But Cordero, he's the one who ordered the hit on Arthur. He's the one who put a price on your head. And he's still out there.
Caleb's stomach dropped. So, this isn't over? Not even close. Reeves stood. But we got his men.
We got his vehicles. We got enough evidence from the SUVs to connect him to three different homicides and two kidnappings. We're closing in. Just need time. How much time?
Days, maybe a week. She squeezed his shoulder. Stay here. Stay safe. We'll get him.
After Reeves left, Clutch called another church meeting. This time the mood was different, victorious but wary. They'd won the battle, but everyone knew the war wasn't finished. Miguel Cordero's still breathing, Clutch said without a preamble. That means the threat's still real.
I'm implementing full lockdown protocols. Nobody in or out without clearance. Guards doubled on all shifts. And Caleb, he looked directly at him, you don't leave the compound for any reason. Not until Cordero's either arrested or dead.
How long could that take? Caleb asked. However long it takes. Clutch's tone left no room for argument. You got a problem with that?
Caleb thought about his truck, his life, his freedom. Then he thought about Miguel Cordero and those dead eyes in the photo. No problem. Good. Meeting adjourned.
The days that followed blurred together. Caleb fell into a routine, wake up, breakfast with the club, shooting practice with Wrath, lunch, more training, dinner, then fitful sleep interrupted by nightmares of black SUVs and men with guns. On the third day, Tiny taught him basic motorcycle maintenance. Might as well learn something useful while you're here. I know cars, Caleb protested, but he followed Tiny to the garage anyway.
The Harleys were beautiful machines, chrome and steel and power. Tiny walked him through the basics, oil changes, brake maintenance, tire pressure. It was almost meditative working with his hands on something that wasn't trying to kill him. You got talent, Tiny observed watching Caleb adjust a carburetor. Natural feel for it.
My dad was a mechanic, taught me young. He still around? Died 3 years ago, aneurysm. Just dropped one day at work. Caleb's hands stilled on the wrench.
Mom died 6 months later. Cancer. So, it's just been me and Uncle Vernon since then. That's rough, kid. I'm sorry.
Yeah, me too. Caleb went back to work not wanting to dwell on it.
On the fifth day, Arthur showed up. He was still pale, still moving carefully, but alive and grinning. The compound erupted in celebration, backslapping, bear hugs, enough to wake the dead. Arthur found Caleb in the garage. Hey, kid.