Page 28 of Saint's Sinner

If he was pissed about not being able to stay, he didn’t show it. The boy had matured since Shaw’s crew had tried to run him down in an alley and then beaten the shit out of him.

Maybe they needed to start avoiding those alleys for the foreseeable future. Shit always seemed to jump off when they were in them.

“Tell your brother to keep the lockdown in place until he hears from me,” Mark said.

“Yes, sir,” Cody said.

“And you know what to tell your mama.”

Cody nodded. “Always.”

“Good kid,” Mark said. “I don’t want you guys stoppin’ unless it’s God dammed necessary, understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then get to it,” Mark said, but not before clasping his son on the shoulder.

Saint gave him a nod too. “You did good, kid, now finish the job and don’t forget to send the code when you get back so we know all’s good.

“Will do.”

He took his leave after that, striding past Disciples and Jokers with his head held high. A year ago he wouldn’t have been able to do that. He’d have been too pissed at being sent back to recognize the importance of the mission he’d been assigned. Now, it was clear he got it and was taking the responsibility seriously. With the way he’d shown up for Sinn already, Saint knew that the man he loved couldn’t be in better hands than if he was in Saint’s own.

“What’s the Serpent’s roster looking like these days?” Sampson asked as he poured a round of whiskies.

His sergeant-at-arms, a burly motherfucker with four fat scars gouged from his right temple to the left side of his chin, spat tobacco juice in a red plastic cup before answering.

“Couple new prospects. Gilly’s running shit now that Miguel got sent up state to face the needle. They’ve been cookin’ meth up at that old still site Gilly’s pappy set up, Old Verne’s still runnin’ shit up there too, but the last time I talked to Dizzy up at county, he said there’s some bad blood brewin’ between them, and a couple brawls already popped off on the inside. I’m thinkin’ their strike on us is Gilly’s way of tryin’ to prove ta the old bastard that he’s got the stones to run that outfit.”

“Well, I guess it’s fixin’ ta suck to be Gilly, because those stones of his are exactly what I’m planning on cutting off and giftwrapping for old Verne,” Sampson declared. “It’s time to end this war once and for all. Should have put Gilly down when I took out his old man, but he was still just a mouthy pup back then…a mongrel cur with an attitude he couldn’t back up, but still too young to die for the sins of his fathers.”

Saint watched the old biker swirl the remains of his whiskey around the bottom of his glass, eyes having taken on a faraway look. It was clear this war had been raging for a while but his words about not killing the son of his enemy before he could become an enemy himself was right in line with the Joker’s own creed. Civilians were off limits, but the moment you put on a kutte, all bets were off, that’s just the way it had always been and always would be.

“Alright, here’s what I’m thinking,” Sampson said. “I’ll take one line of bikes up that dry gully behind the still site. Hank, you’re leading the charge through the front gate. Vega, you take JJ, Ryder and the Jokers up the east trail and flank them, Willie you come in from the west. By the time those bastards realize that they’re surrounded, half the fuckers will already be dying in the dust.”

“We waiting for nightfall?” Sinn’s old man asked.

“Dawn,” Sampson replied. “Moon’s gonna be a sliver tonight and they’ll be expecting us. Makin’ um wait until morning willleave them exhausted, on edge and high as fuck. Especially after Ghost and Shadow get through with them.”

When Sampson turned to speak to a pale man in light gray leathers standing beside an African American man dressed from head to toe in black, including the metal wrapped plateau hat perched on the top of his head, Saint realized he’d never even noticed them enter the room. Even Mark’s eyebrow went up a fraction after seeing the pair step from the shadows.

“I want flash bangs and gorilla tactics. I want their nerves frayed by the time we roll in. Crank the music loud, make the explosions louder. I don’t want them finding shit when they go searching. If we get lucky, maybe a couple will take themselves out bumbling around with flashlights trying to figure out what’s going on.”

“I like the way you think,” Mark said. “But you’d do more damage with some carefully placed tripwires. Make them set off most of the flashbangs themselves. Then your guys have plenty more time to set up surprises for them.”

The old man chuckled, a sadistic grin sliding across his face. “You heard the man,” Sampson declared. “Make it happen.”

They were gone as quickly as they came, their footfalls not even making a sound on the broken glass and scuffed up wood. He caught Creature watching out of the corner of his eye, a look of silent approval on the big man’s face. When it came to sneak attacks, he was their go to. Knowing him, he’d wind up picking those men’s brains before the trip was over.

“Now, I suggest everyone get their weapons in order and find a place to crash,” Sampson declared. “Tex, make sure you’ve got the dynamite ready. I don’t want that still or that meth house standing when this is through. Bloody bastards have been poisoning our county for long enough. It’s time we rid it of Serpents and Rocket Fuel while we’ve got the chance. Nevercottoned to pushers no matter how much their shit brought in. There are better ways to earn.”

“Amen to that,” Saint said, with several others chiming in, Jokers and Disciples alike.

Of all the illegal enterprises they’d had a hand in, and there had been more than a few, drug dealing and manufacturing had been something Mark had never allowed them to dip a toe in. Anyone who tried had been swiftly dealt with. The lucky had run out of town without their kuttes. The unlucky would never be found.

Chapter 11

(Night)

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