Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 119092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Hunter glanced at his friend, then nodded to the waitress, gesturing for her to come over. She approached their group cautiously, clearly reading the tension.
“Another round for the table,” Hunter told her. She scuttled off, and silence fell. The girl returned with the drinks, and Hunter picked up his beer, sipping it thoughtfully. Ruger joined him, wondering how this would play out. He’d stand by Deke and Toke—still his brothers, right or wrong—but attacking some kid who’d had nothing to do with the incident wouldn’t accomplish much. Finally, Skid spoke.
“Things are changing with the Jacks,” he said. “Lot of things in play. What happened to your niece? There’s no excuse for that and no way we’re trying to say it was okay. None of us were down with it, and we took care of the men involved. Only two were our brothers. The rest were hangarounds, and all of them are gone now.”
“We should’ve brought them to you,” Hunter added. “We get that now. At the time, we just took care of business, because your girl was the last straw in a much bigger, much uglier situation, so wrap your head around that. Figured we’d minimize your risk and haul out our own garbage. I can’t travel back and fix what happened to her. Can’t give you a shot at them, either. It’s done. What I can do is try to move forward, make sure it never happens again. We’re tired of this.”
“Tired of what?” Picnic asked, his eyes narrowing.
“Tired of putting time and energy into fighting Reapers when we should be focused on more important things.”
“Funny, you weren’t feeling all peaceful last December,” Horse put in. “My woman was in danger. I don’t appreciate assholes like yourselves threatening my property.”
Hunter sighed and leaned back in his chair, rubbing the bridge of his nose between his fingers.
“Times change,” he said finally. “We all know that. Some of our guys, they’re a little slow, clinging to the past. That was their play, and it was a fuckin’ stupid one. But most of my brothers and me, we’re looking to the future. Fighting you is a waste of time and energy. Used to be we were in the minority on that one. Now we’re not, so I’m opening the door. This wasn’t an easy meeting to arrange, but we all put down our guns and came here today. That’s a start.”
“I didn’t put down my gun,” Deke rumbled.
Hunter smiled, shaking his head.
“Jesus, you’re a hardass,” he told Deke. “Respect. But seein’ as I’m still alive right now, I think my point stands. We’re talking, not shooting. Gotta be a record.”
“That’s your play?” Picnic asked, openly skeptical. “You had some kind of revolution back home, so now you’re here tryin’ to make peace? Lemme guess, you think we should all just hug and make up, maybe swap some recipes, organize a potluck?”
Hunter laughed, his body language so relaxed it was almost insulting. Didn’t he realize they could take him in a heartbeat?
Yeah, Ruger decided. He knew it.
He just didn’t care, and a man who’d stopped caring was dangerous as fuck.
“Cut the shit,” Ruger said suddenly. “What do you want?”
Hunter leaned forward and met his eyes, voice serious.
“I’m here because we’ve been losing territory and influence for years, and it’s getting worse. We got boys coming up from the south, out of L.A., and they’re looking to expand. We need to be fighting them, but we’re fighting you instead. So far as I can tell, we’re doing it out of habit like a bunch of damned monkeys who can’t figure out something better to do,” he added.
“Swattin’ flies isn’t habit, it’s housekeeping,” Deke rumbled. “Same with killin’ Jacks.”
Hunter shook his head.
“Tell me this,” he said. “Your niece, that was some bad shit. But before her, Reapers killed three of our guys in Redding. Two of those guys had kids. You remember that?”
“Assuming it happened—which for the record, I don’t acknowledge—it’s probably because they attacked our guys the night before,” Picnic said. “Preemptive self-defense.”
“Your guys were down there to steal one of our shipments,” Hunter said flatly. “And they burned down our clubhouse while they were at it. Why’d they do that?”
Picnic shrugged.
“Dunno. I wasn’t in on that decision,” Picnic admitted. “That was all Roseburg.”
“Yet we’re prepared to fight and kill each other over it,” Hunter said. “And each time we strike back, it gets worse. Sooner or later we’re gonna kill each other off completely, which is exactly what the gangs down south want. Our clubs, we got history between us, and it’s not good. But we’re the same kind—we know what it means to be brothers. Men like us, we live to ride, and ride to live. Fuck the world.”
Ruger nodded, acknowledging the point.
“Now we’re seeing boys movin’ north, boys who aren’t part of a brotherhood … and I mean boys—they got kids workin’ the streets can’t be more than ten years old,” Hunter continued. “These children are takin’ orders from generals who don’t get their hands dirty, let alone throw down for them. They don’t get to vote, they don’t get to think, and they don’t even know why they’re fighting. They’re a threat to our way of life, yours and mine. I’m tired of putting time and energy into worrying about Reapers when every time I turn around some high school dropout’s takin’ potshots at me. I just want to ride my fuckin’ bike and get laid.”