Page 62 of The Order of Disorder
“Let’s talk about Danny.”
The clapping dies instantly.
“You’ve all heard the stories. You’ve all been whispering. So let me be real fucking clear. Yes, I shot him.” A beat of silence. He lets it hang, and then: “And I’d do it again, too.”
He paces in front of the hangar door, the golden light haloing him as he strolls back and forth, a beer bottle hanging loosely between his fingers.
“Danny walked off his post. Not once.Twice. Left the back gate blind when we’re a week out from race day, and the whole fucking region is watching. You know how tight we need to run it right now, how many eyes are on us. And what does he do? He slips off for a fuck and a joyride. Puts the whole operation at risk. Putsyouat risk.
“But here’s the thing: we’ve got eyes now. Cameras, mics, motion sensors. I know some of you bitch about it, say it’s too much, too tight. But it’s that very system that told us Danny wasn’t where he was supposed to be, that let Silas see the problem in real time so we could act on it. Because that kind of negligence gets people killed. So I made an example.
“If you’re pissed, if you’re scared? Good. You should be. That means you give a shit. That means you won’t make the same mistake. Because this club runs on loyalty. Brotherhood. If you can’t handle that, if you think you’re above it, then you can take your cut off right now and get the fuck out.”
Then his grin sharpens. A flicker of that old, violent charm. “This ain’t the Boy Scouts, boys. You wanna wear the screaming skull, you gotta be committed to what we built. This is our club—yourclub. Someone new comes in and disrespects that? I will do what I have to do. Foryou.”
The clapping starts up again, with renewed vigor. Someone whoops, loud and overeager. Everyone’s smiling a little too hard, nodding like what Billy’s saying makes them feel reassured and not fucking terrified.
He lifts the bottle high. “To the motherfucking O.D.!” And then he hurls the bottle against the steel wall, where it shatters with a resounding crash. A silent shock momentarily ripples through the crowd, then it erupts into cheers and more applause. The tension fractures just enough for laughter to break out. For a second, it really does feel like a celebration.
Billy walks back to our table, accepting a fresh beer on the way from a prospect who runs over with it. He cracks it open as he sits down and looks at me.
“Feels like old times, doesn’t it?” he says with a wink.
Silas answers before I have to. “Better,” he says. “We’re tighter now, boss.”
Billy takes a sip. “And smarter.” He tilts his beer at Silas. “Can’t build a kingdom without a good spymaster.”
His eyes slide back to Wyatt.
“And you, Road Captain—how’s the roster? We ready to ride, or am I gonna see chrome in the gravel?”
Wyatt nods. “We’ll be ready.”
Billy clinks the neck of his beer against Wyatt’s in a toast. “That’s what I like about you, Ryan. Straight answers, no bullshit, and I always know I can count on you.” He exhales, and his voice drops. “That’s why I need you on the road tomorrow.”
Wyatt doesn’t react, but I feel the subtle tension in his body where it touches mine. He sets his beer down, and Billy just keeps talking.
“Casper. Rawlins. Lander. Shouldn’t take more than a day. Just long enough to remind folks we’ve got eyes in every town. Truth is, I wouldn’t send you out if I didn’t have to. Not now. But we’ve had a few complications.”
He leans in slightly.
“Rawlins got hit last week. One of the stash houses we thought was dark—someone got inside. They knew what they were looking for. No product gone, but some papers, and the locks were clean-cut. In and out. Quiet as hell.”
Wyatt cocks his head. “You think it’s the same guy from Cheyenne?”
Billy nods once. “Yup. Slipped past two guards too. Sheridan got hit the same way a month back. We thought that was it, but it’s a pattern. We’re being targeted. Casper’s auto shop shut down overnight. Strip club in Lander got flagged by zoning. We’re losing ground. If someone’s poking at our old routes and front operations, I want boots on the ground. Your boots.”
“Understood,” says Wyatt.
Billy grins. “Knew I could count on you.”
Then he leans back, smiling easy again, the tension dissipating as the evening continues. The rest of the night unfolds in a blur of laughter, clinking glasses, and the hum of engines in the distance. But beneath it all, a current of unease lingers, unspoken but palpable.
We get back to the room when the crowd’s finally started to thin out and the hangar is quieting down. Wyatt’s on edge. I can see it in the way he moves, the watchfulness in his eyes. He clicks the door shut, heads straight to the fan, and cranks it up. Then he walks to the window, where the radio balances on the sill, and turns on something soft and melodic.
The room is mostly dark, except for the light leaking in from outside the door. The air is thick and too warm.
We undress in silence and slide into bed, facing each other in the dark. He tucks my hair back behind my ear and rests his hand on my cheek.
