Page 4 of Alex

“Ready for it? Alex, honestly, I’ve never met anyone who’s tried to control as much as you. There’s nothing that we can do now. Those assholes know we took out their men and if they come it’s not like they’re going to be ringing the dinner bell as they ride down the fucking road. You try to micromanage everything, it’s just going to piss people off.” Gin shrugs and continues to shovel.

“I’m not trying to control shit besides keeping us alive. If you can’t fucking appreciate that shit than why the fuck are you here?” I sneer at Gin.

“Alex, I’m not trying to disrespect you. You’re my VP but I think Gin might be right with this one. What the fuck can we do? Are we going to lock everyone down and just wait for one of them to show up so we can get rid of them? How do we know that they aren’t somewhere watching us right now? There’s just some shit that we can’t control.” Wire says, leaning on the end of his collapsible shovel.

“I don’t give a fuck about going into lockdown or pissing people off. I don’t care about who’s watching us or if they let us know. All I give a fuck about is staying alive and keeping my brothers alive. If I have to piss off every one of you that’s what the fuck I’m going to do.” I spit out.

“Well, I don’t know how to tell you this Alex, but that’s not your decision. Last I checked, Prime is the president.” Gin smiled before he continued to shovel. Archer and Wire follow along leaving me to fume at his remark. He’s right, I can’t put any of the precautions in place like I want. I have to wait for Prime to give me that directive. I only pray that he sees shit the way I do.

Alex

It’s been days since we had our firefight with the Rolling Cobras, days, and no retaliation. I feel like I’m going out of my mind here. Like they’re just waiting around the fucking corner but Prime doesn’t see it that way. He’s making it seem like they’ve learned their lesson and they’re not going to come fuck with us anymore. I never want to think my president is incapable, but shit like this makes me feel like maybe he needs to reevaluate what the fuck he’s doing here.

“You ever going to get that stick from up your ass?” Max comes and sits down next to me. He’s been at the club since I have. He’s my brother and the only one besides Ryder and Prime that truly understands me.

“Shut the fuck up Max. Seriously, how the fuck can everyone be sitting here all fucking happy we’ve gotten some free drugs to sell back?” I cut my eyes over to him. I just can’t understand why this isn’t a bigger problem for everyone else.

” First of all, Prime says we're okay. He said there's no reason to think the Rolling Cobras were going to come back now. I mean they have to know we're going to be coming for them if they try to drop on our land again. The drugs were a huge pay day for everyone here and honestly, we’re all fucking tired of fighting. If Prime thinks we can be in the clear for once than fuck it. Let them stay over there with their tails tucked between their legs and we can be over here partying our ass off.” Max stretched out on the lounge chair next to me.

“Max, you know this shit isn’t over.” I say looking him in the eye and hoping I have at least one person in here that can see what I’m talking about. That there’s at least one person here that knows we’re all probably still in danger.

“Alex, I know brother. Yeah, but until something else happens we need to celebrate the small victories or we’re not going to make it through. Look at the new stages we got for the parties. Did you see the security system Archer brought? What about the new furniture for our rooms? All that shit is possible because of this win. Let’s focus on that shit for a little while instead of waiting for the next shoe to drop. When and if the Rolling Cobras come back, we’ll be ready for them. There’s no fucking use being anxious about it now.” Max says and tries to get up.

“Wait a minute, I’m not fucking anxious.” I snap at him.

He chuckles and then drops himself back on the chair. “NO? Tell me, how often are you thinking about the Rolling Cobras coming in here and starting some shit with one of us? Do you have an idea as to where they would come from? Do you think you’d be able to get us out? Who do you think would die first?” He asks quick fire questions, and my mind reels as I get ready to reply. “Do you have answers for all those questions?”

“Yeah, of course. And if we could just buckle down tighter, we could make sure nothing happens. We’d need more weapons. Or even some sort of incendiary device—" He cuts me off from saying anything else.

“Alex, that’s the fucking definition of anxiety. Worrying about shit that hasn’t happened or may not ever happen. And from the way your pupils are dilating and you’re breathing it looks like you got more fucking anxiety than the rest of us. You need to relax.” Max shrugs slightly before he gets up from his chair leaving me there dumbfounded.

I’m not fucking anxious.

My eyes scan the crowd and I settle on Mick, He’d be the first to go. He can’t run.

The door is a heavy wood …it’d be easy for them to break it down with a car or a… “Fuck!” I jam my hand in my hair and tug.” He’s right I’m fucking anxious about some shit that hasn’t even happened yet. I need to get myself under control and worry about what I have to do now and not shit that might happen later.

* * *

Almost three days after Max pointed out to me I’m a little more wound up than most, nothing has yet to happen. Maybe the Rolling Cobras really have learned their lesson.

“Bullshit! You can’t hit that target and even if you could it’ wouldn’t be a bullseye.”

Clean and Archer had a bet going on about Archer being able to hit the dart board with his knife with a blindfold on. I don’t know what kind of superpowers Archer has, maybe some voodoo or magics from his hometown of New Orleans but the man has never missed a fucking shot. I don’t know why Clean would take that fucking bet.

“If you don’t think I can hit the target, why wouldn't you put up your po’boy?”

“Because I rode nearly thirty miles to get the fucking sandwich. It’s mine. I want it.”

“Fine, then admit I can make the throw.” Archer waves his hand weakly as if he doesn’t care.

“You already had one sandwich, Clean. You greedy asshole.” Wire is leaning against the bar with a half smirk on his face watching the two of them bicker with each other.

“What do you think Wire? You think he can make it?” Clean turns to look at his best friend and Wire squints his eyes.

“You have to question that? The man is one of the best sharpshooters in the world. The entire world, Clean. You think he’d miss a target not more than 30 feet away just cause he can’t see?”

Clean nods his head and rubs his chin like he’s in deep thought. “You’re on.”

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