leaving one of my men with a bullet in his back.”
A long silence fills the line. If the role was reversed, I’d be running all possibilities through my head. It’s never easy finding out someone you trust betrayed you. I should know. “I’ll sort this out. If one of my men set this up, I will deal with them.”
“He shot my VP. I’ll deal with him,” I bark. “Call me when you have something to trade.”
I hang up, kicking my chair out from under me. The tension in the clubhouse is thick and we’re all at our wits end. One mess after another has fallen at our feet and we’re all about to snap.
Mercy steps out of the infirmary door in blood covered scrubs and all eyes shift toward her. Her shoulders slump forward and she swipes at the strands of hair falling out of the tie she has it pulled back with. We all wait for her to lift her eyes and speak, “I removed the bullet and stopped the bleeding. Keep in mind, I’m not a doctor, but there doesn’t seem to be any permanent damage. His leg will be in a cast for at least six weeks. He’s young and strong so as long as he doesn’t get an infection, he’ll recover.”
