Page 66 of Jagger's Remorse
"Hammer's wounded," she adds.
"And pissed about it. Angry men fight harder," I explain.
"Who else?" she asks.
"Joker, Mouse, and Blade. Both steady, both loyal," I answer.
"Can they handle seeing you 'die'?" she questions.
"If I tell them it's necessary," I confirm.
"Then tell them. We leave in twenty," she orders.
She moves to the door, all business now.
"Scarlett," I call out.
"What?" she pauses.
"After this. After Diego and Three Devils and whatever comes next. We need to talk," I say.
"About?" she asks.
"Everything. Your endgame. Mine. This thing between us," I elaborate.
"Thisthing?" she echoes.
"Don't play dumb. You know what I mean," I press.
"I know what youthinkyou mean." She looks back. "But Jagger? Some things don't have names. They just have body counts."
She's gone before I can respond.
I gear up, putting on my Kevlar vest, loading up weapons, and extra mags.
The St. Michael pendant feels heavier than usual.
Like even the saints know this is a bad idea.
I meet my brothers in the garage.
Fill them in on the minimum they need to know.
"So we're trusting the cartel princess?" Joker asks.
"We're trusting me," I correct. "Follow my lead, no matter what it looks like."
"Even if it looks like you're dying?" Blade questions.
"Especially then," I confirm.
They exchange glances but nod.
Brotherhood means trust, even when the plan sounds insane.
Scarlett appears, dressed for war.
All black, hair pulled back, enough weapons to outfit a small army.
