Page 23 of Deserter

It had taken almost four years, but this was going to be Comedian’s last run. We’d come down to south Texas for a shipment of ephedrine and cocaine from our Mexican supplier and to take care of the key witness in Wolverine’s case.

Our lawyers had filed a motion to suppress evidence related to the dynamite counts early on, hoping to buy some time. The firearms and conspiracy counts alone were more than enough to put him and the others away for life.

The federal court granted the motion, but the government immediately appealed and requested a continuance, which was denied. The indictment was dismissed, but when it came time for trial, the government appealed the dismissal and the goddamn thing had been tied up the Court of Appeals ever since. Instead of releasing them, they’d kept Wolverine and the others locked up for public safety.

I’d almost become convinced that my brothers were going to rot behind bars when we received an anonymous tip on their witness. It was a man Wolverine had considered a friend of the club. We’d even done business in his restaurant a couple of times.

The lawyers on our payroll informed us that if we took the guy out, they’d file a petition for a rehearing, under the claim that their sixth amendment right to a speedy trial had been violated.

No witness and a violation of rights?

The case would fall apart.

Apparently, the asshole had decided to hide down south until his day in court. Unluckily for him, he was shit at staying under the radar. Slim had sights on him within forty-eight hours.

“Grey?”

“Yeah?” I blinked until the bottles lining the back of the bar came back into focus. I needed to get my shit together. I’d been zoning out more and more this trip.

“You look like Wolverine; sitting and stewing over the way shit went down. Let me guess—you’ve already come up with several alternate scenarios that would’ve been better for the club, yeah?”

I shook my head with a smirk and downed another shot of tequila. “Not even close, Slim.”

We’d led the nark blindfolded through the woods as he blubbered about how we had the wrong guy, pleading his innocence to anyone who would listen. Every snap of a twig had him jumping out of his skin in fright.

He’d continued sobbing and repeating the same shit over and over until I was ready to end him right then and there. Comedian and I must’ve agreed on that because he’d ripped the blindfold off with a growl, spinning Chris around to face his executioners.

His eyes had widened in shock before he weakly asked, “Guys? What’s going on?”

I’d almost applauded. Shit, I would’ve feigned ignorance too if I thought it would’ve made a damn bit of difference.

Initially, Chris had blamed his decision to rat us out on the Mexican Mafia. Unfortunately, as we were receiving a shipment, we had a member of said mafia with us and his story had quickly unraveled from there.

Comedian had circled him, like a shark looking for a meal. “You wanna hear a joke?” He didn’t wait for an answer before continuing. “I thought you might. Say Chris, what’s the best thing about fingering a gypsy when she’s on the rag?”

Chris had looked up at me, practically pleading for me to put a bullet in his brain. I’d seen it as part of his punishment though. It was only fitting that he was forced to listen to Comedian while digging his own grave.

“C’mon, Chrissy.” Comedian had grinned maniacally. “You get your palm red for free!”

“Jesus, Comedian,” Slim had noted from the shadows. “That’s a visual I didn’t need.”

I flinched at the shattering of glass before realizing that I’d gotten lost in thought and Dragon had once again lost control of a shot glass.

“So, what’s runnin’ through your head then?” Slim leaned into my line of vision.

“I’m celebrating, Slim. Ain’t nothin’ more to it than that.”

He frowned. “You sure, man? You’ve been on edge since we dealt with the nark.”

In actuality, I’d been preoccupied with my plan to take Comedian out permanently without drawing any unwanted attention from the other club members.

He had a point though.

Something else had been eating at me since we left the woods.

The first thing Wolverine had taught me was to never let the enemy get into my head. And until tonight, it hadn’t been a problem.

“No me gusta que me mientan,” Dragon had spat the words at Chris’s feet. I don’t like being lied to. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have business to take care of. Grey here will see to it that you have everything you need,hermano.”

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