Reaper's Fire
Page 52I raised a brow.
“Traitor? What did he do?”
“Talked to the feds,” he said, leaning toward me, knee jittering. “And maybe the Reapers, too. Playing both sides. He sold us out.”
“I get the feds, I guess, but what do the Reapers have to do with anything?” I asked carefully, because what he’d said made no fucking sense at all. Hands was dead, and he sure as hell hadn’t been a Reapers spy.
Meth logic.
“Nothing,” Marsh said, narrowing his eyes. “They think they run Washington, but this is my territory. Just because the old president was willing to crawl up their asses doesn’t mean I will. They sent this Hands fucker to spy on us. I gotta figure out where he is. Can I trust you? Things might get ugly.”
Nodding my head, I leaned back in my chair. “I’m here, aren’t I?”
Marsh smiled.
“Guess you are,” he said. “Just remember—you fuck up, Hands won’t be the only bastard I put underground.”
Charming.
“Go out there and keep an eye on everyone. I gotta keep lookin’ for the spies. Nobody leaves, nobody makes phone calls, nothing. You got me?”
Oh, I got him, all right. Crazy fucker.
• • •
Things got worse as the morning passed.
I stood watch as Marsh grew more paranoid, calculating ways to take him down. He was close to snapping, and I figured shit might get real any minute now. If it happened, I’d probably be able to get myself away if I slipped out the back, but for some reason I couldn’t quite bring myself to abandon the others. I kept thinking about Sadie sitting alone in the dark, hugging her knees to her chest, and Rome worrying about saving his job.
He should be worrying about saving his life.
They had no fuckin’ clue what they’d gotten themselves into, and for some reason, I didn’t want to see them die today. If it came down to it, I’d do whatever it took to stop Marsh.
Stupid of me, I know.
Talia and the girls she’d taken to pick up food came back around eleven, no food in sight. Guess they’d forgotten. She was full of energy, though, running toward me and jumping up to wrap her legs around my waist.
“We should—”
“Listen up!” Marsh shouted, cutting her off. I lowered her as the bikers and their women came closer, waiting for whatever fresh hell he’d planned. “Last night we learned that Hands—he was a hangaround here for a while—was a spy. He disappeared, but I heard he’ll be at the car show down in Ellensburg tonight. We leave in ten minutes. Bitches are with Talia in the truck. Coop, get your ass over here. We gotta talk.”
I walked over to him, watching the Nighthawks scrambling to grab their shit.
“What’s up?” I asked him.
Painter.
“Levi,” I said. “He’s had a rough time of it, been busy with shit back home.”
“Need you to call him, tell him to meet us in Ellensburg.”
Hadn’t thought Marsh could still surprise me at this point, but this did the trick.
“Why?”
“I need more backup,” he said. “And there’s traitors in the club. I can’t trust any of these fuckers. Oh, and by the way . . . I don’t fuckin’ trust you, either. I’m watchin’ all of you. Now, go pick up your phone and give your boy his orders. Jakes! Over here!”
He waved the other biker over, making it clear he was done with me. I headed back to the bar, where a big bear of a guy pulled out the box of phones they’d confiscated earlier so I could call my cousin. I found mine and headed out to the fenced area out back, where I could talk without anyone listening in or sneaking up on me.
Pic answered on the first ring.
“We got some serious shit going down,” I told him.
“Talk to me.”
“Marsh just ordered everyone onto their bikes. He’s paranoid as shit, and he wants my cousin, Levi, to ride over for backup. Been trapped here with him all night like a bunch of fuckin’ hostages. Took our phones and everything. Only got mine back so I can call Levi. I’ve got a spare burner on my bike if they take it from me again. Oh, and get this—he thinks Hands was a federal informant and a Reapers spy, and that we’ll find him down in Ellensburg.”
“Don’t leave me hangin’ boss,” I said. “We need a plan.”
“Sorry,” Pic replied. “Just thinking. Guess you weren’t kidding about him falling apart, because that makes no damned sense at all. Okay, we just got out of chapel and everyone’s already here at the Armory, so that helps. Just have to call them back in. Here’s the thing—Painter’s only been out of jail a couple hours. He’s facing some serious fuckin’ time if they catch him violating his parole again. We could go over in a display of force, just a casual trip to see the show. If you needed us we’d be there and if you didn’t, the cover won’t be blown.”
I thought it over. Marsh was like a stick of lit dynamite, and at this point anything could push him over the edge. God help us all if he picked up a nail in his tire. Even if Painter showed, there were no guarantees. The key was surviving on the ride down—once I got there the club could step in if they had to.
“He doesn’t need to come,” I told him. “They want to put a bullet in my brain, that’s gonna happen on the way down. For all I know, Marsh is lying about Hands and this is just an ambush. He’s made it clear he doesn’t trust me for shit. Doesn’t trust any of us—man is paranoid and losing it.”
“How serious a risk do you think it is?” Pic asked. “More intel won’t help anyone if you’re riding to your execution. We can end this thing now.”
I considered the point, trying to stay detached. Not the easiest thing to do when you’re talking about your own death.
“Marsh is scattered,” I told him. “Twitching, can’t hold his thoughts together very well. I think he’s running on pure instinct right now—not calculating. I’m not his primary target.”
“Okay then, here’s a plan,” Pic said. “First up, this is your ass on the line, so you pull the plug if things change. Second, I’ll gather the brothers and figure out a plan. If I have to call you, I’ll pretend to be Levi until you give me an all clear.”