Chapter 21

The following few days consist of constant back-and-forth with three different federal agencies. The FBI, the DEA, and the ATF joined forces for this particular mission, which Dale Johnson describes as one of their most ambitious RICO cases yet. Millions of dollars are being poured into the operation.

“The Feds have access to information we would’ve never gotten,” Orion says during one of our private meetings.

Downstairs, workers are busy replacing the windows and furniture that sustained too much damage during the shootout. There’s a deputy’s car outside at all times and the sheriff’s boys are taking turns keeping an eye on our clubhouse. They’re expecting a second attack, and so are we. But we are more than ready for whatever hell Colton might want to bring our way.

We haven’t heard from him yet; there has been no text, nothing. His minions have left our businesses alone; our riders haven’t had any issues while out on the road, either. Kai says it’s the calm before the ultimate storm, and I’m inclined to agree with him. There are worse things headed our way, and while I may not be a fan of the Feds, we need them.

“We never would’ve learned Colton’s real name otherwise,” Orion says, prompting a dry chuckle out of Kai.

“I mean, I don’t blame the guy. Peter Rabinowicz doesn’t exactly scream scary dude.”

“Now that they know who he is, they have his full criminal history, too,” I say, going over the copies of many files provided to us by Johnson. “Murder 1 and 2, trafficking aplenty, assault with a deadly weapon, and kidnapping. Yet he managed to get off with just five years in prison. I can’t believe it.”

“The system is a joke,” Kai scoffs.

“Nah, he had good lawyers. Six hundred bucks-an-hour lawyers,” Orion replies.

“Which means he also had a lot of money,” I say. And that’s probably how he funded this whole move to take over the Black Devils and gradually demolish every single rival club in the area—except us.”

“For now,” Orion reminds me.

I nod slowly. “What’s our next step?”

A shadow flutters across my friend’s face. I’ve been seeing a lot of shadows lately. The concern, the fear, the uncertainty of what’s ahead. We’ve fought hard to pull the club away from its previous endeavors and into a more legitimate direction.

We’ve had to sever some dangerous ties in the process, and what we’re doing now with the Feds will cost us dearly in terms of reputation. We all know it, but it is a price we’re willing to pay if it gets Colton and his goons off the streets.

“We let the agencies gather more intel and prepare the playing field,” Orion says. “According to Johnson, it’ll take a couple of weeks, at least, before they’re ready. We provided them with essential information about their operations and everything we’ve picked up along the way from the other clubs. They need to verify each morsel before they set the parameters for this RICO operation because when they do come down, they will come down hard. They can’t afford to give him the slightest opportunity to slip away before or after his arraignment hearing.”

“Provided they manage to arrest him,” Kai scoffs.

“What about Nadia?” I ask.

“She’s safe with her father,” Orion says. “I doubt she’s happy or at peace. But she’s safe. It’s all we need to know for now.”

I check my phone again. “She’s still not answering any of our texts.”

“She needs space, my brother,” Orion insists. “Though I still haven’t figured out what Quicksilver meant the other day. It’s not like anybody knows about us. The only reason he knows is because she told him.”

“Why, though?” Kai replies.

That’s another mystery we’ll have to deal with, but today isn’t the day for that. Today, we have several uncomfortable conversations to entertain.

The first is with our club members. They need to be brought up to speed regarding our collaboration with Dale Johnson and the Feds. Hammer won’t be happy about it. Paddy has already been made aware and is furious, but he understands why we had to do it.

“There’s a chance we could lose a few members in the coming weeks,” Orion says as we get off our bikes.

We’re outside the Black Sabbath MC’s clubhouse. Our Blackthorn Riders briefing didn’t go as smoothly as we’d hoped. There were plenty of dissenting voices, and fingers pointed at us in an angry manner. I don’t blame them—the club was built with the bikers’ creed at its foundation.

One of our most precious commandments speaks against collaborating with the police, which is precisely what we did. In any other circumstances, it would’ve led to our expulsion from the club, yet Paddy and Hammer spoke in our favor.

“They’re free to leave if that’s what they want,” I tell Orion. “I’m not happy about it, obviously. We need all the support that we can get, but it is what it is. We’re doing this whether they like it or not.”

Kai shakes his head slowly. “I don’t think they’ll leave,” he mutters. “Leaving the club just as we’re about to sign an immunity deal with the FBI, the DEA, and the ATF seems counterproductive at this point. It’ll render them vulnerable to criminal prosecution when it’s all over. We’ll be spared; they will never touch us, and since we’re taking the club down a legal path, they will have no reason to pursue us further. Those who leave us, however … Dale said something about it, didn’t he?”

“Yeah, he said they’ll be subject to investigation,” Orion says. “They could be charged with obstruction, among other things. And from all the information we gave them about our past activities, it won’t be hard for the Feds to tie defectors to one or multiple counts of you name it.”

Pride might be more powerful than the self-preservation instinct, I think. Some of those who opposed our decision are hard-core Blackthorn Riders. They’ve been MC members for at least a few years. Two of them were in different clubs before they came over to us, and they have the utmost respect for the bikers’ creed. It’s stronger than any law of the land. They may be fine to go down with the ship in the end, but it is no longer our concern. If that is their decision, all we can do is honor it and let them leave.

“They’d better not reach out for help when their asses land in jail,” Kai scoffs.

“Honestly, for a second there, I thought you might consider leaving,” I chuckle dryly.

“No way. We’re in this together. Our brotherhood comes first, even before the club and bikers’ creed,” he says, then shifts his focus back to the Black Sabbath’s clubhouse. “Is it just me, or does this place look deserted?”

“Empty but not deserted,” I mumble, looking around.

There are only two hogs parked outside, next to a beat-up Volkswagen Beetle that used to be mustard yellow in its heyday. The sun is out, and the heat is nearing unbearable levels. It felt cooler while we were out on the road with the wind in our faces. Having to sit in this scorching dryness doesn’t work for me, so I lead the way and head for the front door.

Yet as soon as I reach for the knob, the door opens wide and out comes Smarty with a rifle pointed right at my head. I freeze. “Smarty, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I ask, my voice uneven.

I’ve known him since he was a kid who dropped out of high school to push drugs for his cousins before the Black Sabbath picked him up and made him a prospect. At least then he was pushing drugs with a broader back of brothers protecting him. He doesn’t appear to have come a long way since then. Still tall and skinny, still covered in botched tattoos, and sunburned, his hands shake as he tries to grip the shotgun like a real man.

“You aren’t coming in,” Smarty says.

“You could’ve just said so,” Orion bluntly replies, then points at the gun. “Put that down before I make you eat it.”

“I can’t,” Smarty says, giving him a genuinely apologetic look. “I’m sorry, I have to do this. President’s orders. You’re not allowed to ever set foot in our clubhouse again.”

“And why is that?” I ask.

Behind me, I hear the familiar click of a safety coming off Kai’s pistol. Slowly, I reach and palm his hand as he’s about to take the gun out. We can’t afford any more violence, not when we’re working with the authorities. I’m sure we can reason with Smarty in a different manner, regardless of his current attitude.

“You’re working with the Feds. Everybody knows it,” Smarty replies. “Word spreads among the clubs. You broke the creed, brothers. We can’t have you coming around here anymore.”

“Smarty, I will only tell you once more. Put the gun down,” Orion says, his tone clipped.

I’m starting to think it’s not Kai I need to be worried about. “Orry, I’m sure we can discuss this in a civilized fashion,” I say.

“And I’m sure we’re past that,” Orion shoots back, “because we’re actually trying to save what’s left of Southern Cali’s clubs while they’re busy bending over backward for a fucking sociopath who is going to get them all killed.”

Smarty’s terrified gaze darts between us, confusion plastered on his face. “Guys, I don’t like this, I swear, but I can’t let you in.”

“We’re not coming in,” Orion says. “We got that message loud and clear. I just don’t like having a gun pointed at my fucking face. Don’t make me ask you again.”

“Smarty, put it down,” I tell him. “Come on, man, let’s be real men here. We’re not trying to cause any more trouble. We’re just trying to reason with folks.”

“They don’t want to talk to you,” Smarty whispers.

“That’s fine, but I’ll need you to give them a message,” Orion cuts in. “No matter what they do, there’s only one way that this is going to end. Colton Harrow and the Devils are going down. Whether they’ll live to see the inside of a cell or not will be entirely up to them. But the Feds have stepped in, and they will settle this. All we did was make sure we wouldn’t fry with the Devils or anyone stupid enough to think the law wouldn’t touch them this time around. You hear me, Smarty?”

He nods once. “Yeah.”

“Tell your prez that we’re still open to having a conversation about this. The Blackthorn Riders are taking the war back to Colton, with or without your support. It’ll go a lot smoother if the clubs band together, but if you all are comfortable having your asses spanked by a fucking fraud and his cult following, by all means, bend over, ladies. We’re doing more for our crew than any of you did for yours,” Orion adds. He gives me a slight nod. “Let’s go.”

Finally, Smarty lowers his shotgun.

Kai points a finger at him. “Next time I see you, you’d better apologize, you little fucker, or I will break every bone in that skinny body of yours.”

We walk away.

The tension is palpable. The air is dry and hot, but nothing burns as much as the sense of having accomplished absolutely nothing today. I’d hoped the surviving clubs would be desperate enough to understand that working with us is the only way forward, but if they choose to go down in flames, I can’t stop them.

For many of these people, pride and honor supersede everything, including their own lives. We cannot save those who do not wish to be saved, but we can still protect our club, though it’ll be harder with fewer fighters on our side. We’re vulnerable now, especially after the clubhouse shooting. And we all know that Colton is preparing something far bigger and far worse, especially since we put twelve of his men in body bags. I don’t know what kind of PR stunt that was supposed to be, but I do know we won’t tolerate anything else that he brings to our door.

“That fucker will die, I promise,” Kai says as we get back on our bikes and cautiously look around.

There’s always a chance of catching a tail wherever we go. Colton’s people are likely watching us, hidden somewhere, ever ready to kick their gears into motion and maybe even finish what they started at the clubhouse.

If they kill the Blackthorn Riders’ leadership, it’ll be easier to ascend to that so-called throne, to pull all the strings and call all the shots across Southern California. The other clubs will follow him, and then it’ll be infinitely harder for that RICO operation to achieve its desired results.

A lot seems to hinge on our very survival.

“I’ll put him in the ground myself,” Kai adds and puts his helmet on.

“Let’s live to see that day first,” I reply, then give Orion a curious look. “Where to next, hoss?”

“We should try the Wolves again,” Orion shrugs. “Maybe that FBI raid of their stash house two nights ago finally smacked some sense into them. It’s worth a shot.”

Chances are we’ll get rejected. I bet there isn’t a single club willing to work with us at this point. But we’re going to have to deal with it and keep forging our own path. I only pray that we survive. I miss Nadia more than anything. I just want all of this to be over so we can go back to her, so we can figure out how and if we’re going to make it work.