Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

I know. I'm gonna handle it.
-Please, Clay. I can't. -You got no choice.
...I gotta cross everyone else off the list before I go there.
Ray, there's nowhere left to go.
- Yeah. - Pope, and he wants to meet.
The feds want the Irish and the cartel.
These attacks aren't coming out of my camp.
I love them so much, baby.
Let's go.
-Why the hell would I do that? -Because you're a greasy scumbag animal.
What do you want?
To Charming?
The dirty secrets will start to flow just like they always did.
-We gotta take care of this guy. -Oh, Christ.
Do you remember anything from last night?
Well, maybe we should let her make that call.
...you take this bullshit intel to the sheriff and I catch up on some paperwork.
-Well, if the other Nomads went after Unser.... -We'll find out.
What did you do?
I know you will find him before I will.
Gave Charlie his custom chopper. Worth, like, 75K.
-Let's go. -All right.
Yeah.
Understood. Betrayal's an awful thing.
-Why'd you go after my mom and kids? -We didn't.
Clay was the one that put the Nomads in motion.
Come on, man. It's a club problem.
Drop the clips. Slide them across the floor.
I hit a goddamn tree.
The hand belonged to Charles Turner.
She don't want me.
But how do I know the orders aren't coming from you?