Page 59 of Clash
“Just the first names, kid,” I snapped, rolling my eyes over the look of fear in his eyes.
“Alice and Richard.”
Everyone shared the same look, knowing exactly what to call him. “You’re new club name is gonna be Cooper,” Snyder informed him, beaming proudly.
“Why Cooper?”
“Alice Cooper… he’s a rock… oof never mind. You wouldn’t know him, anyway. I’ll play you his music tomorrow in a crash course of rock history,” Wasp exclaimed.
Snyder brought the attention back to the front of the room. “Now that we have all that settled, let’s find those damn boxes. Danger, I need you to try to unlock Riot’s phone.”
Danger grinned. Taking the phone from Skid, he moved over to the dead body on the ground, grabbed it by the hair then pulled up his face so he could get the facial recognition in it.
“Done,” he said proudly. “Whatcha need me to look for?”
“Anything that might help us intercept some packages.”
Danger, Cooper, and Pussycat all eyed the box on the table. You could see they all wanted to know what was in the box, even if the stench could give it away.
“The less you know the better.”
Nodding, Danger went back to searching through the phone. “Um, there’s a text here with about twelve different addresses and times. Could that be it?”
Snyder took the phone, smiling evilly.
“Ha, this is even better!” he said, showing me the phone.
“Clash, do you think you can do some warehouse duty?”
Fuck. The old lady wanted me to meet with her, if we’re busy doing this shit, how am I supposed to do that?
“I guess.”
“Good, take Poison, Motley, Skid, and Pussycat with you. The rest of us are going to split up and keep an eye on these other locations. Hopefully, we can intercept the packages before they ever leave the warehouse.”
When nobody moved, Snyder hit the table with the gavel. “Get the fuck out of here, fuckers. We’re running out of time.”
Everyone scrambled.
Fuck, hopefully we can pull this shit off. Otherwise, the club is seriously fucked.
21
We sat outside the warehouse, watching from an unmarked car. From what we could see, there were a few guys inside, all wearing the Dismembered Crow’s cut.
Fuckers. How the hell did they reorganize so fast? And who the fuck was leading them?
I didn’t see any familiar faces, not even Ratt’s, which meant they were leaving the dirty work up to the lower members.
“There’s at least eight of them,” Skid mumbled. “We’re out numbered.”
The eight men took turns loading boxes into the back of the vehicles. If I had to guess, they were all going to one of the twelve locations on the list in Riot’s phone.
“How the fuck we gonna stop this shit?” I growled. “These motherfuckers are about to roll out.”
From behind me, the car door opened, and I watched in horror as Pussycat slinked out of the car.
“Prospect, where the fuck do you think you’re going?” I whispered to him after rolling down the window.
