15. Trick

Ifile into the room we use for church, taking a space against the wall while the other brothers claim seats around the table.

Howler takes his seat as Brewer closes the doors behind us, signalling the meeting is ready to start. I notice Rage is also among the brothers, even though he’s not an officer, which tells me whatever is about to be said is going to have a big impact on everyone.

Rage smirks at me, a murderous twinkle in his eyes, before Hawk nudges him in the ribs. He gives me a scathing glare before he turns towards Prez.

The beatdown, which seems to have smoothed things between me and the other brothers, hasn’t made a fucking difference to him. Rage still wants to kick me in the balls, and I no longer feel like letting him. To get respect, I have to have some for myself.

I roll my eyes before I lower my chin, folding my arms over my chest as I wait, but all I want to do is get back to Heidi and my daughter.

“Four Pioneers are dead,” Howler says without any preamble. “Two more are in the wind.”

I don’t like the sound of that, but soon they’ll all be dead, so what does it matter?

“I’m ordering a temporary lockdown for the next twenty-four hours in case there’s retribution,” Howler says. “We all need to be vigilant and alert. There will be someone on the door at all times, and it will also be locked. All parties are suspended, no hangarounds, no out-of-towners, no guests or visitors until we put this shit to bed.”

I’m not surprised Howler would want to keep everyone close. Considering the number of children and old ladies now linked to the club, our world is more fragile than ever.

“Any news on Richardson?” This question comes from Hawk.

He’s no doubt worried about the safety of his old lady and kids. I understand that fear. There’s not a moment that passes where I don’t worry about my child and Heidi.

“He’s well protected, which is making it hard to find out where he is, but he’s still out there.” Howler moves his gaze from Hawk to Rage, and I know whatever he’s about to say is going to light a fire under the kid. “He’s increased the reward for Skye’s return.”

Rage erupts instantly, his fist slamming onto the table hard enough to break his hand. “He ain’t touching my old lady! I’ll burn the entire city to the fuckin’ ground before I let him have her!”

He comes up in a swift motion, but Hawk clamps a hand on his shoulder at the same time as Socket, both men pushing him back into his seat.

“Fucking calm down,” Hawk snaps at him, sounding more like a father than a brother.

Socket glances at the kid as if he’s a live grenade, and it’s not an unfair assessment. Rage is a powder keg waiting to go up at any moment.

I hold my breath, feeling as if we’re standing on the edge of a cliff, looking down at the choppy waters. A sense of dread ripples through me that I can’t shake.

“Ain’t gonna stand by and wait for that fucking psycho to take my woman and kid,” Rage bites out.

I don’t like him, but I do admire his protectiveness of his girl and his kid. Nineteen and he’s already a better father than I’ve been.

“Ain’t nobody telling you to do that,” Blackjack says. “Skye’s one of us now.”

“This Richardson fucker has become a real fucking thorn in our side,” Socket notes.

“We have every one of our allies trying to find this prick,” Blackjack says, “but he either has friends in high places or he’s gone completely to ground.”

I refuse to believe that. Everyone leaves a footprint. The digitalisation of the world makes it virtually impossible to disappear without a trace—unless you’re dead.

And that fuck isn’t dead. I’d know if he was. I’d feel it.

“We need to be doing more.” The desperation in Rage’s voice does crack some of the ice around that lump of meat in my chest. I know how it feels to be bone-deep afraid for someone you care about.

“We’re doin’ all we can,” Howler assures him. “Rav is sending men and weapons. The Frasers have contacts we don’t, and Crank’s attacking with the Birmingham boys. As long as Richardson is out there, we’ll keep looking.”

This isn’t going to soothe him. I know because it wouldn’t soothe me. “This shit is taking too long. Every moment that cunt keeps breathing, Skye runs the risk of being taken by him. She’s seven months pregnant and scared out of her fuckin’ mind, Prez. The stress ain’t good for her or the baby.”

That ugliness spreads through me, the guilt of knowing this is partly my fucking fault. I stoked the fires burning between us and the Pioneers.

“We’ve all got a horse in this race,” Terror says, reminding everyone that Hope is also pregnant.

The helplessness that swirls through the room is suffocating. When did we become the fucking pricks on the wrong side of this shit?

“Does anyone have any good news?” Howler asks, rubbing at one eye. I notice how big the shadows are under them, and I’d guess my president isn’t sleeping much these days.

“Can we use his men to draw him out?” Socket floats the idea.

“We already tried that,” Brewer says, his gaze sliding towards me. “It didn’t work.”

“We need something bigger than killing his men,” Hawk says. “Richardson has made it clear he ain’t loyal to those who are loyal to him.”

It’s a fair assessment. I lost track of how many I killed, but Richardson hasn’t stood with his soldiers.

“We need something he can’t ignore,” Brewer muses, steepling his fingers together.

“Like a daughter he never knew he had?” Everyone turns to look at Terror as he says this, and while we’re not above doing shitty things, this might be the worst suggestion I’ve ever heard.

Sariah Fraser has the protection of the entire Fraser family, and I can’t see her husband allowing her to be used as bait.

“You want to use Sariah Fraser to draw out her psychotic father?” Blackjack arches his brow, the disbelief on his face mirrored by all the brothers in the room. “Is this pre-parental panic?”

Terror stares at him for a beat before moving his gaze to Prez. “Richardson is a narcissistic prick. Skye ran from him, betrayed him by getting pregnant by his enemy, and yet he still wants her back.”

“He doesn’t want her back for anything good,” Rage interjects.

“Exactly,” Terror says. “Men like Richardson thrive on legacy and the idea of continuing their line. Skye is a disappointment to him. He doesn’t want her back because he misses her and loves her. He wants to punish her for betraying him. Sariah being out there and not telling him that she’s his,” Terror shifts his shoulders, “it’s gonna be enough to draw him out.”

It would, but it’s not a feasible plan. Lucas Fraser would burn our entire club to the ground before he’d allow us to use his wife.

“You want to ask Lucas Fraser to let his wife dangle herself like a worm on a hook in front of a man who most likely will kill her on sight?” Brewer lifts his brows. “You’re a braver man than me, buddy.”

“I don’t want to ask those fucks to do anything, but I want to end this,” Terror fires back.

Brewer narrows his eyes at him. “Isn’t your job as Sergeant at Arms to do risk assessment? You don’t think this sounds fucking risky?”

“I have assessed the risks,” Terror says. “The longer this goes on, the more danger our families are in. It needs to come to a swift resolution.”

I agree with him on that, but this isn’t the way to achieve that. We shouldn’t even think about putting anyone else at risk.

“We ain’t doing that,” Howler says, shutting down the conversation immediately. “We don’t sacrifice innocents.”

And yet innocents were the ones taking all the hits. Mara. Jade. Wren nearly died. Ophelia too. Her friend was raped and dumped on the front steps of the clubhouse.

This does need to end, but it isn’t Sariah or Skye who can stop this runaway train.

“Richardson wants something more than any of that,” I say, speaking for the first time.

All eyes come to me, but I’m only focused on Prez. “No,” Howler says before I can explain anything further. He is an astute fucker.

“Why not?” I demand. “This shit is just gonna drag on for years if we don’t do something.”

Howler’s entire body vibrates with irritation. “While it’s noble that you want to throw yourself onto the fire, we only just got you fucking back.”

“What’s he talking about?” Brewer asks.

“He wants to give himself up to Richardson,” Blackjack informs him.

“If he wants to do it, why are we stoppin’ him?” Rage shrugs. “It’s a small price to pay, considering the shit he’s done.”

“We don’t throw members of this club to the enemy.” It’s Hawk who comes to my defence, surprisingly. He and Rage are the two brothers I know the least, and neither of them particularly like me.

Rage snorts. “He ain’t exactly a member of this fuckin’ club, though, is he?”

Little bastard.

“You don’t see a fucking kutte on his back?” Terror asks. “You don’t see the Untamed Sons patch right fucking there?”

I duck my head, letting them fight it out. Maybe there is hope for me here. Maybe this is a turning point in my redemption.

But there are so many lives at stake here, and the longer this war continues, the worse things are going to get. What if next time it’s Sophia who is killed? Or Heidi? Or one of the other kids? I can’t have this shit on my head.

“Richardson will come out of whatever rathole he’s hiding in if he thinks he can get his hands on me,” I say.

“No,” Howler repeats. “I don’t give a shit if it brings this entire thing to an end in the next hour. Ain’t sacrificing anyone for this, so shut your fuckin’ mouth.”

Blackjack leans forward on the table, his fingers clasped together. “You also forget the part where you have a child waiting for her father to come home.”

I haven’t forgotten, not even for a second. Sophia is all that consumes my mind these days, and I want my daughter to grow up in a world where she’s safe.

“I’m not trying to get myself killed,” I say. “Believe me, this isn’t some kind of suicide mission. This needs to end before anyone else dies, and I trust you guys to have my back.”

Howler shakes his head. “Does anyone else have any suggestions that aren’t fuckin’ insane?”

The conversation turns onto other ideas, but I tune it out. The idea is turning over in my head, and the longer it does, the more sense it makes to me.

The slamming of the gavel against the table jolts me out of my thoughts. I push off the wall to follow my brothers out the room, but Howler jabs an irate finger in my direction.

“You, stay.”

Great.

I wait for the room to empty out, and Blackjack gives me an unreadable look before he shuts the doors behind us.

Howler gestures to the chair our VP just vacated, and I hesitate only for a moment before I sink onto it.

He stares at me, his eyes narrowed, his brow furrowed as if trying to make sense of me. Good luck. I’m inside my head and even I can’t make sense of me.

“Do you wanna tell me why your first option is to play games with your life?”

“Bait isn’t dying,” I correct.

He scratches at his temple, as if I’m giving him a headache. I probably am. I have the feeling I’ve given my president so many restless, sleepless nights over the past fifteen months. “I’m gonna kill you myself.”

I clamp my teeth together to keep the smart remark on my tongue.

“I know it isn’t what you want to do, Prez, but it makes the most sense. Richardson won’t be able to resist having me in his fucking hands.”

“And that’s exactly why it ain’t happenin’. What if something goes wrong, Trick, and he tortures you to death?”

It’s not outside the realms of possibility, so he’s right to be concerned. “That won’t happen.”

His eyes are granite as he watches me. “I need your word that you ain’t gonna go off and do this without my permission.”

Like I did last time…

He doesn’t say it. He doesn’t have to.

“Prez—”

“Give me the fuckin’ words right now, Trick, or I’ll pull that kutte off your back myself.”

Fuck me. “I’m not gonna do anything without asking,” I promise.

“You fuckin’ scare me,” he admits. “Every time I think you’re gettin’ into a good place, you pull something like this.”

I scare myself, so that’s hardly surprising. “I’m good, Prez. I’m not trying to die here, I promise. I just see a way to end this without anyone else dying.”

He leans back in his chair as if the weight of the world is carried on his shoulders. “I want that prick and his men dead as well. You ain’t the only one with someone you care about at risk. Pia’s doin’ good, and I don’t want a single thing to unsettle the progress she’s made. So, yeah, I get why you’d wanna do this, but you’re not expendable.”

These words remind me of what I’d told Heidi that day in the nursery when she’d given me that crap about just being my live-in nanny.

“I know.”

“Get out of my sight,” he mutters.

I stand and head for the door, knowing I may not be able to keep the promise I just gave to Howler, because if the chance arises to take that fucker out, I will take it and I won’t feel so much as an ounce of guilt for doing it.