Sting, page 4
I tried to snatch my hands away from him, but Sting stepped back into my space, trapping my hands against him. “You let me worry about getting your sister back. It’s what my club does.” His thumb feathered back and forth over my hand before he glanced down at where we touched.
My fantasies about Sting hadn’t decreased despite my pep talk to myself. If anything, I craved his attention even more. What woman wouldn’t? He was dangerous. Anyone could tell by looking at him. There wasn’t anything he missed, and he kept a tight rein on his club.
There were several men who’d come in a day after I arrived here so distraught and looking for help. Though Sting’s men spoke with various members of Black Reign occasionally, they mostly kept to themselves. Sting had them going over blueprints and maps all day, every day as they discussed the layout of the city and its various problems. And they trained. Hard. I noticed several of the girls in the club approached the newcomers, but none of the men seemed to care. They kept about their business and never mixed business with pleasure. All of them were big, powerful men. But Sting was the one who caught my eye. This was the first time he’d ever so much as looked my way.
Sting dropped his hands, and I snatched my own away as he addressed El Diablo. “I’ll get all the info from Shadow Demons and be ready before they bring the next bunch of kids to the warehouse. We’ll get rid of whoever is still there. When they show up with the new group of children, we’ll take them out. By that time, Giovanni should have everything we need to rescue the group they’re getting ready to offload.” He sounded so calm. So sure of himself. I wanted to believe, but this was Jerrica. If there was any way to prevent her from being sold in the first place, I was going to figure it out. By myself if I had to.
“I promise you, Iris,” El Diablo assured. “We’ll get your sister back as quickly as possible.”
I said nothing, afraid I’d sound ungrateful or irritated. Years of living in a group home had taught me when to keep my mouth shut. This was one of those times.
The discussion continued, but I was done listening. I knew where Jerrica was being held. I knew it was guarded. I knew they were getting ready to move her. I might not be able to take out the men in the warehouse, but I could rescue Jerrica. If I could get anyone else out, I would, but Jerrica would be my first priority. With that thought in mind, I slipped out of the meeting and out of the clubhouse. I’d make a plan on the way.
Chapter Three
Sting
That girl. That fucking girl.
Iris.
I got it now. I understood how my dad could give up his club for a woman. And the woman he’d allowed to betray us wasn’t even the woman he ended up with. If what he felt for Bev had been even half of what I just experienced with Iris, I could understand everything he’d done. Which meant that he wouldn’t just kill anyone who threatened his wife, Hope. He’d annihilate them. I knew this because the second Iris’s hands landed on my chest, whoever had taken her sister wasn’t going to die the quick, painless death we usually brought to human traffickers. Oh, no. They were going to die hard and slow. Over days. Weeks. Why? Because they’d hurt Jerrica and, by extension, Iris. No one would ever hurt that girl again as long as I lived and breathed. It didn’t matter if drawing it out risked getting caught. I would get justice for this woman. No matter the cost.
I looked around the room until I found Warlock. He was looking at me intently. I glanced at Iris before meeting Warlock’s gaze squarely and holding it while the conversation around us continued. The other man merely raised an eyebrow before lifting his chin, an indication he understood Iris was mine.
She stepped back, ducking her head. Not surprising given she was squarely in a meeting where men easily two or three times her size were discussing how best to kill a bunch of motherfuckers. I wasn’t ready to take her in hand at the moment, so I focused on the rest of the meeting.
“I wonder why they pick up new kids on their way back from selling the last bunch.” Shotgun continued to peck on his laptop. Even when he wasn’t in his office, he was still working, picking up feeds from the Shadow Demons. Shadow Demons was a club in Rockwell, Illinois. They weren’t exactly MC, but they operated much the same. They liked to think of themselves as one-percenters who just happened to be billionaires. Alexi Petrov was their president and co-CEO of Argent Tech along with Azriel Ivanovich and Giovanni Romano. They were the bridge between our clubs. I had the feeling El Diablo would one day be the muscle for all of us, and I wasn’t sure how that sat with me.
“To keep exposure to a minimum. They only leave that warehouse with kids in tow once every ninety days.” The guy who spoke -- Wrath -- looked more like a corporate lawyer than a biker. Not surprising since he was the District Attorney for this area. From what I understood, he’d been shoved into that role several years before with the intention of finishing out the four-year term his predecessor had started before leaving the position under mysterious circumstances. Wrath had done such a good job of cleaning up the corruption that the people had elected him for a second and then a third. I couldn’t deny someone that high up in the city and district was a wonderful pet to have. “It’s a smart move. Only mistake they’ve made is making the moves so predictable.”
“Oh?” El Diablo raised an eyebrow. “Do continue.”
Wrath shrugged. “They leave at the same time every ninety days. Exactly. On the nose. They take the same route, though they do use different vehicles. Same driver. Same muscle. Same drop-off location. The men who take possession of the children are just as predictable, only not as polished. There is one fifteen-second call made exactly seventy-two hours before they move the kids. Giovanni listened in on the last one. We’ll know once we see them leave, but it sounded like they confirmed the move was still happening and gave the number of kids to be moved.”
El Diablo steepled his fingers in front of him. “Seventy-two hours. Every time.”
“Giovanni found the phone records. And it wasn’t easy. Other than their predictability, they’re pretty careful and very hard to trace.” Wrath delivered the information with a casual air. Like he didn’t really give a fuck. His eyes told a different story. He wanted these fuckers. Badly.
“Exactly. To the hour. Initiated by the warehouse team.”
“OCD?”
“Don’t know. Don’t care. But it means we have a reliable timeline to work with.”
“I’d prefer to have at least one more test on that phone call, but we can’t risk the kids.” Samson, the vice president of Black Reign, sat back in his chair in the corner of the room. He was usually quiet, staying in the background. “The second crew doesn’t appear to be as conscious of time constraints as the warehouse group. Like they don’t understand they need to get in and out quickly. Making the first party wait increases the likelihood of all of them getting caught.”
“Precisely.” Wrath wrapped his knuckles on the table. “And that’s how we’ll find them.”
“Has it ever happened?”
“Not that we can find.”
“Good,” I said, needing to assert myself in all this ego. While I thought I might respect this club and her members, they’d asked Iron Tzars to do this. El Diablo had asked me to bring my men down here to work this. We hadn’t volunteered for it. “I want Wylde in the middle of this. He’s my intel guy, and he and Brick will put our operation together from here forward. He should have been in there with Shotgun and Esther more the last two months instead of with the rest of the club. Any help you want to lend will be appreciated, but I need you to understand that if we’re doing this, we do it my way, and I’m taking over from here.”
El Diablo grinned. “Of course, Sting. You have complete control over every aspect of these operations. Ask for anything you need.” He glanced around the room at his men. “We are completely at your service. We’ll do as much or as little as you require.”
“As long as we understand each other.”
“Well,” El Diablo stood, prompting everyone else to do the same, “I suggest we all get to work. Wrath, Shotgun, give Sting as much information as you can come up with. Samson, see to it the men from Iron Tzars have whatever they need.” His gaze shifted back to me. “There’s no way to rescue the children at the warehouse tonight. Is that correct?”
“Not safely. If we try to do this at the warehouse tonight, there is a significant risk of collateral damage. I will not risk hurting -- or killing -- the very children we’re trying to rescue.”
The other man nodded crisply. “Agreed. So, we have three months to get ready?”
“No. We concentrate on the rescue of this group after they leave the warehouse. We know their patterns. We know where they’re going. So we scout out their destination and watch. If there is a safe way to rescue all of the children later tonight, we take it. If not, we’ll continue to follow them until we find our opening.”
“That’s the unpredictable group. We have an idea of what they’ll do. Even though they seem to follow the same patterns, they’re not as exact.” Wrath furrowed his brow, concentrating solely on me. I could all but see the wheels in his mind turning, running through all the options.
“And the warehouse?” Samson’s gravelly voice cut through the room unexpectedly.
“It’s not going anywhere. As long as we’re not seen, as long as anything we do tonight doesn’t have blowback, the men at the warehouse won’t know there was a problem until the designated contact time one week before the exchange. Eighty-seven days from today. That’s an eternity to plan. But we won’t need that long. We’ll need long enough to make sure anyone inside is part of their operation. After that? The whole crew dies. If you want us to follow the trail further, you’ll have to extend more resources and equipment to us.”
“We’ll discuss that once we have little Jerrica back.” El Diablo sat back, a look of supreme satisfaction on his face. “Good.” He gave me a crisp nod, looking supremely satisfied. “Very good.”
“I’ll get my crew into position.”
“Keep in touch at all times, Sting.” Samson stood and indicated the door. “I’ll walk you out and inspect your gear with you.”
I looked around the room and noticed Iris wasn’t there. I’d opened my mouth to say something when Jezebel opened the door. Her gaze landed on her husband, her expression tight.
“Iris is gone.”
“What?” I barked out the question before I could censor myself.
Jezebel addressed El Diablo, not even looking at me. “She hopped in an Uber and left.”
“Did she even have money? Why did you let her leave?” I had no idea why I was losing my shit. Add it to the long list of fuck ups I’d made. I needed to be rational and was failing miserably.
“Watch your tone with my wife, Sting. I like you. Doesn’t mean I won’t kill you.”
I took a breath. He was right. I needed to get myself together, but a panic seized me that I couldn’t stem. I knew in my heart where she was headed. “That fuckin’ warehouse,” I muttered. “She’s headed to that fuckin’ warehouse.”
Which meant there was going to be a massive change of plans. And I was going to need every single member of my club present to pull this off. I pulled out my phone and sent a group text.
All hands on deck. Bike garage.
Less than five minutes later, the nine members of Iron Tzars I’d brought with me gathered near our equipment, scouring over the maps of the area.
“What the shit, Sting? Big fuckin’ change of plan, don’t you think?” Wylde scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “I’ll do whatever you say, but this seems a bit extreme.”
“Prez knows what he’s doin’.” Brick, my vice president, spoke quietly as he studied the map of the area around the warehouse and where we expected the kids to be taken. The man didn’t look up or speak loudly, but Wylde didn’t say another word.
“Team one will be on the kids. You stick to them like fuckin’ glue.” I gave the order to Brick. He was an ex-con. Did twenty-five years in prison.
When I met him, he’d struggled to fit into society but had thrived in the Tzars. Of all the men I knew, I trusted Brick the most to complete any task I set him on. He’d never failed me and had been at my side when things had gone wrong more than once. Not only did he help me clean up any messes, but he’d taken the heat instead of letting it fall to me. More than once I was afraid he’d end up back in jail, but me or Warlock had always managed to keep him out. We’d fought over it once. I’d busted his balls for taking the heat on what could have ended up with him facing another murder conviction. He’d told me then he didn’t care what it cost him. He’d always have my back. I’d met him when I was twenty-three and he was forty-five. Six years ago. It was like the age gap between us made little difference. He was my right hand. True to his word, he’d always had my back. Which was good, because I was depending on him more than I ever had.
“We won’t lose them. Who do you want to go with me?”
“You choose your team. You will not engage them unless you feel there is a danger you’re gonna lose them. Under no circumstances are you to lose Jerrica.”
“I won’t lose any of ‘em, Prez.” Brick addressed me as Prez as a show of respect, but also to remind some of the older guys in no uncertain terms that I was in charge now. Not Warlock. “Gimmie Cyrus, Roman, and Morgue. The four of us can handle it.”
“Good. Atlas, Shooter, and Snake are with me. Wylde, you set up with Shotgun and keep an eye on things from here. I want you watchin’ every fuckin’ thing. If there’s a fuckin’ rat in that warehouse, I wanna know about it. Same with the kids. Use every resource you can to have eyes on them from the time they exit that warehouse until they are safely back here.” I looked around the circle of men who were Iron Tzars. “No mistakes. Get the kids to safety. Kill every other motherfucker in the area. Use your best discretion.”
Brick gave me a crisp nod, then left with his men to plan their part in this venture. There was every possibility Iris would either be captured or killed before we got there, but I wasn’t writing her off yet. I wasn’t going to storm Hell with a water pistol either. If we took out the warehouse and the people in it tonight, we wouldn’t be going in blind. I’d know exactly who was inside.
Atlas crossed his arms over his chest. As the club’s Sergeant at Arms, he was going to want answers. So I leveled my gaze on him. “She’s mine, Atlas.”
“Does she know that?” Atlas grinned, obviously amused at my expense. “‘Cause I kinda think she hasn’t gotten the memo.”
“She will.”
He shrugged. “Have you even said more than two words to her?”
“Not your business.” Motherfucker was enjoying this way too fucking much. Can’t say I didn’t deserve it. “Don’t matter much anyway. Girl could be in trouble. We can’t abandon her.”
“Is it abandonment if she ran off straight into trouble?” The way Snake frowned told me he didn’t like the situation. He’d been in the club for more than twenty years and had been one of a few who’d voted against me becoming president. Couldn’t say I blamed him. The man had watched me grow up. Several of them had. He had come around somewhat but kept a close eye on me.
“Sometimes it feels like I’m a kid riding a bike when the adults refuse to take off the training wheels.” I muttered the resentment under my breath before addressing Snake. “You don’t want to be part of this, you should have said so from the beginning. Brick could have left your ass back in Evansville. You want out? Tell me now. I ain’t plannin’ somethin’ only to have a member of my fuckin’ team balk at the last fuckin’ minute.”
Snake raised his hands in surrender. “You’re the prez. I’m just not sure changing the plan for one girl is a good idea. Not when we don’t have long to plan for it.”
“Ain’t a democracy, Snake.” I turned my attention to Atlas and jerked my head in Snake’s direction. “Find me someone in this club you trust to make up the third man in Brick’s team. And get this fuckin’ pussy outa my sight.”
“Hey, Sting. Just relax.” Snake chuckled like it was all a big fucking joke. “No need to get out of sorts. I’m just tryin’ to inject some reason into the team. You’ve got something other than the job on your mind.”
“You think I’m makin’ the same mistake my old man made?”
“Didn’t say that.”
“Didn’t have to.” I gave Snake my hardest stare.
Atlas put a hand on his shoulder, and Snake shrugged him off. “You can’t run off everyone who questions you, son. We only do it for your own good. And for the good of the club.”
“I’m the fuckin’ president, Snake. I can do what the fuck I want. There’s a chain of command. You don’t like something, you take it to Brick or Atlas. If they think it’s worthy of my attention, they will bring it to me. Now. Get the fuck out. You’re confined to quarters until we’re ready to leave for home, or until I need you.”
“Goddamned stubborn pup.” Snake stalked off, getting in a parting shot.
Atlas shot off a quick text. I had no idea who he texted, but I suspected Warlock. As Enforcer of Black Reign, he’d be responsible for anyone with discipline problems.
“You can’t always call in my father for back up, Atlas.”
“Nope. And I didn’t this time. I texted Black Reign’s enforcer. The last thing we need is for that son of a bitch causing trouble in another club’s territory.” I met Atlas’s gaze. “You know you’re gonna have to dismiss him from Tzars.”
“Not unless it’s absolutely necessary. I’m not ready for what that entails.”
Atlas nodded. “At least you can admit it. Brick can take care of him. He would anyway.”
“No. Anyone leaves the club for any reason, it’s my responsibility. So, if I have to kick him out, I won’t do it when I’m angry at him. I’ll do it with a clear head and after I’ve discussed it with you and Brick. Not before.”
