I donât have a lot of time, especially if I donât want anyone noticing me leaving. I grab my helmet, stick it in my duffle bag, and head out to my bike. I wonât be on it long anyway, but I need to be careful. Because if Dmitri gets wind of this, Iâm as good as dead. Though, with how pissed he was when he called me earlier, Iâm as good as dead anyway.
This is why itâs always good to have a contingency plan. And mine is meeting me very soon to discuss our next steps.
I drive through the dark, heading away from the clubhouse, nodding at the Prospect on duty. I always time my exits when one of the lazy ones are on gate duty. They spend more time on their phones or complaining to each other to notice who I am and where Iâm going.
Bull would have put a bullet through their brains if he was still President. I have half a mind to, but that would draw suspicion and I already feel the heat. But my plan is just about complete, and Iâm ready to strike while everyone is at their weakest; I just need to make sure that the last few pieces of the puzzle are in place. I canât afford any more mistakes.
When I reach the spot where I left my other bike, I quickly hide mine in the abandoned shed under an old tarp I found before slipping out the back and down the old overgrown road that leads to another shed further in. This place, well, I conveniently made sure that Dmitri didnât have access to this one. This was Bullâs favorite place, and I donât need Dmitri and his men tainting it.
Old and run down, the forest has all but reclaimed it. Itâs not visible, even from the main road. In the dark, thereâs nothing but the light of my bikeâs headlamp until I reach the point where I have to stop and park, and walk the rest of the way in.
When I finally reach the cabin, I unlock it and head inside, turning on the lamp in the corner to give the room a soft glow as I set my duffle down and dig out my supplies. Then I reach under the cot in the corner of the room and pull out the insurance I need.
âYouâre one crafty son of a bitch, Iâll give you that,â a deep voice behind me says, startling me.
Slowly I turn and stare at the other man. I donât bother denying him. Whatâs the point? Heâs obviously figured out who I am. âHow did you figure it out?â I ask evenly. So far I donât see a gun, but I donât put it past him.
âWhen you came to the club, you asked for a certain room because you said you liked the view, and I never thought anything of it. I didnât question it until tonight, when I realized who that room used to belong to. Now I think itâs because you knew where to find Bullâs old journal. The one with all the information he kept that we could never find. So you either got lucky and found it, or someone told you where it was.â
My lips pull back into a cool grin. âMy, my, you are smart after all,â I say.
âSo which is it? You found it or someone told you?â
I shrug, because whatâs the harm in telling him? Heâs going to be dead so he wonât be exposing me. âYou see,â I say casually, âyou all thought you were so smart, killing him off with the rest of his men. But you forgot who else was loyal to him. Who else would be pissed that you killed their profits. That, and he knew it was coming. He knew there was a movement to push him out, all because everyone was such pussies and couldnât see what the club could become. How rich it could make everyone, how it could be everything you could ever want it to be.
âWell, you see, before they all killed him, he gave instructions and a few other keepsakes to one more person and sent them out of town. That person kept them safe until I could collect them, and in those keepsakes, I found the location of the book. From there, I realized why he kept them safe. Why he wanted me to have them. It is my responsibility to continue his empire and to take back his club. I personally donât want the club, but Iâll take everything else.
âYou have no idea how good it felt to be running this right under your noses while you were none the wiser. All going about your perfect little lives like nothing was amiss. Raking in money that is pennies compared to what Iâve been stashing away.â
âSo you went to the mafia?â he asks, fury clear on his face.
âI went to who I thought would pay handsomely for information.â
âYou son of a bitch,â he snarls, stepping forward. âI should kill you now.â
âYou could,â I say with a shrug, seeing the silhouette behind him. âBut I think youâre the one that will be taking this information to your grave. Say hi to Bull for me.â
He turns and stares at the man behind him. âFuck you,â he snarls, and those are the last words he speaks before the shot rings out.
He drops to the ground, a bullet hole in the center of his forehead.
âYou say too much,â the other man says, accent thick. âYou are lucky he was alone.â
I shrug, uncaring. âHe would be dead anyway, and no one will suspect me.â
âYour ego will be your downfall, but I donât care as long as you give me what I want,â he says coldly.
I nod and grab the duffle bag. I should probably feel bad about his death, but he was merely an obstacle in my path.