Page 26 of Flint

“Spit it out, Kitten.”

“I’d rather swallow.” I giggle a bit as he stumbles at my words. “No use asking anything else if you’re just going to sidestep it. Pretty sure you do more than just look at a map and make a route. But fine, you keep your secrets, and I’ll keep mine. I mean, I’m sure I have some. Just got to remember what they are and then not tell you.”

Chapter 11 – Flint

J

esus. I need a drink, or seven.

I’ve been with this chick longer than most, and we ain’t even fucking. I don’t hang around women if I can help it. Some are awesome. It’s not like I think I’m superior to them or think less of them or anything. Just always been a guy who likes to spend more time relaxing than having to deal with women’s drama. And yes, they all got it. Some are better than others at not talking about it all the fucking time, but they eventually get to a bitching point, and I just don’t want to be around it.

Before today, never had to. I could hang out with a brother’s old lady all day just fine, no issues. As long as we get a break. I fuck a vamp or get my dick sucked, then send everyone packing. But for once, I can’t do that. I’m taking this job seriously because, well, I fucked up and need the VP to accept my penance. I know a few of the other brothers are still on the edge of wanting to bring my patch to the table, questioning if I should still be an officer, much less a brother.

I don’t begrudge them of that. I put the safety of an old lady above my own. I put a brother and the club in jeopardy. My patch should be on the table and not on my back. Thank fuck it is, though, because I don’t know where I would go if I wasn’t a Hound of the Reaper anymore.

I was completely lost as a kid. My parents were more into alcohol and the boring jobs they had just to afford it. Joined the military because I had nowhere else to go. I liked the purpose of it, but after a few tours, I burned out. I had enough of the shit and the bureaucracy that fucked me and my team more times than not. So I got out, was lost again, and then the Hounds found me. And I haven’t looked back since. Without them, I’m not sure where I would be. Everything, including my business, started because of the club. Without it, I’m just a veteran with a fucked-up past who has triggers and the need to fight the demons off by punching people in the face. Not someone you would consider good to be around polite company.

So I’ll gladly take being on babysitting duty, while it sucks and is a job for a fucking prospect, if it means I keep my patch.

“Yo, Flint, boss wants to see you.”

“Yeah, give me a second.” I wave Bass off as I maneuver Julianne to the corner booth, farthest away from the door. We usually reserve it for Princess, as it’s probably the most secure place here if someone came in the front looking for trouble. And with the way this girl seems to stumble into it, it’s best if she stays far away from others.

“Stay here. I’ll be back soon,” I tell her.

“What if I get bored?” she whines.

I roll my eyes but then spot the bucket we have behind the corner table. “Color.”

“What am I, twelve?”

“You sure do act like it sometimes,” I mumble under my breath.

“I heard that. But whatever, I think I might actually enjoy this. Hell, maybe it’ll trigger something. Who the hell knows, right? Have fun storming the castle.”

I shake my head as I walk away. How the hell she can quote The Princess Bride and not even know it is beyond me.

Boss ain’t alone when I walk in, and for once, Bulldog doesn’t seem as hostile toward me as usual. Maybe babysitting ain’t so bad after all. Casper is also here, along with Chains, Kooper, and Atom.

“What’s up?” I ask.

Law nods to the papers on his desk. “We got our first international one. Casper picked it up a few hours ago. Looking at Middle East extraction for a church group that’s gone missing.”

Fuck yeah. It’s about damn time. The boys have been itching for some under-the-table action lately. I set us up on the dark web a few months back. We ain’t picky on the job, but we got standards. No shit just for money. Got to have a reason behind it, and it looks like we found something right up our alley.

“What do you need?”

“Boots on the ground. Want you, Bass, Kooper, and Atom. Casper and Chains will run comms from this side of the pond. Bulldog will go halfway, be the pullout if needed. You’ll pick him up on the way back if everything goes as we plan,” Law states as he leans back in his chair with ease despite the creaking noise it makes.

“Time frame?”

“Leaving tomorrow,” Bass speaks for the group. He’s run more missions than the rest of us, so I don’t question him leading it. “Plan for most of the recon and operations to be on-site. We don’t have a lot to go on, and we won’t till we reach a contact there. Guy’s crazy nervous about the internet and will only talk face-to-face. Once there, I’m not sure how long it’ll take, but we ain’t coming back till they do, be it in body bags or with us holding their hands. Estimate a few days, maybe a week or two at the most if intel is shoddy and we got to do our own full recon starting from scratch.”

I nod, already making plans. I did this shit for a living. Mostly ran the ops, actually. Planned, strategized, made it happen. Even led a few teams, till bad intel got my guys killed. Been a while since I’ve been in action, but I’ve also learned a hell of a lot since then. And I trust my brothers. Every fucking person in this room, and outside of it, has my back. They know my history, know I’ll only say it’s a go if everything is a hundred percent certain. Relying on shitty intel forced me to make a bad call. Seven guys died because of me, because I trusted the wrong person to do their job. Won’t be making that mistake again.

Law adjusts in his chair, and we all look to him as he talks. “Make the preparations you need tonight, cover your shifts and shit. Kiss your woman and fuck a whore if you got one willing. This ain’t no candy-stripe mission we’re sending you on. This could be as simple as a walk in the park, or not. I picked you three specifically ’cause I know you can handle it. Also, it’s our first full operation and not just side help, so don’t fuck it up. Our side business is relying on a glowing review.”

Ha. Funny. Hired mercs don’t get star ratings. We get the job done or we die. That’s it.

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