Page 31 of What He Wants

“Bad enough to knock him out on his ass, but he’s tough.”

“A body shot, then?” Rock inquired.

I acknowledged him with a nod.

“I want eyes on Pleasure Me, I never liked that fucker Talbot. He claims his place is neutral ground, but he’s a lowlife who’d turn his own mother in for a dollar.” It was clear by his tone that our president disliked Talbot as much as his way of operating.

I’d already decided on that, adding, “I’ll put eyes on his house, too. I’ve been thinking about something else.” Hawk narrowed his eyes, waiting for me to continue. “Been thinking about using bait to draw them out.” I felt gazes snap my way, because we all knew that the only bait that would draw Shooter and Whistler out was me. I shrugged.

“Normally I’d tell you to do what you need to do, brother, but not sure I’m on board with this” Hawk objected.

“Well, I’m not on board with sitting around twiddling my fucking thumbs while we wait. It’s not like he’s going to make a move while we’re on lockdown.”

“What do you have in mind, brother?” BK asked from the opposite end of the table.

“Shooter knows me. He made it easy to find him because he knew that I’d come after him. When he’s healed up enough he’ll do it again. He doesn’t like to fail. He had it all planned out how he was going to take me out, but my getting the drop on him will eat away at him like a cancer inside him.”

“Let’s not forget he’s had years in prison to cultivate his hate for you.” I nodded in agreement with Ned. “A man doesn’t let that kind of shit go easily.”

“I’m open to hearing what Big John has on his mind because, fuck, my old lady being here twenty-four-seven is making me crazy!” Snake said with a mixture of annoyance and humor. I wondered if he included his and Robin’s four kids, two of which were twins, in that statement.

“You can keep the kids, but do you want me to take Robin off your hands for ya, brother?” Painter joked, getting a dark scowl for a response. Painter shrugged good naturedly.

“Wait until you have an old lady of your own,” BK laughed.

“Me? No way!” Painter was a die-hard manwhore and made no apologies for it. “I like variety too fucking much.”

“Enough!” Hawk barked. “Unlike some of you, I don’t mind my old lady and kids being here. But let’s get back on track.” He turned his glare on me. “So, what do you have in mind?”

“Nothing too complex. He knows I’m looking for him. I’ll just make finding me easier for him, while not being obvious about it.”

“How is that different than what just went down?” The question came from Rock.

“I make it so that he comes to me. He’s not the only one who can plan an ambush.”

“Why don’t you just set up a meeting with him and then have an old-fashioned shootout?” Painter grumbled around his cigarette.

“Yeah, that would only work if it was just Shooter, asshole.” Ned sat back in his chair and crossed his arms, shooting a meaningful glower at Painter. “But Shooter’s got a whole fucking club behind him.”

“Speaking of which, what’s going on with that? Where are they?”

Hawk’s remark made everyone turn their heads toward Fox, the club security expert and computer guru who investigated shit. “Me?” he grinned. “I’ve been waiting for my turn to speak.”

“Talk, asshole,” Rock grumbled, before Hawk could. “What did you find out?”

“Word is, the Trouble Makers are very slowly making their way back to Greenbush. The few who know that Shooter is out of prison have shown up back at their clubhouse. The others? Well, seems they spread out over the years, some moved out of state. Locating them has been difficult because Shooter’s secretary died of cancer a couple of years ago, and no one’s been able to find the records he kept of the members’ whereabouts.”

Snorts sounded throughout the room at that news.

“So how the fuck are they locating them?” Hawk snarled.

Fox shrugged. “Guess some of them kept in touch with the members in prison. I don’t know. They had about fifty when the raid went down. So far it looks like around twenty have been rounded up. A few have patched in with other MC’s or become nomads. Who the fuck knows about the rest? They may never find them. My source tells me the clubhouse in Greenbush is being cleaned out and readied for business.”

“So, it appears Shooter wants to tie up loose ends before getting back to running his MC,” Hawk concluded, turning to me. “He really wants you dead.”

Yeah, it sure as fuck appeared that way, and it was a personal vendetta, as personal as it got. He wanted to see me ended by his own fucking hands because we’d been friends and he was sure I had betrayed him. Shit. “His personal grudge towards me could work out to our advantage. That kind of shit makes people reckless.”

“Look--” Hawk leaned forward, making no bones about who he was addressing his next words to. “You do what you need to, but you bring backup and you make fucking sure I know what your plans are first in case shit goes south and we have to come looking for you.” He paused, giving methelook, the one that said that if I didn’t follow orders my cut was at stake.

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