Outlaw: Screaming Eagles MC

by Kara Parker

  “I want you to take that gun you have in your hand, turn it to your face and fire.”

  “What?” Falcon demanded.

  “Kill yourself, Falcon. Right in front of me. Put that gun against your temple and pull the trigger. You end your life and she can keep hers. That seems like a fair trade to me.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Grace said.

  “Do it, or I kill her.”

  “How am I supposed to trust that you won’t shoot her after?” Falcon demanded.

  “Falcon, don’t even think about it. It’s ridiculous,” Grace said.

  “I give you my word,” Ernie said. “And you can trust me, Falcon. I’m not the traitor. You are.”

  He needed to do something, but what? He needed to get Grace out of this alive and unharmed, but how? Suddenly Falcon wished he were smarter. He wished he was the kind of guy who could twist words around to convince people to do something or be the kind of guy who could come up with some out of left field solution.

  But Grace was that guy, or girl. Her plan with the pigeons had been genius and Falcon could never have thought of anything like that. He wasn’t the smart guy or the clever guy. So who was he? He was the guy who won the weekly fights, but he couldn’t punch Ernie. He could shoot him, though. His mind sped through the various permutations of his idea in seconds. It might work, it might not. He needed to shoot Ernie, but not kill him. He needed to shoot Ernie, without Ernie shooting Grace. He needed to do a lot of things all at once and he needed to do it now. He stared at Ernie and watched him.

  “What are you waiting for, you coward? You really want her to die for you?”

  It happened in a split second, Ernie gestured only slightly with his gun, but it was enough. He moved the gun off of Grace’s head for one second and in that one second Falcon shot, hitting Ernie right in the center of his right foot.

  The man screamed and toppled over and Grace sprang up, grabbing his gun and pointing at him as he writhed on the ground, holding his foot in his hand.

  “Are you all right?” Falcon asked Grace as he ran up to her.

  “I’m fine,” she said, holding her gun on Ernie. “Cuff him,” she said. Falcon grabbed her handcuffs from her back pocket and wrenched the boss’ arms behind his back and cuffed him.

  “Let me go! Fight me like a man! I will not be taken alive. Falcon, you coward! I’ll get you! You can never run from me. I am everywhere.”

  “Let’s see you be everywhere from a prison cell with all your men locked up with you,” Falcon said as he hauled the boss to his feet. The other man limped on his shot foot, but he was able to stand and Falcon pulled him out of the ruins and towards the sound of sirens at the clubhouse.

  Grace was behind him, but the trees were blocking everything. They couldn't see anything, but soon, they could hear it. The sound of loud popping noises and screaming overpowered the sirens. It had turned into a firefight at the clubhouse.

  Falcon hurried down the path, dragging Ernie behind him as the other man cursed and insulted him. But Falcon wasn’t listening. The trees in front of him were thick and he knew they would be up until the driveway. Above him he saw the chain that went across the path and he tossed Ernie over it and jumped the chain, picking up his boss and running towards the sounds of gunfire with Grace hot on his heels.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  The parking lot in front of him was filled with police cars and big, black SWAT vans. Falcon took one step into the parking lot and was immediately pushed back into the woods as bullets struck the ground right in front of his feet. He jerked back into the woods pulling the boss with him.

  “We need some cover here!” Grace shouted into the fray. There were two officers taking cover behind a cop car and they nodded at Grace. In a minute they created cover and Grace and Falcon and Ernie ran across the parking lot and hid with the other officers behind the bullet-ridden police car.

  It was chaos in the lot. He could see the bodies of dead Screaming Eagles in front of the clubhouse. Injured cops were being led into waiting ambulances as more arrived to take the injured. A small fire had broken out in the dumpster. It was loud with bullets and screaming and sirens and it showed no signs of abating.

  “Put them in a car and get them out of here!” Grace shouted to her partner. Mike grabbed Ernie by the arm, but Falcon stopped.

  “I’m not going with him,” Falcon said to Grace. “I’m staying here and finishing this.”

  “Falcon, you can’t,” Grace said. “You’re still injured and you’re not a cop. You need to go back to the precinct.”

  “No,” Falcon said. “I’m finishing this.”

  “They’ll be looking for you, Falcon. They’ll be aiming for you. This is way too dangerous. Please just go with Mike.”

  “I know my way around that clubhouse better than anyone,” Falcon said. “I can help you and I’m not done yet.”

  Finally, Grace nodded at him and Mike hauled Ernie off and Falcon watched as Ernie was put into the back of a police cruiser. He couldn’t believe it. It had actually happened, he had arrested Ernie, and now it was time to get the rest of them.

  “Okay,” Falcon said quickly. “There’s another exit out the back, but that’s it. No tunnels or anything like that. Most of them will be clustered in the bar itself, but it’s dangerous to move through the front door. To the left and the right are barracks where men can wait and slaughter anyone who goes through. They’ve created a bottleneck and you have to move past that to get inside. So how do we move in?”

  “We take out the wall,” Grace said. “We take out the front wall and create two points of entry with men standing in the back. The road is closed in either direction. We’ll get them all.” She started barking orders into her radio and Falcon ducked as a sudden barrage of bullets came out at them. Those poor Screaming Eagles, they were fighting for a losing cause. They were going to die in there and they didn’t deserve this.

  “Let me talk to them,” Falcon said grabbing Grace by the arm and spinning her around.

  “What?”

  “Let me talk to them, let me give them the option of surrender. Promise me you’ll be lenient if they surrender.”

  “All right,” Grace said. “But they’ll still face charges.”

  “All right,” Falcon said.

  He took a deep breath as he peered over at the clubhouse. He was ducked behind a police car, but he could see men in the clubhouse moving behind the windows. Grace came back and handed him the bullhorn and Falcon stood and pushed the trigger-like button.

  A loud screech echoed out around the suddenly silent parking lot. Falcon was acutely aware that every eye was on him, everyone was waiting to hear what he would say. “You’re surrounded,” he said into the bullhorn. “There’s no way out. The cops are coming in and they don’t care how many of you are going to die. They’re taking the clubhouse out, but you don’t have to go down with it. This isn’t about you; it’s about Ernie. He was the one who planned everything and he was the one who got rich from your work and sacrifice. You’ve given him enough; don’t give him your lives. If you come out now, you won’t be shot and the police have promised to be lenient to those who surrender. You have your whole lives in front of you; you don’t have to die today.”

  He put the bullhorn down and waited and for a moment, but nothing happened. He felt like a fool, he would be the only one to surrender. But then, the front door pushed open and six, then ten men came out with their hands up. They threw down their guns and were quickly pulled behind the lines.

  It had been a distraction, too. While he had been speaking members of the SWAT team decked out in green cameo had crawled through the undergrowth and planted dynamite at the base of the building. They waited, but no one else came out. They waited more, but there was nothing. The explosives have been set; there was no need to wait now.

  Everyone got into position and Falcon stood next to Grace; his gun was loaded and he had strapped on a bulletproof vest. Together Falcon and Grace moved wit
h the second wave of SWAT team members flowing into the building.

  Inside it was a smoky, hazy mess. There were overturned tables and chairs and broken furniture and a small fire blazed in one corner. Falcon hardly recognized the place. The SWAT team had taken care of the guards by the door, but now there was a contingent behind the bar determined to die in a firefight.

  Falcon and Grace took cover behind a table and then moved to the far wall. They thought they were safe, they thought the last hold-outs were behind the wall, but they had been wrong. The Screaming Eagles had a second wave planned, as well. Members had been waiting upstairs and then they ran down the stairs and poured into the clubhouse. Suddenly there was a wall of very angry bikers between Grace and Falcon and the rest of the police.

  Falcon pulled Grace down behind a table and threw himself on top of her as bullets whizzed past them. Then, as one, they moved. Falcon rolled over and Grace came up ready to shoot and she took out two Screaming Eagles and Falcon got the third.

  A fourth came running over and aimed a kick at Grace who tried to block it, but he was fast and she yelled out as the kick connected with her ribs. Falcon’s clip was empty and he charged at the other man, knocking him over and hitting him in the forehead with his gun. He was out and Falcon turned to see Grace punching at another Screaming Eagle who managed to hit her right in her left eye, but Grace used it as an opportunity to uppercut him and then slam his head into her knee.

  Heaving and out of breath Falcon turned, his fists clenched, looking to see who would be next. But it was over. The SWAT team had taken everyone out and someone was spraying down the fire in the corner. The men and women who had lived were lined up on the ground as they were quickly cuffed and taken out to the paddy wagon.

  “We did it,” he said turning to face her.

  She nodded up at him as she holstered her gun. “Good job,” she said.

  He could see a smear of blood underneath her eye and he knew she would have a terrible bruise there come morning. But she was alive and she would be fine soon enough and that was all that mattered.

  “You, too,” Falcon replied. He pointed to his own eye and said, “Nice shiner.”

  She smiled and shook her head as they looked around the rapidly clearing room. It was over. Finally, and once and for all, it was over. And Falcon wasn’t a victim and he wasn’t going to jail. He had looked out for himself and for the first time he had come out on top.

  It was the best day of his life, but it was the worst, too. This was it. Falcon Marks was done. His last act was taking down his former gang. It wasn’t too bad of a way to go out. He looked over at Grace who was watching prisoners as they were brought into the paddy wagon. Their eyes met over the carnage and she smiled at him and he smiled back. She was sweaty, there was a smear of dirt across her forehead, her arms were crossed, and she looked beautiful. It wasn’t bad that he was spending his last day as Falcon Marks with her.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  As police and firefighters and paramedics raced around him, Falcon was left with nothing to do. He had a moment of realization where he knew he could leave if he wanted to. He could get on Grace’s bike behind the dumpster and go. She would never report it stolen; he could go anywhere he wanted, be anyone he wanted.

  But all he wanted was her. He might not have to leave right at that moment. He could still have a few more moments with her, maybe one last night. He could have one last chance to be with her and savor every moment and every taste. The scene was quickly being cleared and Grace walked over to him before too long.

  “We did well. There are a few still out there, a few bikers who weren’t at the clubhouse when the raid started. But we think they’ll scatter to the wind; there’s not enough out there to offer protection. Hopefully they’ll go their own way, maybe even go straight.”

  “Maybe,” Falcon said. But he knew what she was really saying. He had to leave, it wasn’t safe enough for him to stay in California any longer. “Now what? Do they want you to see a doctor?”

  “Nah,” she said with a smirk. “Just a couple of bumps and bruises, nothing too bad.” The state of her told a different story, her face was swelling with purple bruises and she had a cut below her eye.

  “We should get you home, then,” he said.

  He wasn’t sure how she was going to respond and he held his breath, but she just smiled at him and nodded. There was only the clean up crew left as the last of the squad cars pulled out of the parking lot. There was yellow police tape flapping in the wind and the sun sat low on the horizon as Falcon and Grace left the crime scene behind them.

  Grace’s bike was singed from the flames of the dumpster fire, but was otherwise unharmed. Falcon got on first and Grace sat down behind him. He gave one last look at the clubhouse, at the place he had considered a home so many times. It was nothing more than an empty shell now. The people who have lived there were gone, never to come back. Someday it would be just another ruin like the dilapidated house behind it.

  She winced as she sat down behind him, but then she wrapped her arms around him and he drove them home. He drove slowly, going easy over potholes and bumps. He pulled up to her house and he helped her inside. He walked her to her bathroom and sat her down on the edge of the tub.

  Now it was Falcon who took a wet washcloth over the cuts on her face. He bandaged up her swollen eye and he checked her ribs to make sure they weren’t broken. She was shaking a little bit. Falcon took her hands in his and kissed the palm of her right and then her left hand. He leaned forward and kissed her forehead and she smiled at him and sniffed a little bit.

  “I’m all right,” she said with a smile. “Just a little shook up.”

  “It was a pretty rough morning. But you should be excited,” Falcon said. “You just destroyed a very big, very prominent gang. You got drugs of the street and criminals in jail. They’re gonna have a parade in your honor.”

  She laughed and Falcon let go of her hand and began to gently wrap gauze around her torn and bleeding knuckles. “I don’t think they’ll go that far,” she said.

  “You still don’t look very happy,” he said. “Did you not get enough evidence or something.”

  “No, we got a ton of evidence. They’re still bagging and tagging it. The DA is thrilled; he said the boss is looking at life in prison, death penalty if he decides to fight it and go to trial.”

  “So what is the problem?”

  “I guess we’re done,” she said. “This is really it. The Screaming Eagles are destroyed and there’s nothing left for us to do. It’s over and I guess...I don’t know. I don’t feel happy; I feel kind of let down.”

  “Why?”

  “Because this investigation was the thing that brought us together. It’s the only reason I met you and it’s the only reason we started hooking up, and now it’s over and soon you’ll have to leave.”

  “How soon?” His stomach dropped as he asked, he both did and didn’t want to know.

  “Very soon,” she said quietly. “Honestly, I shouldn’t have kept you this long. We could have moved you a week ago, but I put it off. I said you weren’t well enough yet. I told them we weren’t done yet. But I can’t keep putting it off any longer.”

  Falcon nodded and looked away from her, not knowing what to say.

  “I’m gonna take a shower,” Grace said.

  Falcon nodded and left the room, walking into the kitchen alone to pour himself a large glass of whiskey.

  “Drink?” he asked Grace when she was done with her shower.

  She was wearing sweatpants and a white tank top and he wet hair was pulled back into a messy bun. “Yes, please,” she answered.

  He held her hand when she walked into the kitchen. It wasn’t far, barely more than ten seconds, but it felt good to hold her hand. It was dusk and outside the sky was a bruised blue and black color.

  Falcon and Grace stood at the counter of her kitchen and he reached to the cabinet above her refrigerator and pulled down a bottle of whiskey. He cou
ldn’t help but smile; why was it always the cabinet of the fridge where the booze was kept. Falcon had kept his in the same place.

  He poured them each a glass and moved out to Grace’s back patio. There were Adirondack chairs on a stone deck that was set into the earth. It faced a thin forest and they could see the last remaining rays of the sun as they poured up from the western skyline.

  Falcon moved his chair next to Grace’s as she winced and lowered herself down. She had two pills in her pocket and she swallowed them both with the whiskey. “I never listen when doctors tell you not to mix your medication with booze,” she said with a shake of her head and crooked smile.

  “Doctors,” Falcon joked. “What do they know?”

  They fell into a comfortable silence as the stars, one-by-one, blinked to life above them.