Zane flung the bat across the grass bordering the road. “I should’ve just gone on my own. Snuck in while everyone was distracted. I coulda been in and outta there with T-Rex by now.”
“Not a chance.” Benson loosened the collar of his blue police shirt. “Even though it’s pretty much deserted, that place is like a fortress, and they’ve left all their guards. We passed through an electric fence, dogs, a metal detector, and a slab of muscle at the door just to get into the clubhouse. They have cameras everywhere.”
“I don’t need to get into the clubhouse.” Zane wiped the sweat from his temple. “The door is on the outside.”
“We can try another day,” Benson said.
Jagger and Zane shared a glance and Zane’s tension eased. They were on the same page. They’d waited too long already. Today was the day and if Plan A didn’t work, then they would move to Plan B.
“I think we need to take advantage of the opportunity we bought ourselves.” Jagger mused, rubbing his brow. “The club is running on a skeleton staff and they’ll have moved their weapons. We need a distraction. Something to keep them busy while we cut the fence and go inside. I was thinking—”
“Runaway truck filled with explosives?” Cade joined them beside the wrecked police car.
“That’s getting old.” Jagger chuckled. “I was thinking of a full-on assault.”
Cade raised his brows. “Suicide.”
“Not if we’re in the hills with sniper rifles.” Zane took the plan, rolled with it. “We can set up a roadblock by the bridge. Sparky’s still got a truck in his shop from the last transport job. We’ll park it sideways and toss the keys.”
“What about the electric fence?” Cade had offered to be Zane’s second when they’d first talked about breaching the perimeter. “It’s twenty-five feet high and has 10,000 volts running through it. They’re not gonna turn it off once we start shooting. Only way it goes off is if the gate is open.”
“Ram the gate,” Benson said. “That can be part of the distraction. Get me a truck and I’ll do it. I’m a dead man anyway once the sheriff or the ATF figure out the tip came from me. They’re already suspicious because of some of the work I’ve been doing for you. T-Rex is a good kid, and if this helps end the war between the clubs and saves lives, it’s worth the risk.” He held up a hand when Zane opened his mouth. “And before you try to talk me out of it, I’m not going in there actually thinking I’m gonna die. I’ll go in armed and in a vest, and I’ll bail at the earliest opportunity. But, yeah, there’s a risk, and if I come out of it alive, I want something from you.”
Jagger lifted an eyebrow in silent query.
“I wanna join your MC.”
“It’s not an open door policy,” Zane said, no small bit impressed by the cop’s audacity. “Everyone goes through the process.”
“We’ll need a new prospect after Shooter’s patched in.” Jagger’s lips twitched at the corners. “You know how to polish a bike, Benson?”
“Until it shines.”
Jagger’s phone vibrated in his hand and he checked the screen. “Got a message from Shooter. I’ll text him, and tell him to get the brothers together and bring out the trucks. Then we’ll go get T-Rex.”
Zane shook Benson’s hand. “Welcome to the club.”
*
Not happening. Not happening. Not happening.
Evie turned onto the highway heading south out of Conundrum. They’d stopped at four traffic lights and two stop signs and so far she hadn’t managed to draw anyone’s attention to the woman holding her at gunpoint in the vehicle. Where were the police who always seemed to catch her when she drove a measly five miles per hour over the speed limit? They hadn’t passed one single cruiser during their ride through the town.
The Sinners would be behind them. Somewhere. She had no doubt about that. But what were they going to do if she was in the Black Jack clubhouse? From what she’d heard around the club, the Jacks lacked even the semblance of humanity she’d been surprised to see in Zane’s biker brothers.
“I’m not with them,” she said as they passed the last of the residential areas.
“Yeah. I got that when I saw you standing there all innocent and pretty.” Doreen snorted her derision. “You gotta be hard to be a one-percenter biker chick, and that goes for lays, sweet butts, house mamas, and old ladies.”