“You all know I’ve stressed to death the importance of allies. With both the Dark Knights and the Dirty Angels.” Trip’s gaze landed on Ozzy and hung there for a minute. “Allies are always good to have. Especially right now. We got a relationship with the Angels that will now pay the fuck off. This was somethin’ we talked about a while back but back then we couldn’t swing it… and I vetoed it for other obvious reasons.” He took an audible breath and his gaze sliced through the club. “Kept this from you all ’til me and Judge got the plan organized and cemented. Plus, it wasn’t anythin’ the people involved wanted to be known to anyone other than the two of us. Mostly because of how things are gonna go down.”
Trip removed his signature black baseball cap and squeezed the bill between his hands. Usually, the only time the man removed it was when his temper was flaring or he was frustrated. It was clear this wasn’t either of those things. This was something else Whip hadn’t seen before.
For a second, his heart skipped a beat. Was the prez giving up? Was he throwing in the towel when it came to the Shirleys? Because that clan was what this meeting had to be about.
Those hillbilly motherfuckers.
The constant thorn in their sides.
Their only goddamn enemy.
At this point they were down to two options… Kill or be killed. And nobody standing in The Barn wanted the second one. That left the first option and Whip was damn sure Trip would prefer to avoid it, even though it wasn’t possible.
“Here’s the thing. None of us standin’ in this barn right now has the fuckin’ know-how to finish this war. Even me. Willin’ to admit it since to be a good leader I have to recognize my… hell, our weaknesses. My time in the Marines was fightin’ foreign enemies, not domestic. But right now,” he pointed to the floor, “I’m standin’ on American soil. Ain’t the same. Also, I got so much more to fuckin’ lose now. We all do.” He tipped his head toward the club enforcer, standing to his left. “When the Angels came up here when Stel and I got hitched, Judge had a long convo with the Angels’ enforcer to spitball some options. Their man Diesel runs a security team—”
“Security?” Dutch barked out. “We don’t need fuckin’ security. What are we? A bunch of pussies? The Originals—”
Trip held up a hand to cut the old man off. “We ain’t the Originals.”
Judge picked up from there. “Ain’t the kinda security you see at a public event or even for a celebrity. Though, they will be bodyguards for people who got enough scratch to pay them to keep them safe. Let’s just say they’re more like mercenaries than bodyguards.”
“Yeah, so… We discussed using them when Dyna was taken, but they ain’t cheap and there’s a good reason for that.”
When Trip hesitated, Whip realized he was right. Whatever the prez was about to propose was his last option. The man didn’t like it, but he was going to have to live with it.
“They’re good. They’re ghosts. They know what the fuck they’re doin’ and get it done. They get in and get out before anyone knows what the fuck hit them. Most of us got some kinda skill but not that kinda skill and not at that level. They live for this kinda shit. But, again, it’s costly as fuck, one reason why I was avoidin’ it. But now? We got no choice. Can’t put a price on our families. If we gotta pay for this for the next coupla decades, then we do, but want it so we don’t have to keep lookin’ over our fuckin’ shoulders for those decades. Also don’t wanna leave this war for the next Fury generation.” He glanced at Judge. “For Ry.” He found Shade in the group. “For Jude. Hell, even for Dane and Rush. We’re growin’ somethin’ good here and the fuck if I’m lettin’ those inbred goat fuckers destroy it. Also tired of worryin’ about our women and kids.”
“Like the prez said,” Judge started, “what we got planned will wipe out every fuckin’ dime this club has saved. Every fuckin’ penny. And we’re still gonna owe a big chunka change. We’re gonna be payin’ for a while. But we’d rather go into debt than go to a fuckin’ funeral. You get what I’m sayin’?”
Grumbles moved around Whip, but those grumbles all sounded like they were in agreement.
“What’s the plan?” Cage asked their president.
“We’re gonna do what we talked about but I didn’t think was possible. We’re gonna blow up that fuckin’ mountain.”
Chapter Twelve
“We’re gonna blow up that fuckin’ mountain.”
Silence engulfed them all for a long moment after Trip’s announcement.
Until Sig exploded with, “Fuck yeah,” at the top of his lungs. “About fuckin’ time.”