“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.”
“A coup?” asked Henry.
Ramirez nodded and blinked slowly. “He was, in fact, the architect of the arson previously in your territory, the one to which your man referred earlier.” He nodded toward Will. “Paulo orchestrated the violence that led to our treaty, and he was always resentful of losing his men and the territory for the act. He never agreed with my decision to accord with your club. Apparently, his first act to overthrow me was to rectify that situation and start where he left off.” Ramirez looked down at the corpses in the van and sighed. “How he was able to talk the others into it, I don’t know. But it’s over.”
Will’s chest tightened, adrenaline running through his veins. He stared down at the familiar bodies in the van, knowing one of them was the man responsible for his grandmother’s death—truly responsible. And he had almost done it again with Eva. More than that, he saw in Paulo’s anger and resentment some ghost of his future, where resentment for his own club led him to do something as drastic as Paulo had—and with as high a price. Could that have been him in the back of one of the MC’s vans, snuffed out by Henry, or even Jase, for endangering the club in his prideful quest for retribution? In more ways than one, Will suddenly felt like he had barely missed being hit by a freight train.
“You have my word that this will not become an issue again while I lead,” said Ramirez. “Your pass will remain untouched, and your men need not worry about having to dole out beatings anymore. I’m sorry you had reason to doubt your faith in us.”
Henry held his hand out and Ramirez shook it. “Good. Let’s get back to business as usual, then.”
He stood staring at the van as voices faded into the quiet around him. Suddenly men were closing the doors, hopping inside, and starting up the vehicle. Jase’s hand landed on his shoulder.
Jase looked down at Will, and worry crossed his face. “You all right? You look pale.”
Will looked back at the closed doors of the van as the brake lights blazed red, tailpipe belching. He felt lightheaded. “Yeah, just…” He backed up, unsteady, until his back hit the cold, hard concrete of the docking bay wall. He slid down to the floor. “Just give me a minute.”
Jase knelt down next to him and said nothing. From back in the bay, Ghost wandered over with a curious look on his face.
“You need some water?”
Will shook his head. His stomach roiled and his pulse beat in his head like a muffled drum. It was like some floodgate inside him had broken open and spilled inside his brain as soon as he heard Ramirez’s words, as soon as he comprehended the sight he was seeing in the back of the van. Had some deep part of Will’s lizard brain understood all this time that someone hadn’t paid for the death of his grandmother? Had he known, somehow, Paulo was out there? Because at this moment, he felt the relief he had expected to feel when he shot the arsonists two years ago in this very warehouse. Relief hadn’t come then, but it arrived now so forcefully that Will felt like he was being yanked up and out of a nightmare.
In his mind’s eye, he saw Eva; sweet, beautiful Eva in her delicate dresses, smiling up at him, kissing his skin, writhing underneath him. A horrifying realization washed over him. If he hadn’t been so distraught in his grief—if he hadn’t been unsettled—he might never have started going to Swashbuckler’s. He would have never met Eva, and he wouldn’t have been able to protect her from the cartel. He knew deep in his gut that both she and Charlie would be ash and bone right now, if not for the crushing grief that drove Will to visit the site of his deepest pain.
His mind felt stuffed, ready to break. He looked up and saw Jase searching his face with curious eyes.
“What’s up?” asked Jase.
Will shook his head as if to say he didn’t know. He took a few breaths and tried to find the words. “I just… I’m overwhelmed.”
Jase nodded. “Understandable.”
“Call me crazy,” said Ghost, walking closer, “but you look like a completely different man right now, Will.”
“You’re crazy,” said Will half-heartedly.
Ghost chuckled. “I’m serious. Look at his eyes, Jase.” He pointed. “You’re telling me that’s the same guy that was pushing you around the bar an hour ago?”
Jase did as Ghost asked and turned to look Will in the eyes. Will expected it to make him uncomfortable, as it consistently had the last six months, but he didn’t feel that way now. It was like Jase looked different, too.