Eva didn’t respond. She didn’t have an answer for that. The sounds of the forest filled the silence between them.

Charlie sighed and came closer. “Look… all right,” he said, his voice calm. “All right. You’re right, the guy has clearly been through a lot. And I will even go so far as to say he maybe, probably thought he was doing the right thing, protecting us. Or protecting you, is probably more accurate.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“He doesn’t look at you like you’re a stranger, Eva. He looks at you like he’s known you all his life. If I had to guess, I’d say your feelings are reciprocated.”

Eva blushed and felt her stomach twist in nervous knots.

“But you have to believe me when I say that Will’s plan, it wasn’t safe. It was insane.”

Eva looked down in silence at the grass swaying at her feet, the sweet wildflowers bending and bobbing. She couldn’t admit that she had been worried about Will’s plan, too. In all earnestness, she assumed his tactical mind would see it was a bad plan as soon as he was a few days removed from the victory in the bar. But could she really blame Charlie for what he had done—for not seeing what she saw in Will?

“What do you think is going to happen to him?” whispered Eva.

Charlie rubbed a gentle hand up and down her arm. “I don’t know. But I’m sure he’ll be fine. He’s definitely capable of taking care of himself.”

~ SEVENTEEN ~

Tension ran up Will’s back and shoulders, all the way into his head, as he followed Jase and Ghost down the long hallway. On their separate bikes, he had followed his MC brothers not back to the Black Dogs clubhouse, but to an abandoned factory in the foothills outside of LeBeau where they frequently conducted meetings such as these. In fact, they had acquired the place after finding it when Jase’s now-wife and Henry’s daughter, Maggie, was kidnapped and held hostage by a rival gang. Will had flashes of the memories of helping to save her as he was led through the empty main machine room, past the empty concrete storage rooms, and into a vast open shipping bay.

Dim, dusty sunlight came through the enormous windows at the top of the room, some of them with glass shattered long ago and spider webs in their place. Already, men waited for them as they entered the room. Will could see Henry, his president, waiting with a cold look on his face. Across from his club, a line of Latino men stood. Two of them wore fine, tailored suits, their jet-black hair slicked neatly against their heads and drawn back in tight ponytails. The other three dressed much like the men who Will had fought at Swashbucklers, in jeans and tactical boots and leather jackets meant to be intimidating. Will only recognized one of them: Jorge Ramirez, leader of the cartel himself, in the blue pinstripes. The last time Will had seen him was when he had offered up the men who murdered Will’s grandmother.

Will walked up to Henry and realized he hadn’t seen him in a while. There was something strange about the feeling. He met Henry’s face with a blank expression, unsure what to expect.

“Can we get this started, at last?” said Ramirez.

Will looked around at the faces. “What’s going on?”

Henry sighed and walked to the center of the line, standing next to Will. Without instruction, Ghost and Jase sidled to the ends, flanking.

“Seems we have some problems to attend to,” said Henry.

“Is this the pendejo who has sent mine home, bleeding and broken?” The other man in the suit pointed a fat finger at Will, snarling. He trailed off in Spanish, something Will couldn’t translate, but knew wasn’t a compliment.

Will squared his shoulders as adrenaline began to pump through his veins. “I take it that means you’re the shit-for-brains who sent your men to get beaten in the first place?”

Henry slapped a huge palm on Will’s chest and gave him a stone look. He pushed him back to stand a few steps behind, and Will didn’t argue. Henry turned to the Latino men. “This is a clear violation of the treaty we drew up, Ramirez. We keep the mountain pass free and clear, and you keep your men from any operations inside LeBeau or Howlett. That was the deal. Now I’ve got word of your men pushing in on bar in Howlett? This is unacceptable.”

“Not just any fucking bar,” said Will. “The bar built on the ashes of the place you fucked up last time. This isn’t just political betrayal, this is sacrilege.”

“Betrayal? You are the one who has started warfare with my men,” said Ramirez. “Not a single firearm brought to the fights, no one was threatened with death, and yet they come home with stories that you threatened to shoot them. Is this not also a violation of your treaty?”

Henry stiffened. “Your men wouldn’t have been in any goddamn danger if they hadn’t been trying to break the rules in the first place! You fucking agreed to this, Ramirez—no cartel business in my goddamn towns. This is my corridor, you understand? And you play by my rules if you want to get through it smoothly.” He took two steps toward the cartel leader. “The truce has been violated by your men, first and foremost. Are you going to do something about it—or do I have to?”

Ramirez narrowed his eyes at Henry. “Be careful, Black Dog.”

“Go fuck yourself,” said Henry without fear. “You fix this, or we’ll withdraw the whole treaty right here and now and see who comes out on top.”

Everyone in the room tensed, eyes shifting from face to face, waiting for someone to break. Everyone except Ghost—Will swore he heard him giggle in delight as he unclipped his sidearm in its holster, readying to pull.

Will stared unblinking and angry at Ramirez as the man stared at Henry, clearly in thought. For a few moments, everything was silent and still as Ramirez weighed his options and everyone else waited to see if his decision would end in chaos and death.

Finally Ramirez seemed to sigh almost indiscernibly. “I see there is no other solution to this problem. I will be straightforward with you, Henry. This problem with the bar is a symptom of something bigger—something I was hoping to have worked out internally before it affected my allies.”

Henry turned to Will and gave him a curious look. Will returned it, as in the dark as his leader was.

“Leadership is a very precarious thing. Even the appearance of weakness can threaten it,” said Ramirez.

“I understand that well,” said Henry with a nod. “If you’re asking for our discretion, we will provide it—assuming we come to a satisfactory agreement for this violation.”

Ramirez nodded. “Gentlemen, would you be so kind as to follow me?” He waved hands at his own men, gesturing them to lead the way, a show of trust to leave the MC at their backs. Will and his brothers exchanged glances with each other, making sure everyone was on guard and paying attention as they followed the cartel carefully through the shipping bay to the last rolling door at the end of a long line of docks meant for eighteen wheelers and other big machinery. One of the men in the leather jackets hoisted up the noisy door, with only a little trouble, from its rusted hinges.

A black van sat cold and silent just outside the door. The man in the jacket jumped down off the dock and opened the rear double-doors of the van before stepping back and out of the way.

Will and the MC shuffled up toward the door to get a look at the van. Inside, they saw the bodies of five men stacked in a haphazard pile, wrists tied and eyes blindfolded. When he looked closely, Will could see one of the bodies still wore a sling and a cast on his broken arm.

“These are the men responsible for bringing us here today,” said Ramirez, folding his hands in front of him. “Four of my lieutenants were talked into the scheme by… unfortunately, by a man who was once my closest ally. His name was Paulo, and he was attempting to sow the seeds for my upheaval from power.”