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Authors: Carmen Faye
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out in case I missed it.
“One hundred, two hundred, three hundred, four--” My mind goes blank as the rubberband stack falls out of my pocket and out to the ground below. Parked just next to my car is a man in black staring daggers into me as he sits on a revved up motorcycle.
Chapter 8
“What do you mean you think you know who started the fire?” Remmy is uncharacteristically excited today. It’s like I just broke him the news he had won the lottery. Apparently, catching an arsonist is as big on his to-do list as being one himself.
“Calm it down. I need more proof first.” I sit back down in my desk and begin to unbuckle my shoes. It’s been a long, strange day, and I am not about to let this get any worse.
“Is that where you went today? I mean, I heard you took a personal, and I knew that was off, but I had no idea you were actually going after a guy. Why didn’t you bring backup?” Remmy’s voice is off the charts as he begins talking a mile a minute. He can’t get his words out fast enough, but after a long tick of me not answering him, he finally sits himself down on the couch and turns on the lamp behind his head.
“Listen, Remmy. I don’t want this getting out. If there is a burner out there with connection to this club, I want to keep it under wraps in case he’s got ears on the inside. I don’t think he’s acting alone, if you know what I mean. And since he’s hitting those buildings hard and fast, he’s getting some bum information, but, eventually, he’s going to find us.”
I quickly realize just how grateful I am that we separated all the troops out years ago. But there’s another part of me, a small human part, that also knows I’m a sitting duck. Living in this warehouse headquarters puts a target on my back. If you’re hitting a club where it hurts, you take down the head and let the body fall. If this guy finds out where we’ve relocated to, I am closer to the flames than I was when I was rescuing Dani.
“Should I put out the call for the enforcers? I’ve got a couple guys in Reno, but they can ride back. There are five more in San Jose working with the Palooza gang, but they could send back at least one or two for the cause.” Remmy makes a great Captain. Though he’s new, he knows exactly where his boys are at all times. It is like watching a master play chess with the plays being moved around in his head before they hit the board.
I sit back in my office chair, my head sinking into the leather as the metal front legs lift up and off the ground. I want to be tactful about this. I’m not going to just jump in and start a war over something I can’t exactly prove. The last time I did that two people got killed.
It was the night of my big arrest. Police were on my tail as I rode out with my big brother, Kenny, and his wife, Rhonda. I was on the run from the law after a heist at a rival’s drop off point. It was one of those shady pawnshop jewelry stores during the daytime, and I stupidly underestimated just how much security those places put up. After I took down one of the security guys with a swift knife to the gut, alarm bells went off almost instantly.
It was chaos -- nothing like I had ever seen before. And when those lights flash and sirens blare, it feels like your entire world is about to cave in. I was a rookie leader, someone who hadn’t really been tested outside of running the drug lines for the old gang. Now I was in the heat of it with a man reaching under the glass cabinets for his rifle. I had only one option -- bailing.
I managed to make it out before the first guy shot through the paper-thin walls of the old building. It barely missed my shoulder. After that, I couldn’t think. I needed backup. My number two at the time was my brother, Kenny. He was older than me, tougher than me, too. But he didn’t have the brains or the tolerance for the bullshit a president of a motorcycle gang has to put up
“One hundred, two hundred, three hundred, four--” My mind goes blank as the rubberband stack falls out of my pocket and out to the ground below. Parked just next to my car is a man in black staring daggers into me as he sits on a revved up motorcycle.
Chapter 8
“What do you mean you think you know who started the fire?” Remmy is uncharacteristically excited today. It’s like I just broke him the news he had won the lottery. Apparently, catching an arsonist is as big on his to-do list as being one himself.
“Calm it down. I need more proof first.” I sit back down in my desk and begin to unbuckle my shoes. It’s been a long, strange day, and I am not about to let this get any worse.
“Is that where you went today? I mean, I heard you took a personal, and I knew that was off, but I had no idea you were actually going after a guy. Why didn’t you bring backup?” Remmy’s voice is off the charts as he begins talking a mile a minute. He can’t get his words out fast enough, but after a long tick of me not answering him, he finally sits himself down on the couch and turns on the lamp behind his head.
“Listen, Remmy. I don’t want this getting out. If there is a burner out there with connection to this club, I want to keep it under wraps in case he’s got ears on the inside. I don’t think he’s acting alone, if you know what I mean. And since he’s hitting those buildings hard and fast, he’s getting some bum information, but, eventually, he’s going to find us.”
I quickly realize just how grateful I am that we separated all the troops out years ago. But there’s another part of me, a small human part, that also knows I’m a sitting duck. Living in this warehouse headquarters puts a target on my back. If you’re hitting a club where it hurts, you take down the head and let the body fall. If this guy finds out where we’ve relocated to, I am closer to the flames than I was when I was rescuing Dani.
“Should I put out the call for the enforcers? I’ve got a couple guys in Reno, but they can ride back. There are five more in San Jose working with the Palooza gang, but they could send back at least one or two for the cause.” Remmy makes a great Captain. Though he’s new, he knows exactly where his boys are at all times. It is like watching a master play chess with the plays being moved around in his head before they hit the board.
I sit back in my office chair, my head sinking into the leather as the metal front legs lift up and off the ground. I want to be tactful about this. I’m not going to just jump in and start a war over something I can’t exactly prove. The last time I did that two people got killed.
It was the night of my big arrest. Police were on my tail as I rode out with my big brother, Kenny, and his wife, Rhonda. I was on the run from the law after a heist at a rival’s drop off point. It was one of those shady pawnshop jewelry stores during the daytime, and I stupidly underestimated just how much security those places put up. After I took down one of the security guys with a swift knife to the gut, alarm bells went off almost instantly.
It was chaos -- nothing like I had ever seen before. And when those lights flash and sirens blare, it feels like your entire world is about to cave in. I was a rookie leader, someone who hadn’t really been tested outside of running the drug lines for the old gang. Now I was in the heat of it with a man reaching under the glass cabinets for his rifle. I had only one option -- bailing.
I managed to make it out before the first guy shot through the paper-thin walls of the old building. It barely missed my shoulder. After that, I couldn’t think. I needed backup. My number two at the time was my brother, Kenny. He was older than me, tougher than me, too. But he didn’t have the brains or the tolerance for the bullshit a president of a motorcycle gang has to put up
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