They’re gone barely five minutes when the Feds move in. The infamous Holder crashes through our gates finding every brother in the clubhouse putting away some booze. A few of the guys are getting in one last blow job. On my orders, no one puts up resistance.
“What are you smiling about asshole?” This Holder guy is a real dick with a serious Napoleon complex. He sneers at me only because he’s surrounded by over thirty men holding some serious hardware in a clubhouse full of unarmed men. Take away his credentials and he’s just an asshole who needs to run to his safe-space to get through the day.
I don’t say a word, just give him one of my …show more content…
Glad we burned down the Saints clubhouse.” Gator readjusts the pillow behind his head as he relaxes on the ugly flowered comforter that’s seen better days.
“Believe it. That Holder guy was about to lose his job…” Shit. Wait, wait, wait! What did Menendez say about the Saints clubhouse? I jump up from the bed internally shouting, “Think Alessandra.”
The missing puzzle piece finally falls into place.
“Gator, do you know where the Saints clubhouse used to be?” I’m excited and, more importantly, hopeful for the first time since the raid.
I jump onto his bed—Yeah, we’re sharing a room—he might not be able to force me to Dallas but he wasn’t letting me out of his sight. “We need to go there, now.”
I never thought I would utter these words but thank God for Menendez. His former compound held a treasure trove of information that is going to free all my men. He wasn’t kidding when he said the property held a lot of memories. I didn’t particularly think they were good memories as he put it but they were valuable