Page 56 of Fury
Florida fiasco
“Jesus fucking Christ.” Fury stared at the screen, watching the video Myron had queued up. They’d allowed only officers in the room, and other than Myron, it was the first time any of them were seeing what had gone down in Florida three days ago. Fury jolted as he watched Bones fall, neck twisting involuntarily to flinch away from what he was seeing. Even knowing Bones was okay, pissed as fuck but recovering temporarily at the clubhouse in Little Rock, this was hard to watch.
Fury flexed his fists, every bone, knuckle, and muscle in his hands and arms complaining. Things had moved at warp speed over the past few days, and he was still coming to terms with everything.
He’d spent nearly a week in California, trying and failing to get in to see Shooter. The intent had been for him to deliver a message in the clearest possible fashion, while assuring the club that one of their greatest enemies was still securely behind bars. That visit to a prison wasn’t anything he’d wish on anyone, and just making the walk up to the visitor intake building had nearly sucked his courage dry. Then, when things went sideways, and he’d been detained for three full days, Fury had nearly lost his mind. Not in a cell, things never went quite that far, but just knowing he wasn’t free to leave had played havoc on him. He’d been allowed no calls, so he didn’t know if anyone even knew what was going on. In the end it was for nothing, because not only didn’t he get to see Shooter, the man hadn’t even been in Cali, as evidenced by subsequent events.
On the screen, the pixels that represented Mason stood over Morgan for a moment. Words were spoken, the sounds indistinct, speakers in the coffee shop blown out by the concussions of the earlier shots. Morgan made a motion towards where Shooter lay on his back, head tilted at an unnatural angle, eyes already turning cloudy. Bones lifted his gun at the same time Mason did, both men reacting to whatever it was Morgan had said, and the speakers clearly picked up the sounds of four shots. Morgan’s body jerked and he fell backwards off his chair, elbow catching and turning over the table where he’d been sitting. Stillness on the screen for a moment, then the speakers picked up the shrill screams of a girl. Fury knew that was the barista, barricaded in the bathroom, at that point already on the phone with the police.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he repeated, shaking his head. “We know what was said?”
Myron nodded. “Mason wants to wait to brief everyone on that when he and Bones are back in Chicago. We’ll be calling a national meet for officers, and he’ll go over everything there.” He stopped fiddling with the laptop in front of him. “I’ve got to get back to Chicago tonight. Ester is with Road Runner, but I promised her I’d be back in a few hours.” Ester was Bones’ old lady, a quirky, flighty woman that Fury found himself liking for the man. Bones’ stick-up-his-ass attitude melted clean away when Ester was in the room, and seeing him like that humanized the myth somewhat.Who knew I’d wind up liking the asshole?Myron got his attention again when he said, “Now we need to hear about St. Louis.”
Fury clenched his fists again, the ache returning and blooming into a more acute pain.
“St. Louis,” he repeated Myron’s words with a sigh. “Fuckin’ nuts, man. I was leaving Taft, fuckin’ finally, after they’d jacked with me for too long, and you—” He angled his head, nodding at Myron. “—had me head there instead of back to Mother.” Pain shot through his hands, and he realized he’d been clenching his fists again. “I found a situation I still don’t rightly understand. Pike—” He glanced around the room to see recognition on every face, so they at least knew who he was talking about. “—had crossed over to the deep end of crazy, and made threats to national officers and the club. I investigated,”—he’d searched rooms and pockets, talked to a dozen men, consulted with key Rebel players—“and found the local officers’ concerns were warranted. They’d secured him.” Pike had been held in the basement, in a small room, dark and smelling of old piss and bleach, lights buzzing from behind their cages. “Pike had already removed his patches, tossed them on the floor, and demanded a beatout.” Fury shrugged. “I’d already talked to officers who had indicated that might be expected. So I delivered. Dyno moved from SAA to President, and they’re filling the hole with another local member Mason sanctioned. That’s”—he shook his hands out, tucking one thumb into a back pocket to try and stop himself from the compulsive movement—“what went down in St. Louis.”
“Did you know about Pike before you went there? What he’d done?” Bear’s distinctive New Jersey accent didn’t show its face often, but it was there now, signifying the tension surrounding this question.
“What he’d done to his sister’s husband? I think everyone knows about Harddrive, brother.” Fury shook his head. “That’s family, not club. Did not factor.”
“What he fuckin’ did to you, man. Did you fuckin’ know?” Slate was behind Fury, and he twisted in place, turning to face the man, shaking his head.
“Pike never did anything to me. I didn’t like him, but that was more his attitude than anything.”
“Entitled asshole, through and through.” Gunny threw his opinion in the ring and Fury nodded. “We’ve all seen how he’d wander in, lording himself over the members and prospects, trying to wow the women. He’s a fucktard, no doubt, but the question on the floor”—with that, Fury realized this had turned from a witness conversation about what had happened on the screen to their national president, and into something else, a niggling trickle of fear curling around his balls, drawing them up tight to his body as he remembered the beating he’d taken in the basement of this building.Will I never move past that?Gunny continued—“is did you know what Pike did to you?” Fury shook his head. “Nothing? Not a clue?”
“Asked and answered, brother.” Fury squared his shoulders, turning to face the big man. “Spit out what you got to say. You’re wasting my fucking time.”
“He don’t know.” Slate leaned back in his chair. “Fuck me runnin’, he really don’t know.”
“Already said that, more than once. You a fan of makin’ me repeat myself?” Now Fury was pissed, crossing over the line from annoyed to angry. “Not sure what you’re talking about, and I do not appreciate the way you’re trying to put me off balance. Spit—” He leaned forwards at the waist. “—it out.”
“Pike is the one who called Mason. Told him you were a Fed plant. Told him he had papers from Ling in Memphis that named you. Pike twisted shit and twisted shit, and played it out until Mason didn’t have any choice but to call you in.” Myron closed the laptop with a snap, turning it upside down and removing the battery before putting it in a messenger bag. “Pike coulda gotten you killed with what he played. They…we were wondering if you’d put that together before you hit St. Louis.” Myron looked around the room, fingers working to fasten the buckles on the bag. “Pretty clear to me that wasn’t the case. Which I already told all of you. Only six of us knew who had made that call. Damn sure I didn’t talk about it after Mason gagged us. Pretty sure you were the same.” He turned back to Fury. “With it not proving true, it wouldn’t do for there to be division in the club.” He shrugged. “You get it, and Mason knew you would if it ever came out.”
“Oh, I get it,” Fury gritted out between clenched teeth. “Don’t mean I like it.” He swung his gaze around the room, pausing on each man, forcing them to meet his eyes. “This has me thinking Mason was wrong. Slate was wrong. And me? I for sure was fucking wrong.” He shook his head. “This isn’t the first time you’ve called me to the floor.” Slate sat up, twisting to face him, mouth open to argue but Fury cut him off. “Don’t mince words, man.” He deliberately withheld the word he would normally use, considering this was beyond the pale and he was infuriated. “What you orchestrated just now? Same as, don’t deny it. You don’t trust me, because I came in from Diamante and you’re warring with them. You don’t trust me, because I got tangled up with what went down with Gunny. And now, you don’t trust me because some of you beat the fuck out of me on the say-so of a man who’s turned into a goddamned cut.” Angry, he was so angry he could feel the blood pounding in his temples, hear every beat in his ears. “So you’ve called me out, questioned me in ways you would never have dared do with Slate, Bones, Tater,fuck—anyone. You want me out, you’ll have to take my patch, but it won’t kill me to explain to Mason why I’m handing back the office plate. Fuck you.” He pounded his chest with a closed fist, knowing his anger was misplaced, but not willing to put a halt to his words. “I know the kind of brother I am. You don’t, then that’s your goddamned,fuckingloss.” He turned to walk out only to pull up short, Myron standing in his way. “Move, man.”
“Nope. You’re stuck here. I know you. You won’t turn your back on the club, this chapter, or a single brother in this room.” Shaking his head, Myron lifted his arms to the side, palms forward. “They went about it wrong, but they meant well.”
“I don’t like it.”
“You don’t have to.” Myron shrugged. “What you said means there’s a void in St. Louis, and we have a mouth on the loose that we might not want to leave that way. I say we set a hunter on Pike, bring him back into the fold.” He glanced at Fury. “I can’t make that call, though.”
Pike. Fucking Pike. He hadn’t recognized the man until St. Louis, but he’d been one of Dion’s cronies. That meant he might know what Fury’s gig had been back before the MC life. If he knew and flapped his lips, it could bring everything down.A life built on lies. Fuck. “I don’t think there’s a man in here wants me to makethatfucking call.”
“You’re wrong.” That was Gunny, and what must be his footsteps sounded until he stood behind Fury.
“I agree.” Bear’s twang had subsided, but his voice was still distinctive. “Your call, boss.”
Myron held his gaze unflinching, waiting.
Fury sighed. “He’s been playing alongside the boys who don’t hesitate to pull in family.” Fury was thinking aloud at this point, wanting every man to follow his reasoning so there wouldn’t be any questions. If they were determined to make him do this in spite of a demonstrated lack of confidence, he’d give them the demanded show. “We know how Diamante and the Outrider holdouts are.” When Shooter went to prison, some of the Outrider chapter folded, some of them shifted away from the things he’d driven them towards, but a few chapters had held the line, maintaining they were the loyal ones who would be rewarded when Shooter got out.Ain’t no rewards comin’ their way now.
“They’ll bring blood right back to a man’s doorstep, putting it in the way of everything we have. If he winds up in the wrong place, wrong time, he knows a fuck of a lot of info about all of us.” Pike had been a Rebel for years, made regular visits to some of the clubhouses. That meant he had friends or at least acquaintances he might reach out to. “With everything that’s happened, we didn’t do a general notification about him being out bad. I think we need to do that now, see what it stirs up.”Beth’s forgiven me, even if I can’t forgive myself. If it comes out, it comes out. I won’t kill a man to save my ass like this. “He betrays us in word or deed, if we heard even a breath of him talking out of turn, we hunt him down. Until then…” He looked at the faces of the men, seeing agreement written there. “…we let him dig his own holes.”
***
“But I dun wanna.” The slurred words caught his attention and Fury glanced to his right where Bethy leaned against his shoulder. Eyes closed, her lips were pursed in irritation. Mikey was sprawled in the backseat, head against one door, feet stretched out towards the other side, earbuds in place a silent protest to Fury’s commandeering of the radio. Windows down, they were on their way from Nashville to Adken, Florida, where Mason would meet them and facilitate the introduction of the two sisters. With the windows down, the moving air had teased strands of Bethy’s hair free from her attempts to tame it. Fury smiled as it moved across his skin, as if even in her sleep Bethy was caressing him. She shifted, and he glanced at her again, seeing her nose wrinkle and her lips pull to the side. Whatever she was dreaming, it wasn’t making her the happiest camper on the block.
