“I do, yes. That’ll work.” She grabbed his coat again. “Hey, Duncan?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you. For everything.”
He kissed her again.
~oOo~
“Look,” Dex said, giving Jay the dead-eye stare that had scared the fuck out of them when they were kids. This time, though, Jay stared right back.
Dex leaned in a little more, speaking with more urgency than Duncan could remember. He focused on each of the Young Guns in turn: Jay, Duncan, Monty, Chris, and Sam. “I’m not saying you’re less of a patch than anybody at this table. I’m not saying I don’t think you can handle yourself in trouble. You’ve all shown you can. I’m not saying you’re less important than anybody else. If I’m saying anything about that, I’m saying you’re more important. This is the biggest shit we’ve dealt with since Santaveria. I don’t like what we’re planning, I don’t like the blind spots. If this goes wrong and we’ve got the whole club in the thick of it, that’s the whole goddamn club we’re putting on the line.” He cast a searching glance around the whole table. “Are you telling me I’m the only one at this table who things we should guard against that?”
“You’re not the only one,” Duncan’s father said. Duncan tried not to react like he’d been hit, but he sharpened his focus on his old man—and his old man looked straight at him. “It worries me, too. And I got my son on the line here. Simon, too.”
“Dad—” Duncan began, but stopped when his father’s hand came up and cut him short.
“I know.” He sighed and turned to Dex. “You know how I feel, Dex. But the truth is we need every man in Eureka if we got any chance of having this not turn to shit. If we roll into town in force, maybe the Nameless deal with their own and we come in and pick up the pieces. Or maybe they just fold. But if they think they can put up a real fight, we’ll have trouble for sure.” Returning his attention to Duncan and the other young patches, he continued, “That said, it could still go wrong, and it’s not a bad idea to have an insurance policy. Any of you say you want to stay back, you stay back. No judgment, no shame.”
“Hold up, Mav,” Eight Ball cut in from his seat at the head of the table. “You’re talkin’ out of turn. Like you just said, we need everybody in Eureka to get this done. We decided on a full club run, we need a full club run, we’re doin’ a full club run. Only reason we’re talking about this at all is Dex won’t fuckin’ shut up about it.”
An argument erupted among the club officers. Duncan and the other Young Guns sat back and watched, occasionally sharing uncomfortable looks. They often joked that they were taking up enough of the table to start causing trouble. Looked like Dex had caused some on their behalf before they’d had the chance to do it for themselves.
“Does anybody want to stay back?” Jay asked under his breath.
Duncan, Sam, and Monty shook their heads at once. There was literally nothing that would keep Duncan from this run but an outright order, and then he’d be pissed. He meant to be side by side with his father when the shit hit the fan. And he knew Sam felt the same way. Jay’s father and brother wouldn’t have thought of staying back, and his brother would surely be in the thick of it, so Jay would be beside him. And Monty was fucking stubborn and usually looking for any fight he could get.
Chris, however, hesitated. He was the mildest-tempered of them all, but he was no coward. When the other four all focused on him—the older patches were still arguing, and now Eight was yelling—Chris said, “I’m not scared of the run, I just think Dex is right. Maybe somebody should stay back.”
“What the fuck difference does it make if one patch stays back?” Jay snapped. “If everybody else goes down in California, the club’s dead anyway. One patch doesn’t make a club. And if we all stay back, the job’s fucked. I don’t know what Dex thinks he’s doin’. I get he was an elite Marine back in the day, but being a dad’s made him soft.” Jay turned and pinned Duncan with a look. “Or your sister has.”
He and Jay had been close most of their lives, so Duncan had long years of experience managing his friend’s tendency to toss around toxic bullshit like that. “Don’t bring my sister into this. That ain’t it, asshole.” When Jay backed off a little and made a semi-conciliatory gesture, Duncan added, “But you’re not wrong that they’re having a stupid argument. You should say it to them, though, not us.”
At once, Jay faced the head of the table. He slammed his hands down on the scratched oak and said, “Hey! Can I get a word in here, or you old farts gonna bicker all day?”
The top half of the table went quiet. An array of very tough old guys gaped at Jay.
Apollo chuckled and did a game-show wave. “By all means, brother. Have your say.”
Duncan knew Jay well enough to see the tension in his jaw and the stiffness in his shoulders and understand that he was nervous. But when he spoke, his voice was steady. “While you all were having your slap fight up there, we talked, and we think this is stupid. No offense, Dex, but you’re wrong. Leaving one or two patches back—whoever it is—doesn’t save the club. We’d need to leave more than that back, enough to keep everything going, and we can’t afford to lose that much manpower for this job. Right?” When they kept staring and said nothing, Jay went on. “Right. We keep the club whole by kicking the Nameless’s whole ass. So we’re all on the run. Debate over.”
Duncan’s dad turned to Sam’s dad. Dex turned to Eight. Jazz and Apollo shared a look. Fitz and Caleb grinned at each other. Then they all broke into laughter.
“Well goddamn, JJ,” Eight said, still grinning. “You down there anglin’ for my job?”
Jay’s cheeks colored, but he didn’t act embarrassed. Instead he grinned and said, “Watch your back, old man,” and the whole table laughed.
Jay had been laughed at a few times at this table, and he always took it badly. But this was different. Duncan watched his friend to see if he understood that this humor was full of pleasure and pride. He’d impressed them—and he’d calmed burgeoning friction at a time when the rapport around the table needed to be tight. They were laughing with him, for him, not at him.
After an uncertain moment, during which he studied the table warily, Jay got it. His grin spread across his face and he sat back, looking like the Cheshire Cat.
Duncan swung a leg out and kicked his friend’s boot, letting him know he was impressed, too.
~oOo~
They finished out the meeting with yet another recap of the plan for the run, and the various scenarios they were prepared for once they got to their destination. They were riding two thousand miles west in January, but the trip would take them straight through the southwest, until they hung a right and headed north along the California coast. The weather forecast looked clear most of the way, and the cold wouldn’t be too awful.
After the meeting, Duncan had to clock in. As he headed to the lockers to grab his spare uniform, he felt his father’s hand on his shoulder. “Just a sec, son.”
Duncan tamped down a sigh as he turned around. He really hoped his old man wasn’t going to try to make a case for him to stay back now, after all that mess in the chapel. The matter was decided.