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What Forger doesn’t know is we have one of the biggest dealers in the city, a man called John “Big Papa” Hastings. A man who runs every underground fighting and boxing match in this city and turned tricks once he realized what was going on with Forger. The man may be many things, but a traitor isn’t one of them. He just doesn’t like guys who fuck with the system. The system works, and when things get disrupted, it means he loses money. Forger has been wheedling his way in, and something has to give.
He was never on Cash’s payroll as an informer, nor was he ever on the right side of the MC, but the man is loyal to a fault, and he doesn’t want Forger taking back the French Quarter. It’s bad for business. He’s in with the Irish and wants to keep it that way. Once the Irish get wind about Caruso and the Italians, it’ll be a war amongst them that none of us want to be in the middle of. If we can pull this off, we may just be able to walk away. What happens after that isn’t our business.
It’s risky. Tag and Harlem want to be here, but they’re well known to Forger and the Devils so they’ve gotta lay low.
I groan. “Well, he better show up. His men have been doin’ all the dirty work for weeks. None of them know shit. Caruso motherfuckers.”
“That’s gonna be a problem,” Priest agrees. “But he can’t hide forever.”
The last thing we want is trouble with the Italian mafia but, hopefully, it won’t come to that. It’s everyone’s wish we can stay flying under the radar and take down the Devils for good.
It’ll put an end to this war between the MCs and confirm that the club can rest easy for the first time in over a year.
“This is so fucked,” Nevada agrees. “Should be out shootin’ pool and gettin’ my dick sucked, but instead I’m sittin’ out here in the goddamn cold.”
“Hold your horses, it’ll be over soon,” Priest says.
“How can you be so sure?” I frown. “You got connections?”
He smiles. “I feel it in my bones. Change is comin’. Forger will have to pay for the sins he’s committed. In the end, we all have to answer to a higher purpose.”
“Sounds fucked,” Nevada says, wincing.
I shake my head.
Priest’s phone buzzes. He pulls it out and reads the message. “Showtime.”
When this is over, I can see my girl.
Maybe there’s something in what Priest said, but all I can do is take things one day at a time. I know how I feel, and that I’ve never felt this way before. But that doesn’t mean Aspyn feels the same.
Setting myself up for a fall would be stupid, but who am I to argue with reason?
“Holy fuck,” Jett hisses. “That was fuckin’ close.”
We’re watching the fight.
All of us are dressed in normal clothes without cuts.
There’s nothing like an MC patch to get you flagged at the door.
And if Forger is here tonight, there ain’t no way he’s getting away.
Me, Jett, and Priest are the three most incognito as we’ve never seen Forger before. The others are hidden around the underground platform. It’s an old, abandoned station that the underworld criminals have been using to conduct illegal fights and push drugs relatively unnoticed.
“You know the plan,” Priest says to me.
Yes. We do. We just got a briefing from the big guys half an hour ago.
We took care of the motherfuckers who were here to collect tonight, and now we’re posing as them. Tonight has taken Tag and Harlem weeks to put together, and if all goes to plan, there shouldn’t be anything stopping us from getting closer to our goal of eliminating Forger.
We also have help.
Not just Brew and Haze, along with Bronco, JJ, Riot, Hawk, Nevada and the prospects, Pipes, and Rodeo. Cash and Ryder wait in the wings close by. If the meeting abruptly gets moved— which can happen at any moment if Forger gets antsy—then they’ll be waiting. Our Prez isn’t scared of a fight, but he’s easily recognizable.
There’s nothing I love more than the adrenaline that flows through me when we’re about to do a bust. Not that it happens very often, but these last few days have been eventful.
When Big Papa gives us a chin lift, we follow him past the fighting and into a back room.
