Page 54 of Trick

“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.”

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