Page 56 of Devil's Own: Roughneck

“So you see,” Elise says, “the Horde and the Lords have real history. But here’s the thing: We aren’t about sitting on the sideline waiting to be rescued. We’re strong, intelligent women. Not a one of us here isn’t a crack shot now, and we know the risks. We’ve lived the risks before. The men just refuse to recognize us as fighting team players.”

“What do you propose?” I ask.

“We’ve been talking. We want to end this once and for all. Our men have gotten most of those Death Bringers, but a few are still on the loose. My husband thinks they’re the only ones with feelers outside the club. But here’s the thing—Trish, she’s Sneak’s wife. She’s a schoolteacher. It’s no secret that she’s affiliated with the Lords.” Elise stops to sip her tea. “Well, one little girl,” she continues after swallowing, “her aunt came to pick her up because her mom was in the hospital having a baby. So this woman heard about the Lords and went on to tell Trish about these awful bikers who have been hanging around the strip club where she works. She didn’t know they were bikers at first because they weren’t wearing their cuts and everybody knows bikers always wear them.”

“Okay,” I say, unsure of where this is going.

“She was giving one of these guys a lap dance and overheard him say something about the Death Bringers.”

Now she’s got my attention. “And?” I ask.

“And we know where to find at least a couple of them,” Elise answers.

“According to Trish, they’ve been showing up every day and staying for hours, harassing the women, getting real handsy,” Caity says, taking over the story now. “The club’s manager doesn’t care how men treat his girls so long as the they keep buying drinks and paying for dances—a real sleazeball. From what I understand, when one of the dancers complained to him, he told her, ‘Don’t like it, quit. What are your options? McDonalds?’”

“Those women need help,” Liv says. “Once this is all over, I plan to have Chaos and my brother pop in to educate the manager on why he should be looking out for his girls.”

“Your brother?” I ask.

“Blood,” she answers.

“Oh, wow—so you and Hannah are—”

“Sisters-in-law,” she says, answering my question.

“And Hannah and Brinley are actual sisters,” Gill pipes in. “It really is all in the family with you bunch.” That gets a good laugh.

“We plan to go into that club as dancers and catch us a bad guy,” Elise says, getting us back on track. “He won’t know what hit him. You in?”

“Oh—I’m so in. Not that anybody could mistake me for a dancer.”

“Are you kidding?” Liv says. “You’re hot.”

“I don’t have the kind of body—”

“We can all see that’s not true,” Maryanne says.

“Woo! Undercover!” Gillian whisper-shouts. I think we’re doing this.

We make a plan. We three Horde women get a hotel room while the Lords’ women head home for the night. Their men are closer. Our destination is a town west of Lexington.

Tomorrow.

17

We’ve been engaged for a couple of weeks now and instead of being at home fucking her brains out celebrating that fact, I’m still down here waiting to find out our next move to bring down the Death Bringers once and for all.

I hate waiting.

I’m an action man. But here we are. And yeah, I can think of worse places to pass the time other than Carter’s sweet beach house—I’ve been to plenty of shitholes in my time. Places where you are aware with every breath how low a person had to fall to end up there. Bugs and filth, and the stench of rotten in the air. Considering all that, I shouldn’t bitch about having what equates to a holiday compared to that.

The problem is that Gee would be here with me if I were really on holiday. We’d lay out in the sun with the warm ocean breeze dancing over our skin while sipping rum drinks—or she’d be. I’m a shot or beer man myself. My point still holds true.

Vlad has the TV on and the various news stations around the state are still reporting on the attack. We honestly had no idea that Floridians would care this much about us bringing down a club like the Death Bringers. These aren’t choirboys. They’re killers who kill without remorse and don’t care if bystanders get caught in the crossfire.

The blood on my hands was necessary blood spilled from shit human beings, so although I feel no remorse, we as a club make our hits as safe as possible for any innocent who finds themselves in the wrong place at the way wrong time.

“This is Tyler Cunningham from WKNET Action News. I’m reporting to you live from Sarasota at the compound of the Death Bringers, the notorious biker gang who have been wreaking havoc throughout Florida for decades.” I turn my attention to the broadcast, wondering what in the hell they have to report on this time. The young guy with his dark, slicked-back hair black suit, and red tie looks completely out of place in front of a biker compound.

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