BULL

THREE DAYS LATER

“Do y’all have your list for me to handover to my pops?” Gunner asks us men who are walking the path with him along the makeshift town.

“Yeah,” I reply, yanking my shopping list from the inside pocket of my cut. “I also want Pops to donate some money to Dot’s school in memory of her name. I want it known this is a charitable contribution for the students whose parents may need some financial help to get their kids Christmas this year. I’d like there to be a stipulation that there should be a guarantor to oversee the funds.”

“What type of stipulations are we talking about here?” Kruger asks, stroking his chin with his fingers.

“I don’t want money or gift certificates tossed in the parents' pockets, I want a wish list completed and the presents delivered on Christmas Eve so there’s no time to return the gifts for money. We all know that most of the time, struggling parents will put paying bills before buying shit for their kids to tuck underneath the tree. I understand that there’s a need for that service, but this is something that’s important to Dot, for no kid to feel less than another. I also wanna anonymously adopt five families whose bills I’ll pay six months in advance. I have a post office box in town that I’ve hidden some money in. Here’s the key,” I state, removing it from the fold of my wallet and passing it over to Gunner. “Tell Pops to take whatever he needs.”

“Wait a minute. Let me get this straight, you’re keeping money hidden at the post office?” Texas asks, dumbfounded at my chosen secret spot.

“If you think about it, that’s a genius place, and nobody can get into the box without a key. The law and our enemies would never consider that,” Malice hums. “Why didn’t any of us think of it?”

“And it’s well-guarded without me having to pay a dime for the service,” I amend.

“Outside of the yearly cost for the mailbox, that is,” Gunner quarrels.

“Yeah, however, the payment’s no more than pennies on the dollar for what I get in return,” I contest. “Did you guys not make any accommodations for Pops in case he needs funds to pay shit?”

“I handed over all of the club’s rainy-day money to him when he and Uncle Luca picked us up from the clubhouse,” Gunner replies. “I wasn’t sure if we’d need extra shit while we were down here and thought it’d be better to be prepared than have our families go without.”

“Seeing as we have no idea how long we’ll be trapped down here, that was good thinking,” Kruger says with a sigh. “I hate being stuck down here instead of above ground hunting and tracking down those Crumley brother scums.”

“How much did we have in the petty funds account?” Shamus asks Gunner trying to shift gears so that Kruger doesn’t start tearing some shit up. The man has an issue with holding back his temper when his family has been threatened.

“A little over three mil,” Gun answers, which is more than I thought we had in club funds, but at least our families are covered for a bit. “And Kruger, we all feel the same fucking way, man, but what the fuck are we supposed to do? If we go on a manhunt, everyone will know we faked our deaths and that of our families. Do you want them to be exposed and have them become targets? Because you know those dicks are waiting around the corner like roaches looking for an excuse to crash Pops’ and Luca’s compound.”

Our VP looks down at the walkway, scraping the ground with the toe of his boot, looking as if his entire world has collapsed around him. “I know in my mind that what you’re saying makes sense, but my heart and soul have this insistent need to keep Stella and Jaggar safe,” Kruger asserts. “I can’t fucking get past the concept that those fucking assholes need to go to ground so my family isn’t forced to live beneath the surface like they are. It’s not fair that they’re walking around free and clear while we’re all hidden like a bad secret.”

“It’s not,” I agree. “But the alternative is far worse. We have to trust Pops, Luca, and their guys to get rid of them for us. Keep in mind this is temporary.” When he goes to protest again, I hold my hand up. “Temporary can be a week or a fucking year, Kruger. The bottom line is, we’re all alive, thankfully we all get along, and we’ve got people who have our back to the point they’re hunting the motherfuckers down for us so we can stay that way.”

“For now, the world believes we’re dead, and it has to stay that way until we’re told otherwise,” Gunner bids. “Let’s get through the holidays then we’ll see if we need to disguise ourselves and go fuck some shit up.”

“I’m all for fucking some shit up,” Texas says, raising his hand.

“I wouldn’t mind painting my hands in some Crumley blood,” Master leisurely comments as if taking another's life is just another day on the job. Which in many ways, it is. We don’t make it a ritual to murder just to say we did, but we’ll do whatever it takes to protect what we consider to be ours. If that results in a few lost lives, so be it. At the end of the day, we’re perfectly okay with that decision if it means our women and kids breathe easy.

* * *

When we finally have Kruger calmed down, and we know he’s not fixing to go ballistic and tear the town apart, we continue our trek along the path. You can tell this is a newly developed bunker-type hideaway, everything is clean and polished with no wear and tear.

Yet.

I suspect with our littlest hellions running around it’s definitely going to go through a few changes.

“Master!” Dot’s screams echo as she hauls ass our way.

“Dot!” I roar, paranoid that she’s out of breath and hasn’t stopped running since her eyes landed on us. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?” I grab her by her shoulders and slow her down, scanning her over from top to bottom. She looks fine, no scratches anywhere on her body. “Breathe, baby.”

“I’m fine,” she says, waving me away. “Master, Aspen’s water broke, and her contractions are five minutes apart. We need a doctor. None of us have experience in birthing a baby.”

“Sound the alarm, Gunner. Get Pops to get us a baby doctor down here right the fuck now!” Master barks, running back toward his and Aspen’s complex.

Sarcastically, Gunner chuckles, “Did he just give me an order?”

“If ever there’s a time to excuse his disrespect and dismiss the pecking order, now would be it,” Shamus laughs, clapping Gun’s shoulder.

“Suppose so,” Gunner sighs, but even though his position of authority has been somewhat insulted, he wears a smile on his face. New life is something we all get excited for.

“What did he mean when he said, ‘sound the alarms’?” Malice asks.

“This was the reason I pulled you all off to the side. Thanksgiving day, Pops showed me something and asked me to show you guys in case an emergency popped up. There’s a lever we can pull that sends a silent alarm into the mansion.” Gunner waves for us to follow him and we are all shocked when he pushes a bush to the side and there’s a box with a lever attached to it. “All we have to do is pull this and the cavalry will arrive.”

“Well, what are you waiting for? Yank the damn thing,” I bellow. “I’d say this qualifies as an emergency situation.” My heart is still racing seeing my Dottie running full out toward me as if her ass was on fire, so I’m sure my tone is borderline disrespectful, but I can’t give that first fuck. If Gun decides to fine my ass, I’ll gladly pay it because we definitely need the help right the fuck now.

What none of us are prepared for, is that when the lever is pulled, the entire town shuts down. The streetlamps power off, as do all of the lights in the residences and businesses, which has everything around us plunging us into a pitch black atmosphere.

“Then darkness fell,” Texas snarks, earning him a smack, presumably from Malice. “What? It’s dark as hell right now, asshole.”

“Does anyone have a flashlight handy?” I ask.

“Always, brother,” Malice says, pulling one out of the cargo belt around his jeans.

All of the smokers pull out their lighters and flick them and we use them to light our way home. I suspect the women are going to be pissed to high heaven when they realize it’s our fault we have no electricity.