“We’ll put a man on them all night until we’ve handled the problem,” Colt assured him.
Jack nodded once. “Fair enough.”
“The DEMC has to go,” Colt growled. The paving crew had just left and the entire club, with the exception of Luke and his men, was grouped together to decide what to do about the Death Eaters Motorcycle Club.
Though the DVMC had learned that Dom had formed another club with his followers at the edge of their territory, Colt had decided to let it slide. He had bigger things to worry about right now than Dom and his upstart club. So long as the DEMC left them alone, he was content to leave the DEMC alone. Until today.
“I agree,” Fletch said. “We gave them their chance, and even though they were stroking us by forming a charter in Tonopah, we left them alone. I think it’s clear now that we can’t have them so close to our territory. It’s going to be nothing but trouble.”
“I agree,” Nic growled. “We should have greased them when we had the chance.”
“Nic’s right,” Harrison added. “We gave them a chance and they fucked us. Now we have to fuck them. Hard.”
“I want in,” Chains said. “I can ride…and I have a few things to say to Keg, Patch, and Larson.”
“I bet you do,” Colt said. “Are we all in agreement? We all agree that the DEMC has to go, by any means necessary?”
Colt watched as every head in the room nodded. “Let’s vote it then. All in favor of pulling the colors of the DEMC, say aye.”
“Aye!” the voices called as one.
“Any opposed?” Colt asked.
There wasn’t a sound. Colt slapped his hand down on the desk as a gavel. “Motion carried. Nic, lets figure out how to get this done.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Sierra appeared three days later, dressed in her colors, as Colt and five other members of the DVMC made ready to leave. It was a bit before ten at night, and after a two-hour ride to Tonopah, the DEMC would be no more.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Colt asked as he adjusted the fit of his holster.
“With you.”
“Like hell.”
She stared at him. “Like hell I’m not!”
“Sierra, you know as well as I do how this is going to go down. I don’t want you anywhere near it.”
“I’m going. I’m not going to sit here and worry for four or five hours that you’ve been shot or killed.”
“I’m not going to be shot.”
“I know, because I’m going to be there watching your back.”
He stared at her a moment. “You think I can’t do this alone?”
“You’re not alone. You’ve got Nic, Harrison, Fletch, Gunner and Chains with you. Who do you have to watch your backs?”
“We’ll watch our own backs.”
“And I’ll watch all of yours. I’ll stay back until you make it safe, but I’m going. I’ll be your lookout or something.”
He grunted and smiled. “None of the other old ladies are coming.”
“Fine, let them come, too. We’ll have a knitting party while we wait.”
He saw the determination in her eyes. “Nic! Get Sierra a weapon.”
“Why?” Nic asked as he continued to load his extra magazines.
“She’s going,” Colt replied.
“What? Why?” Nic yelped.
“She’s going to be our eyes and ears outside when we storm their clubhouse.”
Nic looked at him dubiously, then pulled one of his two weapons and handed it to her, along with an extra magazine. He had plenty more he could take and would go back to his trailer and get one before they left. “This is a 1911, a forty-five, so it will have some kick. Carry it hot, with the hammer back. Thumb the safety off, squeeze the trigger,” he said as he demonstrated the safety. “If you hit them anywhere, this will put them down, so don’t shoot one of us.” Sierra gave him a derisive look. “I’m just saying,” Nic continued with a grin.
“Let’s mount up,” Colt said then grinned at Sierra. “I can’t decide if I’m letting you set a good example or a bad one.”
“Oh, it’s all good,” she purred as she swaggered out ahead of the men.
“Stay here,” Colt whispered to Sierra as they crept up to the shabby house trailer that the DEMC called a clubhouse, and crouched behind the four motorcycles. “If you see anyone sneaking around behind us you sing out, okay?” he said as the men began to screw suppressors on the business end of their guns.
She frowned. She wanted one of those bitching looking things on her gun too. “Won’t they hear?” she whispered in return.
“If they’re sneaking up behind us, they already know we’re here. But, no matter what, you stay back until someone comes and gets you. I don’t want one of us to shoot you by mistake.”
“But it’s okay for one of the DEMC to shoot me?” she teased.
“You know what I mean. If one of them comes at you, don’t hesitate. You send them to take a dirt nap with baby Jesus.”
She spluttered out a soft laugh before Colt placed a hand behind her head and pulled her to him for a quick kiss. “Let’s move,” he hissed as the six men rose and moved slowly forward.
She stayed low, still crouching out of sight behind the bikes arrayed on the hard packed gravel that formed the parking lot, and watched as the men crept up the decaying clubhouse. The Death Eaters Motorcycle Club clubhouse was a doublewide sitting on a weed-choked lot a couple of miles outside of Tonopah. It hadn’t taken the DVMC long to find out where the Death Eaters called home. When they reconnoitered the area, it had taken only a little digging before they found someone willing tell them where their clubhouse was located, Colt greasing the way by taking care of an outstanding bar tab.
There were a few houses dotted around, but none close enough to see them in the dark, and they had parked their bikes in the Rebel Oil Company parking lot and then hiked the last mile to keep their approach silent. She looked over her shoulder as a car passed on the street, and then all was quiet again. She settled in to her over-watch, weapon out and ready, determined to keep the men safe.
Nic pointed to Harrison and Chains, motioning them around to the back. Chains was limping after the long walk took its toll on his banged up knee, but since they would be storming the clubhouse from the front, Harrison and Chains only had to keep the DEMC members from escaping out the back.
Colt allowed Nic to run the show. There was a reason he was their Sergeant at Arms. A Marine Rifleman, he’d pulled a tour in Iraq where part of his job was clearing houses. He was a total badass when it came to weapons and tactics, so when Colt wanted the hurt put on someone, Nic was his go to guy.
Colt went to one side of the front door, Fletch to the other. When the men had their backs to the wall, their weapons at high ready, Nic crept up on the creaky wooden platform that formed the steps, held up three fingers and then counted down. When he gripped his fist, he drew back and kicked the shit out of the door. It didn’t completely open on the first kick, but the second kick nearly removed it from the hinges, Nic rushing through the door with Colt and Fletch right behind him.
“Get down! Get down,” Nic screamed as his weapon quickly traversed the room. There wasn’t going to be much resistance tonight.
“Jesus Christ,” Fletch muttered softly just before Harrison and Chains stormed into the room from the back hallway.
Before them the entire DEMC lay naked and tangled, the smell of marijuana thick in the air. They had been caught with their pants down, literally. A quick count confirmed that eight men and women, all that remained out of the eighteen that had left the DVMC with Dom, were engaged in a free for all orgy. Liquor bottles covered every flat surface, many of them empty, and Nickel was doing lines of coke.
“What the fuck?” Dom roared, pull his cock from Ashley’s ass as Steve did the same from her mouth. “You can’t come in here! Get the fuck out!”
“Shut the hell up,” Harrison muttered. “You’re in no position to be giving or
ders.”
The members were so stoned on drugs and alcohol that it took them a moment to realize what was going down. As they sorted themselves out, pulling mismatched articles of clothing around themselves, Colt stood in disgust. This is where the DVMC had been headed. Without the steadying influence of the members that had stayed behind, the DEMC had imploded.
“What do you want?” Dom demanded as he pulled his pants on.
“You’re done. You and your little club are finished,” Colt growled.
“We’re not in your territory!” Monica cried in outrage, stepping away from the man who had been fucking her. “You can’t order us around like this!”
“We were content to let you kill yourselves, but you had to come back and shit in our yard. We warned you what would happen,” Fletcher sneered.
Dom drew himself up. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”
“Bullshit!” Colt spat. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. You’ve messed with bull, so now you’re going to get the horns. Leave your colors and pack your shit. You’re leaving town, tonight. If one of us sees you within five hundred miles of Nevada, we’ll kill you on the spot.”
“You can’t do that!” Patch cried.
Chains backhanded the man savagely across the face with his weapon. He knelt on the downed man and pressed the muzzle hard into his forehead. “Then I guess you would rather die tonight!”
Colt let Chains make the point for him. “That’s your only two options. Die here, tonight, or leave tonight and never come back. Your choice.” His smile never touched his eyes. “I don’t care which option you choose, but you have one minute to decide.”
“We can take them!” Dom cried. “There’s only six of them! They can’t shoot us all!”
Nic pointed his weapon directly at Dom’s head, the bore of the forty-five looking like a cannon. “Probably right. Decide among yourselves who is going to die.”
“I’ll go!” Tawny’s voice called from the floor. Several more voices followed, both men and women, agreeing to leave.
“What about you, Patch? Please say you’ll stay. We have so much to talk about,” Chains growled, his gun still tight to the man’s head.
“No, I’ll go,” Patch murmured. For a moment Patch thought Chains was going to kill him anyway, but Chains finally stood.
“Pussy,” Chains sneered then spat on Patch for good measure.
“Go get Sierra. We’re going to need the eyes,” Colt muttered to Fletch.
“You!” Monica snarled when Sierra appeared. She started toward the woman, but stopped when Sierra’s weapon popped up and pointing at her without a waver.
“Not smart,” Sierra said softly.
“Those of you going, you have ten minutes. After that…” Colt let the threat hang.
“We’re not going anywhere!” Monica snarled. “You know you still want me,” she purred, moving toward Colt as she dragged her hands over her naked body, caressing her breast seductively. “Don’t you want me? I will let you fuck me any way you want, just like old times.”
Sierra watched but said nothing. She wanted to shoot Monica on the spot, but she trusted Colt, and if he took the bait, she wanted to know that, too, now, before it was too late.
Monica slinked to him, sex radiating off her in waves. “Come on, lover. You were the best I ever had. I can make you feel so good,” she purred as she stretched to kiss his lips.
Sierra was preparing to move the two steps and pull Monica off Colt by her mop of red hair, shove the gun in her mouth, and pull the trigger, when Colt’s hand flashed up between them. He wrapped his fingers roughly around her face and shoved her backwards so hard she stumbled and fell to her ass. “I’m afraid my cock would rot off.”
“You fuck!” she screamed as she jumped to her feet.
Before she could charge him, Dom grabbed her and held her back. “Stop!” he roared, giving her a shake. When she calmed down, he turned to face Colt. “I’ll never back down from you, you little shit. You’ll have to kill me.”
“He won’t shoot us. He doesn’t have the guts,” Monica sneered.
Colt’s weapon coughed twice, no louder than a two loud handclaps, the back of Dom and Monica’s heads exploding in a spray of blood.
Sierra felt herself go weak in the knees as the edge of her vision closed in. It was one thing to say you were ready to kill someone, but it was another thing entirely to stand there and watch it happen in cold blood. She swallowed hard, taking deep breaths to clear her vision.
“Anyone else?” Colt asked coldly.
Everyone stared at the spreading pools of blood but said nothing.
“Anyone still here in ten minutes ends up just like them.”
“Man, I’m too stoned to ride!” Nickel said dreamily.
“Fine,” Colt said, turning his Glock toward the man.
“Wait! Wait!” Nickel cried, putting his hands up in front of him. “I can ride!”
“That’s what I thought,” Colt rumbled.
There was a mad scramble of bodies as the men and women began to dress and throw together what items they needed, all under the watchful eyes of the DVMC. The rush out the shattered door started at the eight-minute mark, but Colt was feeling generous and decided not to shoot the stragglers, giving them an extra couple of minutes to get out.
As the last motorcycle started and bellowed away into the night, Colt took Sierra by the arm and steered her toward the door. “Burn it,” he ordered, not looking back.
Chapter Thirty-Four
“You okay?” Colt asked as he and Sierra walked back to his hog.
“Yeah,” she replied softly. “You?”
“I think so,” he replied. “It had to be done.”
“I know.” She looked up at him, worried by the tone of his voice. He sounded like he was trying to convince himself.
They said nothing else, walking in silence, her hand finding his in the darkness. They waited at the bikes for the rest of the brothers. Chains was the first to arrive, moving slowly, his damaged knee obviously hurting after the long back to back walks.
“You did good, brother,” Colt said softly as Chains slowly swung his leg over his bike.
“Yeah. It felt good to get out of the clubhouse…and get a little payback.”
Colt chuckled. “You sure scared the piss out of Patch.”
“Yeah, he’s lucky that’s all I did. I wanted to kill that asshole. He’s the one who stomped on my knee.”
Colt nodded. A moment later, Nic, Harrison, Gunner and Fletch came trotting up.
“Fuck…I’m getting too old to be running,” Fletcher panted.
“It rigged?” Colt asked the group.
“Yeah. It should make a nice—” before Harrison could finish there was a heavy thump then the sky brightened with the flames of the burning clubhouse.
“Jesus. What did you do?” Sierra asked.
“Natural gas, baby,” Nic said with a grin. “That and a little gasoline. We put Dom’s bike inside on its side and opened the tank to spill the gas. That bitch was heavy as shit to get up the steps and through the door.”
“How did you light it?” Colt asked, impressed. Putting their motorcycle inside the clubhouse sounded like was something a bunch of drug-addled bikers would do. If they were lucky, the police might write off the murders, especially since the rest of the DEMC had cleared out.
“One of Dom’s stinky ass cigars.”
Colt nodded. “Let’s get the fuck out of here,” he said as he thumbed his bike to life. First responders were going to be showing up in a few minutes and he wanted to be long gone by then.
Colt stopped. The other riders continued for a short distance before they realized that Colt wasn’t with them anymore, then turned their hogs and returned.
“You go ahead,” Colt said as the other riders stopped beside him. “I need to spend some time getting my head right.”
The five men looked at him solemnly. “It had to be done, Colt. You know that,” Fle
tch said.
“I know, but I’ve never killed anyone before. It’s starting to sink in.”
Fletch watched Colt a moment then nodded. “Okay. If you need to talk, you know where I am.”
Colt nodded his thanks and the men moved off to turn around and continue to the clubhouse.
Arsen Page 54
