Page 32 of Sinner's Fury

“Vicious, you were a nomad for many years before patching into the Golden Skulls. You know better than the rest of us. What can we expect?” Torment asked, trying to be the logical one. Only problem with that, there was nothing logical about thissituation. It was a clusterfuck of epic proportion, and if we didn’t defuse it fast, then we would all have bullseyes on our backs.

“If what your friend said is true, Payne, then Reaper is gearing up for something big. The Montana Chapter was nothing more than a vacation spot for the club. With the Tennessee Chapter already active, that would give him three chapters in distinct locations. Since the Soulless Sinners don’t have a chapter in Montana, it would give Reaper the logistical advantage. Plus, with the Sons of Hell connected by blood to the Tennessee Chapter, the only thing that makes sense is that Reaper is making a play for the table.”

“He can’t unseat Montana without empirical evidence of complicit wrongdoing,” I said as Vicious slowly looked up at me and firmly stated, “He doesn’t need the evidence.”

“What do you mean?” Rage asked.

“The blood pact.”

Shaking my head, I muttered, “Montana held up his end of the pact. He protected Remi. The table knows this.”

“You willing to bet your life on that, brother, because I’m not,” Vicious challenged. “You have to think of the blood pact like a contract, Fury. On one side, you have a club that entered into an agreement for the sole purpose of protection. On the other side, you have a club that agreed to help to save face. I don’t know about you, but in my opinion the contract was lopsided. Both men knew, and yet they still agreed. Why? Why would they both enter a blood pact knowing that neither side would uphold their end of the bargain?”

“Because if Reaper failed, then Montana could patch over the Golden Skulls,” Torment inferred.

“And if Montana failed?”

“Holy shit,” Rage cursed. “If Montana failed, then Reaper could unseat him and take control of the Biker Federation.”

“And if Reaper can do that?”

“Fuck!” I roared. “Reaper’s not just going after the seat at the table. He wants to sit at the head of the table!”

“Now you are thinking like Reaper,” Vicious stated. “Reaper’s only goal in life is to protect Remi, and the only way to do that is to control the underworld. To achieve that, he first needs to get past Montana and this club. And with blood ties to the Italian Mafia, the Russian Bratva, and the IRA, Reaper will get the votes.”

“But the vote has to be unanimous,” I clearly said. “There is no way the TRIAD or the Mexican Cartel will agree.”

“That’s true, but then again, Reaper can be very persuasive when the mood suits him; plus, he always keeps his promises. Can you say the same thing about Montana?”

No, I couldn’t.

“Hold up,” Payne interjected. “What if we can prove the clubs are connected? Remember what Pippen and Sypher said. What if we can prove they are right? Would that change anything?”

“All it would do is pit both presidents against each other,” Torment groaned, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Because only one can sit in the seat.”

“Yep, and I don’t see either giving that up.”

“So, we’re back to square one then.”

“Vicious, call Reaper,” I ordered.

“I can’t call him. I don’t know how many times I need to say that. I can’t be the one to call him.”

Blinking, as something finally clicked into place, I muttered, “But I can.”

“What?” Rage asked.

“I can call him. I’m the Sergeant at Arms of the club. Other than Montana, only Mercy or I can reach out to another president. Why the fuck didn’t I think of that sooner?”

Reaching for my phone, I stopped and looked at Vicious.

“I don’t know his number,” I admitted as my phone rang.

Looking down at my phone, I saw an unlisted number.

Frowning, I connected the call and said, “Hello?”

---