For years, I’ve followed Bronco around, acting as his personal bodyguard. He likes how I scare people just by standing still. I learned a lot while watching him and Lowell work. They always devise their plans in private and then share them with the group. The Executioners aren’t a democracy, and Bronco doesn’t want to spitball ideas with his club brothers.
“With John Marks in the mix, everything comes into play,” Bronco says, shoving his hands in his jeans pockets. “Watch your people, keep your kids in the community, look out for strangers. Marks has the cult thinking in apocalyptic terms. They came at Anders, guns blazing. There’s no reason to think they aren’t willing to send a few suicide shooters into our community. Marks won’t give two shits if he gets all those people killed. He’s playing the role of dictator, and he’s never once paid a real price for his bullshit. That’s who we’re dealing with, so don’t lower your guard.”
Bronco nods at Lowell, who says, “The blockade at the Village continues. If you’re on perimeter duty, assume they’ll fire on you like they did Anders.”
“That’s it for now,” Bronco adds.
Though I suspect he planned to say more, Wyatt’s bullshit and Conor’s idea likely threw him off his game. Or maybe I’m reading everything wrong tonight. My mind keeps flashing back to Pixie in my house. I think of her bare feet dancing around on the hardwood. Or her stretched out on my bed. Or her wide eyes during the movie last night.
“Titan, come with me,” Bronco mutters, waking my brain from its lovestruck stupor.
I follow him out of the main area to a smaller side room. Lowell joins us, but the men don’t speak. I assume more are coming. Rooster, Drummer, and Akron enter next.
“I need you to find out if John Marks is in that compound,” Bronco says, holding my gaze with his dark eyes. “I get the feeling they’re baiting us to attack. We go in there, lose some of our guys, kill a shit-ton of his people. All while, Marks hides in town or isn’t even in the state. We need to know when he was last spotted in the Village.”
“Okay,” I say.
Bronco glances back at the other men and then frowns harder at me. “We told you to stay the fuck away from the Village.”
“I know.”
“But you went anyway.”
“I think you knew I would. It’s why you didn’t put anyone on Redfoot Road.”
“Bullshit,” he grumbles, his dark eyes flashing with anger. “I expected you to do what you promised.”
“I couldn’t let her starve.”
“And what happens if the choice is her safety or ours? Who survives then, Anders?”
I finally catch up with what’s happening here. The last few years and my new fancy Sergeant at Arms title don’t mean shit. Now that I’ve fucked up, they view me as one of the Killing Joes again. I study the men and wonder what I’ll do if they jump me. Will I let them beat me down? Can I stand by while they put a bullet in me?
No, I don’t think I’ll be so agreeable. I have Pixie and her family to protect. If I have to run and hide with them, I will. I’ll die to protect Bronco, but not his ego.
“If you’re fixing to make a move, make it,” I say in a steady voice. “If you’re looking for me to cry, I don’t have it in me. If you’re trying to make me feel guilty, I don’t think I can. I saved my honey and her family, and I got info for the club. In my mind, I broke your rules, sure. But I also did right by everyone that matters, including the men in this room.”
Bronco glances at Lowell. The men have known each other for decades. They’re like an old married couple, sharing conversations with no more than facial expressions. I’ve never had a friend like that. Bronco isn’t my buddy. He’s my president. I’ll kill and die for him, but we aren’t close. Deep inside, I’ll always be a member of the club that ambushed Wheels. That’s a stink I can never wash off.
“I want John Marks dead,” Bronco says to the room. “I refuse to allow the fucker to sneak away this time. I want him gutted. I want his intestines sitting in the middle of the fucking road for the entire damn town to see. I want his cunt sister strung up from a streetlight. I want children scarred for life at the sight of her. I want this town to still talk about their deaths when I’m too old to get my dick to work. If this shit doesn’t end with them dead, we’re pathetic. Does everyone fucking understand?”
The men and I nod. Though some are pushing sixty, they’ve all got killing on their minds. Bronco comfortably plays the family man, but he can turn off every good thing inside him and slaughter anyone in his way. I saw him take on three guys once. Strung out, I sat on my ass and watched him butcher my club brothers.
Then he pointed his gun at me. Three years later, I’m staring into the same eyes. I know what Bronco wants, and I have no qualms about bringing him the heads of John and Steph Marks.
Before Pixie, I thought I would do anything for Bronco. Now, I know I have a limit. He understands that, too. Soon, we’ll both see if my limit ends our three-year-long uneasy truce.
PIXIE
Mama gets frustrated by shopping on the computer. There are too many choices. She tells Topanga how spending money on new clothes and furniture is wasteful when we need so little to survive.
Topanga is a lot like Mama in that she refuses to be told no. She also sees a problem and immediately wants to fix it.
Like how the Village’s horn signals a coming together for that community, Topanga’s phone alerts the Woodlands’
