by K E Osborn
“Is that what that smell is?” Gator asks.
“I was always trying to place what that was,” Gadget adds.
Flame shakes her head. “Never could work it out.”
“Guys, this is serious,” I reprimand them. They all turn to me as Techie types away on his gadgets.
“Zoryn Novikov… you’re not gonna like this, brothers,” Techie announces.
We all look at him as he turns the screen around to show a digital file with his picture attached. At the top reads Foreign Intelligence Service. Formally known as a division of the KGB.
“Fuck,” I murmur under my breath as Techie pulls the tablet around to face him.
“Russian spy. Known for espionage, murder, infiltration, torture, blackmail, heists… the list goes on and on. Let’s just say, his record isn’t the cleanest, and I’m going to go out on a limb and say he wasn’t working for the nice side of the Foreign Intelligence Service,” Techie informs us.
I slump. “So, if he doesn’t want to be found, we won’t be able to—” I stop mid-sentence letting out a sigh, “This is gonna be hard.”
Tension rises around the small group as Irina clings to Flame. It’s getting later in the day and knowing that means Marina has been gone for longer than we would have liked. I just hope we can figure this mess out before something happens to her.
If it hasn’t already.
Suddenly, the clubroom door swings open to loud screaming. All our heads snap to the door to see Nevada, Gator, and Meli’s three-year-old daughter come tearing through the door screaming her lungs out while being chased by Byron and Tyson, my five-year-old twin boys. A ten-year-old Jackson brings up the rear as Meli strolls in behind them all carrying their bags with a bright smile on her face, looking the ever-doting mother. Gator’s eyes light up seeing his Old Lady as she waltzes in after the kids who race into the clubhouse yelling, screaming, swearing like any other day, and like they own the joint.
“Kids! Calm it! We’re havin’ a serious chat over here,” I yell.
“And we have some serious fucking snack time to get into, old man. So, we all have first-world problems, don’t we?” Jackson calls back. His chocolate skin’s framed by his dark, curled hair. He’s grown so much since we first adopted him, but his language and manners haven’t changed one bit. It’s what made me adore the kid in the first place. His finger to the man as it were, now that man happens to be me. Typical.
“First-world problems, Dad!” Byron calls out.
“Serious fucking snacks!” Tyson follows, and I shake my head at how I managed to get another two Jackson’s in my twin boys. I know Harley, my two-year-old daughter, is heading in the same direction. Goddamn, these kids are a handful, but I wouldn’t change them for the world. Sure, they swear, sure they’re hyper, but they’re caring, and they know the meaning of loyalty, family, and brotherhood. That’s what counts to me. Some might say little kids swearing is terrible. I know it’s taboo, but this is a biker club, and honestly, they’re gonna hear that shit all the fucking time. How the hell am I gonna stop it? Better them swearing than drinking and drugging, which they definitely won’t be doing.
Techie closes the file down as Meli strolls over, taking in the look on all our faces. Her blonde, wavy hair down framing her cute little face perfectly. Her hand comes up wiping her hair behind her ear, her giant engagement ring sparkling in the light as she assesses Gator then kisses his cheek. He warms to her touch like he always does when she’s around. Their love is obvious, just like mine and Flame’s, just like Techie and Shay’s. We’re all damn lucky sons of bitches.
“Yes, fuckin’ snacks,” Byron calls out in the distance as Trigger dishes out some crisps at the bar for the twins, Jackson, and Nevada.
I shake my head ignoring the awesome foursome over there and focus on Meli. She raises her brow. “Something’s up?”
Gator exhales pulling her to him. This will be difficult for her. Meli started out as a club girl, she’s good friends with Marina so, this will hit her hard. “I have some bad news… we think someone might have Marina.”
Meli gasps as she spins her head to look at Irina, her eyes wide as she takes it all in. Her eyes well as she grips onto Gator harder.
“Can I have some fuckin’ cordial, Trigger… please?” Tyson calls out loudly making us all grimace.
“Boys, stop being so loud, we’re having an important chat here. Just calm it down, or you can go to your room. All of you!” Flame calls out staring at Jackson harshly. She does that to make sure he keeps the others in line. Jackson whispers to the boys, and they slump their bodies focusing on Trigger, who’s handing them more snacks while Gator turns back to us all.
“Okay, I think we should continue this in the assembly room. We can sit down and discuss our options?” Gator suggests.
I nod. “Want to make it church or just us?”
“Just us for now till we figure something out.”
We walk over to the giant double black doors and make our way inside. The red walls are accentuating my anxiety today as I take a seat at the unique wooden table. The club logo is in the centre of the wall hanging behind Gator’s back. I recline in my comfortable black leather chair, Flame stands behind me, her hand slides down my chest, the other rests on my shoulder. I always feel so powerful in here with Flame standing behind me. Behind every powerful man is an even stronger woman standing with him. Flame’s that for me.
Gator sits in his presidential seat, Meli behind him, in almost the exact same position as Flame.
The women of this club are tough, strong, loyal to a fault.
The door closes behind Gadget as he slides into his chair.
“So, Techie, Gadget… give me info on what the hell we can do?” Gator asks.
Techie gnaws on the bottom of his lip like he’s thinking when Gadget opens his eyes wide sitting forward. “What if we hack into Marina’s mobile. Even if it’s off, we can still see her texts. We might have put a program on the phones that is capable… club girls, prospects, people like that…” he trails off quickly.
“Old ladies?” Flame asks.
“Do you really want to know?” Techie asks.
Meli chuckles. “Do you read Shay’s shit?”
Techie flinches while shaking his head. “Fuck no. She’d chop off my balls. Fuck! It’s there for safety, only. In case of shit like this.”
Gator nods. “Do it.”
Gadget taps away on his, for the lack of a better word, gadget, with Techie over his shoulder. Gadget shifts like he’s trying to shuffle out of the way, but Techie keeps loitering. “Will you stop hovering?”
“Two eyes are better than one, Gadget.”
“Or in your case, four eyes,” I mock.
They both look up at me with a sneer. “Your math is flawed, Steel. It will be six eyes if you’re referring to both Gadget’s eyes, mine, plus, my glasses. What the hell did they teach you in school?” He shakes his head as I smirk at his attempt of an insult.
But he and Gadget simply go back to work while I glance at Gator and shake my head. He chuckles under his breath, all the while Irina stands by the door looking uncomfortable and impatient. I’m not sure if she’s ever been in the assembly room before, this might be strange for her. This place is where we have our church meetings and is usually only allowed for brothers and some old ladies. Club girls don’t tend to come in here. I’m sure she’d be feeling a little off.
“I’m in,” Gadget announces as he slides up and down like he’s reading something important.
“Anything?” Gator asks.
His head bobs up, and his chubby face nods. “I think Novikov has her.”
Irina breaks out into a fit of tears. “He’ll torture her for leaving him. We have to find her, pres. Please, please, Gator. Please.”
Gator looks to Gadget who clenches his jaw. “There’s a message here, pres. I think it might be a lead.”
Gator nods as I sit up a little taller. “Go on,” Gator urges.
“The text is from a
n unknown number, and it says something about knowing of her family ties in Russia, and if she doesn’t come to this address, they will come after Irina.”
Irina gasps as she buries her head in her hands crying. Flame leaves me, walks over to her along with Meli, and they both take her one either side, comforting her for the actions of her twin. “I can’t believe Marina didn’t tell me. Stupid. Stupid.”
Meli wraps herself around Irina and holds her tightly as Gator huffs. “Irina, I know you probably don’t want to talk about this, but what did your family do to Novikov?”
She sniffles, her black hair falling from her face as she looks up at us from Meli’s shoulder. “Our father was a politician, he was working closely with the Foreign Intelligence Service, with Novikov and his off-siders. When he found out Novikov was crooked, he tried to bring him and his team down…” She pauses. “It didn’t work. Novikov was onto father and weaselled his way into Marina’s life. She had no idea who he was… he was using her to bring our father to his knees. Problem is, father caught on and sent us to Australia. By the time we landed, we received news of our parents’ suspicious passing back in the motherland. We knew it was Novikov, it had to be.”
I look back to Gadget, a determination in my voice. “Where’s the address, Gadget?”
He types in a few things then nods. “About twenty minutes or so from here. Seems like it’s a corner store from what I can tell. But we all know looks can be deceiving.”
We all look at Gator wondering where he will go with this. What his plan of attack will be.
He stands, his nostrils flaring. “Techie, gather Lookout and Jigsaw, we’re going for a ride!”
Flame leans in kissing my lips tenderly as I stand next to my Hog. I could kiss her all day, all fucking night, but I have a job to do and standing around getting a hard-on for my Old Lady isn’t going to get Marina back. So, I kiss Flame one last time, wink at her, pull my lid over my head, and yank my Hog upright ready to go.
“Be safe,” she murmurs.
“I have a family to come home to. I’m always safe.”
She smiles tightening her hand on mine on my handgrip, then takes a step back letting me turn the engine over. I notice Meli giving the same goodbye to Gator, and I know if Shay were here and not at work, she’d be doing the same for Techie.
Gator and Lookout pull out, followed by Gadget, the roar of their engines vibrates through the air, and I smile loving the sheer raw sound. My passion for riding has never waned, but riding in formation is something else entirely. It’s fucking exhilarating. I hammer down and take off with Techie at my side and Jigsaw at the back door. The wind licks at my face. Having a family, the love of a good woman, nothing compares. But the open road and the wind crashing against your skin, the adrenaline of the power between your legs, that’s a rush, and though it doesn’t beat it, it’s damn near fucking close. I can say for sure, though, I couldn’t live without this feeling in my life. Riding a Hog, it’s a part of me, and even though we have no idea what shit we’re heading into, what storm we’re about to create, the energy, the endorphins, the rush of it all, still gets me. Every. Damn. Time.
The ride to the location takes twenty minutes like Gadget said. We pull up along the side of the road and duck walk our Hogs against the curb on the opposite side from the corner store. From all appearances, this seems like any other suburban corner store.
Sliding off my Hog, I walk over to the other guys, and we all congregate in a huddle looking over to it.
“What do you think the go is?” Gator asks.
“Bricks and mortar hide all illusions,” Jigsaw mutters in his usual Swedish accent. His riddles never seem to get any easier to decipher, or for that matter, come at opportune times.
We all glance at him, and he shrugs with a giant grin on his face.
I turn to Techie and Gadget. “Any ideas, boys?”
“I guess the first point of call is to take a look around?” Techie suggests.
Looking to Gator for his lead, he nods, and we all step onto the road crossing it toward the store. As we open the door a little bell dings, alerting everyone inside of our presence. I grimace as a couple at a small table who are eating some pastries look up, take in our cuts, and quickly look away continuing on with their meal.
We all stroll in seeing the aisles of grocery style food. It’s more of a very small mini-mart with the tiniest café attached. The attendant on duty watches us closely as we notice customers slowly making their way out of the store without trying to make a scene, but we see them. Even if they think we don’t.
Suddenly, a man jumps up from the last aisle and starts bolting. I stand taller watching him over the aisles as he scurries over boxes and heads out the back.
“We got a runner,” I call out. Adrenaline spikes through me as I make a mad dash along with my five other brothers who are with me. We all rush down the aisles of the store, knocking over displays of crisp packets and unpacked boxes as they go flying through the store.
“Hey!” the store clerk calls out as we race through the back of the store into the back room.
Jesus! It stinks in here like old dank mould as we race through the darkened room. The runner throws empty cardboard boxes at me, one smacking me right in the face, but I swipe it out of my way as I continue to chase after him. I hear the screech of a fly screen door as it hurtles open smacking against the brick of the wall as we soar through and out the back door following him. My feet are heavy as they pound the concrete. I don’t know who this guy is, but he’s running for a reason. My breaths come in short, sharp, and heavy as I rush after him at full speed down the middle of a suburban street. One man—five bikers. He turns down a lane and then suddenly slides through an open drain.
Shock runs through me as I skid to a halt at the opening of the drain, and my brothers catch up to me as I pant for breath.
“Did he just go down the drain?” Techie asks.
I nod. Techie groans shaking his head. “You do know that not only is there human waste in drains, but humans flush condoms, tampons, wet wipes, cotton buds, syringes, paint, building waste not to mention the pets… the dead pets. You want me to go down there with all that shit?”
Gator groans rolling his neck on his shoulders. “Fuck, we don’t have a choice! He’s the only lead we have right now.”
“A sewer rat?” Techie asks.
“You can stay up here and be the lookout,” Gator says.
Techie scoffs. “Me, the lookout, fuck that,” he grunts out then slides down the sewer feet first without hesitation.
I chuckle, shrug, and then jump myself, sliding down the drain. I’m surprised as it actually has a slide attached to it. I slip and glide to the bottom, and as I stumble to my feet, my eyes focus in the dim lighting to see Techie looking around the underground cavern. It’s definitely under the street, but it isn’t a sewer filled with rats and people’s shit. It’s almost like it’s been put here—built, manmade—for some purpose. The concrete walls are dripping with water, but there’s hardly any puddles on the floor. A slight tinge of green lines the walls, and a yellow hue illuminates the air from the faint lighting in the dank place. It’s eerie, ominous, menacing, exactly like something you’d see in a SAW movie.
Techie looks at me, and I raise my brow as I hear another person sliding in—Lookout. He stands up taking in the sight we’re seeing, and he lets out a small whistle. “Shiiit, motherfuckers, this is some Indiana Jones fucked-up shit right here.”
I half laugh as Jigsaw slides in and looks around with a nod. “The palace of spawn sparks the mark of evil,” he murmurs in his usual way, and I roll my eyes not understanding his riddle as Gator slips in closely followed by Gadget.
We all look around checking the expanse as Gator steps up to me shaking his head. “This can’t be good.”
Tension riddles my skin, an eerie sensation washes over me. It’s cold down here, damp, the lighting is dim at best, and we have no idea how to get the fuck out.
T
his was a bad idea.
A very bad idea.
Suddenly, five men appear from behind various concrete poles all aiming their guns at us. My stomach turns as the barrel of a gun is aimed right at my head. The man gestures for me to raise my hands. My first instinct is to go for my Glock, but Gator raises his hands, so I follow suit watching the guy with his gun on me wink like a cocky little shit.
Fuck!
“Who are you?” the man pointing his gun in my face asks with a strong Russian accent, letting us know we’re definitely in the right place.
I go to spit out some witty retort, but Gator opens his mouth before I can.
“We’re looking for someone, a woman, our property. You might know her? Marina?” he snaps as the Russians all laugh like that’s the funniest thing they’ve heard all day.
Lookout places his hands on his hips in his usual questionable way. “Nothing fucking funny about that, you motherfuckers,” he spits at them.
They all stop laughing as the Russian in front of Lookout grunts bringing his pistol up and slamming it forward into Lookout’s forehead using brute force. I tense up as Lookout steps back, stumbling slightly, as he reaches up grabbing at his head. We all shift wanting to go to him, but the guns in our faces are making that difficult as he steadies himself.
“What the fucking-fuck, you goddamned motherfucking bitch. You hit me with your gun you damned—” He stops, looks down and then continues, “What the hell! Am I bleeding?”
My eyes open wide as we all face him, my muscles tensing even further as Jigsaw reaches out grabbing Lookout’s shoulder knowing exactly what this means.
“I hit you with a gun. I thought it would knock you out, not make you whine like a bitch,” the Russian jabs.
Lookout stumbles on the spot as he stares at the blood on his hands.
I shake my head. “Jigsaw,” I murmur, and he nods.
The Russians all raise their guns a little higher like they’re confused by the way we’re reacting to this. But we’re not reacting to the guns in our faces, we’ve had much worse than this shit we’re currently in. It’s the fact that Lookout has been stumbling around with blood on his hands.
