Reaper's Fire
Page 68

“Respect,” Pic said, nodding his head. “And those are your real brothers. Marsh and his boys pulled a hostile takeover while you were locked up, which put you in a hell of a spot. Sound about right?”
“Exactly what happened,” Cord said, and for an instant his cool mask slipped, and I saw just how exhausted he must be. “I got paroled and found my club turned upside down. Fucked up shit.”
“You could’ve come and talked to us.”
“Wasn’t my place,” he said. “Marsh was the president, elected following the bylaws. You think we’re some bitch club that comes running to Daddy for help when things get tough? We’d have taken care of business, sooner or later.”
“You never voted for him?” I asked. Cord shook his head.
“Nope, I was still inside at the time. But I understand how it happened—he was the only strong one who hadn’t been picked up in the raid. The rest of us were out of the picture—some of those brothers won’t see freedom for another ten years. We couldn’t afford not to have a strong leader, and the Reapers approved it.”
“That’s true,” Pic acknowledged. “Wish Rance was here—Bellingham is in charge of this area, not Coeur d’Alene. He knows the situation better than me. Say we all agree to share the fault. Next question is, how do we move on from here?”
“You should know we’re not letting Marsh come back,” Cord said, sharing a determined look with his brothers. “We already voted on it—either he goes or we’re turning in our colors. This isn’t the club I joined, and while I love my brothers in prison, we can’t let Marsh destroy everything we’ve worked to build. If need be, I’ll start a new club. With or without your blessing.”
The words hung heavy in the room, because we all knew what that meant.
War. He had to know it wouldn’t end well for them.
“You talk to your boys on the inside?” Hunter asked. “What do they think?”
“If the Nighthawks fall, they’ll be open game,” Cord said. “That’s why we want to keep our alliances strong for their safety. Marsh is a time bomb, and I’m not sure the brothers I have left—the real brothers—are strong enough on our own. We’d like to find a solution that doesn’t end with all of us dead.”
“What if we offered you a compromise?” Pic asked slowly. Cord studied him.
“I’m listening.”
“Marsh and his people are out of the game. They’re dead to us. They show their faces, cause trouble, you name it, you have our permission to make them go away. We’ll back you up. But we agree with you about the Nighthawks. The club has fallen apart, and we can’t allow that kind of weakness in our territory. Not only that, the name is tainted—you openly rebelled. There are other clubs that might follow if we let you get away with it. It’s over. We’re shutting you down.”
Cord’s jaw tightened.
“And our men inside?” he asked. “Our alliance with the Reapers is keeping them alive—you’ve got men inside, too. We stand strong together, our brothers are more likely to make it out alive.”
Pic nodded, then leaned forward, his voice intense.
“We’re prepared to patch you over into the Reapers.”
Cord raised a brow, and Tamarack crossed his arms. The man was huge, like a bear, and when I caught his eye I half expected him to growl at me.
“Are you serious?” Cord asked slowly.
“Any of this look like a game to you?” Picnic replied. “I talked to our national president already. He’s on board. It’ll need to be voted on by all the presidents, of course. Some may argue—we all know you’ve been cutting the Reapers out of our due on the cross-border trade.”
“Not us,” Cord said. “That’s all Marsh. We’ve been cut out, too.”
“We know,” I told him. “I’ve been watching. I realize you don’t like how this went down. Not right for a man to come to your town—your club—without his colors. But we needed to understand what was really happening, and now we do. We’re well aware that you weren’t part of the betrayal. That’s why we’re fighting for you and your brothers. None of us want to see Hallies Falls lose their club. This lets all the loyal brothers survive with your dignity intact. Not only that, it keeps our alliance strong, which means our boys inside stay safe. Let Marsh take the fall for this one, Cord. Patch over, and we’ll build a chapter in Hallies Falls that’s worthy of respect.”
Cord glanced around the room. Faded leather vests hung on the walls, along with pictures of members long dead.
“And the men who came before us?” he asked, nodding toward the club’s insignia. “The original Nighthawks? You expecting us to forget about them?”
“No,” Pic said. “So far as we’re concerned, the men who betrayed your colors never existed. The rest of you have served with honor, and we never forget our fallen brothers. They’ll stay here with our respect when as you move forward as a new chapter. We’ll give you a few minutes to discuss it.”
He started to stand and the rest of us followed, but Cord spoke, stopping him.
“And if we say no?”
“Then it’s over,” Pic said bluntly. “We take your colors and shut you down. We can’t allow a support club to betray us like this and survive.”
Cord nodded slowly. “Not much of a choice, then, is it?”
“Always a choice,” Pic said.
“What about the men inside? You gonna let my brothers serving time—the same men who lied to cover your ass—get slaughtered?”
“No,” Pic said firmly. “They’ll still be under our protection—they’ve earned that right. But we both know they’ll be stronger if they carry the Reaper name. You’d all be probationary members until you prove yourselves, though.”
“Of course,” Cord said, his voice bitter.
“It is what is it, brother,” Hunter said.
“You aren’t my brother.”
“All the Reapers are my brothers,” Hunter said, glancing toward Picnic. “Even my asshole father-in-law. You join the Reapers, you’re getting protection from the Devil’s Jacks, too. Something to remember.”