Page 39 of Towles

“She’s a good woman, Towles. Don’t fuck it up.”

I stopped and turned away from the exit. Instead, I sat on a stool at the bar. “Bottle of water.” Trixie was hot, but there was no way I’d ever touch her. Trixie placed a bottle on the counter. “I get why you killed Cinder.” I held up a finger to stop her from denying the allegation. “My advice to you, from here on out, is to keep your nose clean. Give anyone a reason to suspect you had anything to do with his death, and the train the brotherhood runs on you will be a dirtiness neither you nor your sister ever thought possible.”

“You’re welcome,” she said. She placed an elbow on the counter, smirking like the cat that ate the canary.

“For what?” I grabbed the bottle and stood. Too much time around the woman wasn’t healthy.

“For helping you become VP.” She turned away and began cleaning glasses and putting away bottles. She glanced at me in the mirror on the wall, a wicked smile creeping across her face.

“Fuck you, Trixie,” I said and joined the others outside.

Dawn licked the sky to the east, and I couldn’t wait for the next time I would sit and watch the sun come up. Even a guy like me needed that kind of relaxation.

Want to see what a group hangover looked like? Get an MC up too early in the morning. The entire group looked like shit. The Street Punishers were definitely going to be surprised.

“Way to look like shit,” I said. Watcher looked as if he might puke. He shuffled toward me, and I jumped back when he bent over. He looked up and smiled. “Asshole.”

“Sounded like you gave it good to your old lady last night,” he said.

I started to say she wasn’t my old lady but then realized she was. I liked the sound of it. “She got what she deserved,” I said. “She definitely liked it.”

“I think the entire club got laid last night,” Diesel said. “The club sounded like a fucking dog pound about two this morning.”

“Three groups of five,” Beast said. He didn’t mind our fucking around, but we had business to deal with. “Me, Towles, Big Kentucky, and you two Prospects are going in through the front.”

“I want the two assholes alive if at all possible,” I said. “Do not kill them if it’s not necessary.”

“Ashtray will follow in the van.” Beast pointed at Watcher and TexMex. “You and three Prospects will go in through the back. Everyone else will hang back to ensure we don’t get unexpected company. They’re a bunch of dumbasses, but I don’t see them leaving the perimeter unguarded.”

“Ashtray,” I said. “Four ten-foot chains in the van.” Everyone looked at me, but I gave no explanation. I had a friend in a club in Arizona—Hell’s Justice. They dealt with a problem by using chains. It sent a message.

By eight that morning, we were pulling into the woods surrounding the farmhouse. We held steady for a good thirty minutes, watching movement around the house and counting the number of club members watching the place. We never saw the two Punishers who were pictured in the cam photos. I had to trust they were inside. Regardless, two men had to die today.

My phone buzzed, and I pulled it from my pocket to read the text message. “Be careful,” April said.

I simply replied, “Love you.”

“Let’s go,” Beast said. He stopped me. “Your head in the right place?”

“Never better, brother. Let’s get this over with.”

We stayed hidden while we approached the white two-story house. Chickens that looked like they’d just returned from a salon clucked and ran behind us.

The curtains on the second floor were drawn. Through the first-floor windows, we could see six men inside. They were sitting in the living room, laughing and drinking, none paying attention to their assignments. No one guarded the perimeter. They weren’t the brightest MC.

We took our positions around the house and waited. We needed as many as possible to venture outside. It made things easier.

“Idiots,” Beast said. “Fucking weekend warriors.”

“Somebody needs to knock on the front door,” I said, breaking from the group.

“Get the fuck back here, Towles,” Beast said.

But it was too late. Three men came out and spread across the porch, guns drawn. I was twenty feet away from the porch, gun in my hand but down by my leg. A car sat a few feet to my left. I was pretty sure I could make it to the car before getting hit.

“Fuck,” one of the men said. “That’s Towles.”

“It sure is,” I said. None of them looked like the two men in the photos. “Send out the other assholes."

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