Sons of Mayhem 1

Chapter 22

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Jase

There’s a time for peace and a time for war. There’s a time to forgive and forget, to negotiate and make amends, to make agreements and agree to let sleeping dogs lie. And then there are times when you have to gather your crew, grab your weapons and kick some serious fucking ass. When Jase saw the staring unseeing eyes of his friend he knew what time it was.

The clubhouse was quiet as Jase sat in a booth, his left hand grasping Nicole’s far too tightly, his right holding a glass of whisky far too early. There were angry and sad mutterings as the members of the club slowly drifted in as the news spread. The air was tense and the possibility of violence hung like a dark cloud over the room. The sadness they felt overshadowed by anger, a quiet seething rage that they knew had to be sated. Now the men were waiting. Waiting for leadership, waiting to be told what to do, who to beat, who to punish, who to shoot or maim.

He didn’t speak as he let the rage roil inside him. There was nothing he wanted better than to grab some weapons and go shoot every last Mexican fuckhead he could find. But it wasn’t time, not yet.

His eyes shot to the front of the room as the clubhouse door smashed open and the Doctor hurried in, spotting Jase immediately and heading over. At last. The other members, hangers on and pledges gave quiet nods or single words of greeting; no one dared to interrupt him.

The Doctor stood over the booth and his expression was grim, his eyes filled with pain. “I just got the news. Let’s go.” He nodded his head in the direction of the meeting room.

Jase released Nicole’s hand, surprised at how tight his grip was and that she hadn’t complained. As he got up to follow the Doctor he glanced over his shoulder and gave Nicole a wan smile as he left. Even after last night and the shock of the morning she still looked good. Seeing her sitting there lit a tiny spark of warmth in his cold heart, immediately extinguished when he remembered what had happened.

There was a heavy weight in Jase’s stomach as he walked across the room, side by side with the Doctor, everyone’s eyes on them. With Bigfella absent it was up to them to make the decisions for the club, to guide them, and most importantly, to get revenge.

The doors swung closed as Jase and the Doctor sat down across from each other, next to where Bigfella should have been sitting. “What the fuck, Jase?”

“What the fuck.” Jase agreed.

The Doctor looked him in the eyes. Jase thought he could see some hesitancy, as if he was looking at him for approval, or guidance or… something. “What the hell’s going on?”

Jase sighed, his fingers digging into his palms as he squeezed his fists tight. “Someone’s fucking with us, Doc. This shit with Bigfella? This shit with the Mexicans? Someone’s motherfuckin’ playing us.”

The Doctor nodded. “What are we going to do?”

His stomach in knots, Jase spoke words he wondered if he’d regret. “The Mexicans killed Brodie. Our brother. My friend. They killed him. He was on a motherfuckin’ mission of peace. And those burrito-eating fuckheads murdered him. They believed the fuckin’ sheriff that it was Bigfella that shot their men? Fuckheads. I don’t give a fuck if someone is playing us, or playing them. We have to avenge Brodie. Then we’ll worry about every-fucking-thing else.”

The Doctor sat in a silence for a second, two, three. A pang of doubt flashed across Jase’s mind. Am I wrong, Doc? We have to avenge Brody, right? Please don’t suggest we meet with them… A look of almost relief flashed across Doc’s face. “Agreed. Even if someone is playing us off against the Mexicans those bean-eaters fucked up.”