Hunter (The Devil's Dragons Motorcycle Club)

by Nikki Wild

  I was already ruined. Didn’t need a kid to do that to me.

  “Guns,” I commented, meeting John’s gaze. “I came here for some guns. Do you have them ready?”

  His stare darkened.

  “Yeah,” he replied, throwing one last look at his daughter before leading me to the nearby tool shed. “I went ahead and pulled them this morning. Didn’t have time to properly prepare them, not with the kid around…”

  He popped open the door and removed a few wood panels from inside the shed, revealing the assault weaponry.

  “Are they clean?” I asked.

  John handed me a disassembled rifle. “Yeah, they’re clean. Bought them at a gun show a few years back. No receipts, no background check. Filed off the serial numbers too… It’s the least I could do for you.”

  “Already done plenty for me,” I said, collecting the weapons as he handed some over to me.

  We brought our small armory over to the back patio table, and I began examining the selection while he played with his daughter for a moment.

  The selection included some heavy-grade pistols, several assault rifles, a shotgun, and a collapsible stun baton. It would have to be enough.

  “Wish I had more to give you,” John told me as he came up to my side again. “This is the best shit I’ve got, but I’m a little low on bullets."

  “Fine by me,” I replied, glancing down the scope with one eye closed. “I’m flying solo anyway. Can only bring what I can carry.”

  John hesitated.

  I knew that he felt guilty.

  Feeling like I should say something, I paused during my gun examination. “You have a family John. Don’t go even thinking about following me no matter what happens. Your wife would kill me. The kid, too, when she got old enough to load a rifle.”

  While I chose my words, I picked up another gun, this time a pistol. I straightened my arm and gazed down the sights, imagining Mudflap on the other end.

  “Besides, I can handle this alone.”

  He scratched the back of his head. My friend didn’t look convinced.

  “I just feel like, maybe I should be there with you. Like old times.”

  I set the gun down with a sigh.

  “Backup is already on the way,” I replied, lying through my teeth. “My brothers are riding out from El Paso as we speak.”

  “Once upon a time, we were brothers,” he reminded me. “Been a long time since we did our part in the war…”

  “Yeah,” I agreed. “Long time since.”

  “If I’d fucking been there, I’d have died to keep you out of their goddamn hands,” John slammed his fist on the table. “Not a day has gone past that I haven’t regretted being sent home…”

  “They brought down the building around us,” I told him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Wasn’t a goddamn thing you could have done for anybody on our squad. Nobody had a chance to fire a shot.”

  “That shouldn’t have happened to you.”

  “Shouldn’t happen to anyone,” I told him, fighting back the memory of all those screams every night I was a war prisoner… “But I made it out of there in one piece, so don’t feel fucking bad for me,” I added, meaningful watching his hand.

  “Laugh all you want, but look at this neat little trick,” John glared as he lifted his hand. It began to spin dramatically before fast-paced circus music started playing.

  We shared a good laugh.

  “Arietta loves that one,” he chuckled. “No idea why they shoved a little speaker in there, but I figured why not have a little fun with it?”

  I motioned to the guns. “Look, if you feel like you owe me a debt, consider it repaid. This’ll be enough for me to put things right.”

  “Didn’t you say you came from out west?” John spoke up, sounding a bit skeptical. “How far are your men from New Orleans?”

  I fought back a snarl. Lying to this man was against my code of honor, but my eyes fell back on the little girl who was blissfully unaware of the evils in the world. I couldn’t have this man follow me back to New Orleans. He’d only complicate things, and if anything happened to him, I couldn’t have that on my conscience.

  “They’re close enough.”

  He watched his daughter for a few more minutes while I finished examining the weapons. They were pretty nice. Military grade, and obviously well maintained.

  “What’s this?” I asked, lifting up a large canister with a big red ring hanging from the top.

  “Be careful with that shit. It’s some kind of high powered pepper spray. They use it on brown bears up north. It’s illegal in twelve states,” John replied quietly.

  “Why do you have goddamned bear spray?”

  “White carpets, Grizz. The wife would kill me if I shot some jackass burgular. One hit of this stuff and they’ll be running,” John laughed before clasping me on the shoulder. “Anything else you need? Anything at all?”

  “Yeah,” I nodded. “A duffel bag.”

  John glanced over the fence at the motorcycle in his driveway, shaking his head. “How do you expect to transport a duffel bag of weaponry down five hours of interstate on that?”

  I crossed my arms.

  “I’ve managed worse.”

  “Jesus, Grizz,” John groaned, palming his shaved scalp. “I know better than to ask who’s crossed you, but you’re out for fucking blood! I have a car. I’ll come with you.”

  I smiled darkly.

  “These men put my woman in danger. They’ve made their threats clear. She doesn’t have another fucking soul in the world looking out for her but me, so yeah. I’m out for fucking blood… But this is my fight, not yours.”

  He stepped over my way. “If this is what you want…”

  “It is.”

  “In that case, I won’t stand in your way. But God help you, Grizz.”

  Yes, I thought to myself.

  God help me.

  Less than half an hour later, I had already hit the road. The duffle bag had been an awkward fit, but I’d strapped it down to the back of the motorcycle as best I could.

  John was right to be concerned.

  But I was doing what I had to.

  The ride was just as long and goddamn boring the second time ‘round. By the time I rolled up into New Orleans and dismounted, I had a sore back coming in.

  Can’t get old yet, I thought to myself. Plenty of time for that when I’m done dying.

  I unstrapped the duffle bag and brought it inside. No new debris greeted me, and a quick glance through the rooms with a raised pistol proved that I was alone.

  With the safety check over, I swept an arm across the dining room table, brushed that shit to the floor, and dropped the bag onto the tabletop, pulling out the contents piece by piece.

  A glance at the clock told me that I had only several hours to set up… That was plenty of time to scour the local gun shops for extra ammunition and supplies, but I knew damn well that would bring too much attention. This wasn’t some strike on a cartel south of the border fence... I was attacking a motorcycle gang on United States soil, in the outskirts of a major city.

  It was going to get messy.

  There were going to be questions, and I couldn’t have my face on video walking into every goddamned gun shop in the neighborhood.

  I knew damn well I’d either die in a blaze of weapons, or I’d be arrested for multiple homicides. There wasn’t much room for a third option.

  I fed what bullets I had into the assault rifle cartridge, and carefully loaded each handgun with a half clip apiece. It would have to be enough. I’d make sure Kate was safe, and then I could die happy.

  My hand dipped back into the duffel bag, wrapping itself around something I hadn’t expected. John had left me a little surprise. I pulled it free and lay it on the table, staring silently at the small electronic device. It looked like half of a pair of binoculars, with a strange head strap attacked to it and a swing swivel that would bring it down over an eye. This thing was meant for hunters. I
t wasn’t exactly the kind of gear we had over in the middle east, but I knew immediately that it gave me an edge I couldn’t ignore.

  Maybe there’s another way after all…

  Twenty-Five

  Kate

  After being left alone with my thoughts for a mind-numbing amount of time, I realized that there was only one way that I was going to get out of this mess.

  It involved Mark being in the room.

  Nothing revolted me more than the idea of getting closer to that large, stupid oaf than the locked door between us, but it was the only chance that I had.

  Maybe, if I was fast enough, I could even contact Grizz and save him the trouble of walking into an obvious trap.

  I was actually disappointed when one of the other biker thugs brought me my breakfast. Of course, this wasn’t helped when the asshole slammed it through the flap and splattering it across the floor.

  At least they knew how to treat a lady.

  So, I waited longer. You really start to appreciate your phone when you’ve been kidnapped and you’re trapped in some bullshit room waiting for the chance to bust your way out.

  No clocks, no watch, and no phone meant that I had no idea how long I was in that stupid fucking place.

  After my hundredth game of I Spy (spoiler alert: the color was always black, and the answer was always an oil stain on the ground), I finally heard footsteps outside.

  “Hello?” I called out.

  Please be Mark.

  Please be Mark.

  I can’t believe I’m fucking saying this.

  Please be Mark…

  The flap scraped open, and I saw the shape of a face slip into view, blocked out by the silhouette from outside.

  “Heya, Buttercup,” Mark grinned.

  Oh thank God, I reluctantly grumbled to under my breath.

  “Good, it’s you…”

  Mark looked suspicious. “What, you been waiting for me or somethin’?”

  “Something like that,” I smiled as seductively as I can. “I’m just so glad you saved me from that devil, and my fingers just aren’t doing it for me right now...”

  Mark scoffed. “Bet you’re all kinds of horny in there, but I ain’t gonna let you out just yet. Boss says I can’t fuck you till we take care of business.”

  I fake-pouted. “Are you sure? Because I can give you a show… Maybe I’ll let you watch me play with myself. That’s not against the rules, is it?”

  He licked his lips, glancing to the side and back again. “If you’re that desperate, Sweet-tits, I’ve got somethin’ better than your finger.”

  “Yeah?” I cooed.

  It was like taking fucking candy from a baby, dealing with him. He was stupid, but he was strong, too…

  “But it needs to wait until we deal with that Devil’s Dragon. Boss has it out for that club.”

  God damnit.

  “Since when have you let other men tell you when you can or can’t take what’s yours?” I asked, pushing the envelope as hard as I dared to.

  I watched the cogs twist in his head.

  Oh shit, I realized. I’ve pushed too hard. He knows something’s up now…

  Grinned knowingly, Mark closed the flap.

  Fuck.

  I heard something twisting in the door, and it was yanked open. Mark quickly stepped into the room, locking it behind himself and keeping an eye on me.

  Damn, he’s a little craftier than I wanted.

  “You’re right, Buttercup. I should be able to fuck you whenever I want. Glad you’re seein’ things my way…”

  Even from here, I could smell the beer on his breath. This asshole had been drinking. Never could hold his liquor…

  The beer would make him stupid, but it would make him even harder to put down. I’d have to play this very carefully if I wanted to overpower him and escape, with no weapons on hand.

  No weapons besides the allure of sex…

  “Come on, big boy,” I smiled as I rose up from the floor. “I’m all yours.”

  Mark lumbered over, a stupid look plastered across his face. He was a stray dog, ready to fuck, but about as dumb as dog shit.

  “Liiiittle closer.”

  If I was lucky…

  I could take him by surprise...

  Mark came within striking distance, and I twisted my face in anger as I lashed out, quick as lightning – raking my nails across his face and drawing blood.

  “Goddammit!” He snarled, before dropping into laughter. “Feisty little bitch!”

  I took a few steps back as he swatted chaotically, his other hand covering his eyes. It was hard to gauge an opening, but maybe…

  “Now I’m gonna really make it a night to remember,” Mark chuckled. “I’m thinkin’, now’s as good a time as any to break your ass in.”

  My insides shriveled at the thought.

  No, I shook my head.

  He’s NEVER touching me again.

  My eyes went from him to the locked door, then back again. He wasn’t flailing around as much, and he was starting to pull his hand free from his face…

  I threw myself forward into his chest with my shoulder, punching him in the jaw with the other fist when he drunkenly staggered back a few steps.

  Mark managed to grab my wrist as he fell backwards, pulling me down to the ground against him.

  Shit.

  He was too strong to grapple, his arms quickly wrapping around me before he pinned me down beneath him. As he started to get his lumbering weight on me, I managed to get a hand free long enough to jab my thumb into his eye, causing him to recoil backward.

  He still had me beneath him so I grabbed his free hand and bit down hard into the fleshy part beneath his thumb.

  “Goddammit, bitch!”

  I pulled free as he tried to smack me upside the skull, managing only a glancing blow. It was enough to put some stars in my vision, but I kept it together.

  Another hit like that, or WORSE…

  His hands came down around my throat, and he put his weight into closing my windpipe. I held panic back as he grinned toothily, snarling with anger as he choked the life from my body.

  I tried pushing back on his face, even grabbing his own throat, but his meaty arms were positioned so that I couldn’t reach it.

  Everything started going dark…

  Until my hand brushed the metal plate.

  I brought it up against the side of his head, slamming the thin bit against his temple. It hurt my hand to strike him so hard, but Mark released his grip and clattered to the ground beside me.

  While he tried to stagger to his feet, I clamored hazily to my own, taking a few deep breaths, and jumped on his rising form from behind.

  My arms didn’t have anything on his, but they still wrapped around his neck just as good. With my forearm held to his throat, I slowly choked him out as he stumbled around, trying to pull me free.

  His meaty arms couldn’t bend far enough to reach me. He could barely get a decent grab at my clothes, and I’d always shake free while clinging to his back.

  Mark finally got to his feet, groaning and sputtering away, and slammed my back against the metal wall. I shuddered with the pain as I almost lost my grip, but held on tight.

  He did it again, weaker this time, although I still almost lost my latch around his throat.

  His head started to roll, and I knew I had him. That was until he pushed over backwards…

  I barely moved my head out of the way before it was crushed against the concrete floor. I still banged it hard enough to see stars, and I completely lost my grip.

  Dammit, I groaned.

  He’s won.

  There’s no way I can fight him now…

  But Mark didn’t move, his lumbering form keeping me pinned beneath him. But now, he was facing upwards, his back holding me down to the ground, arms spread wide.

  It took a moment to realize this, and a little longer to figure out that I couldn’t easily move him off of me.

  His crushing pressu
re was crushing my chest, and I could barely breath beneath him. Even out cold, he’s gonna choke me out…

  I barely got my palms in place beneath him. Throwing everything I could into it, I managed to slightly shift him over a couple of inches. Delicious air quickly filled my lungs, and I gasped with desperate victory.

  After a brief moment of pushing and shimmying, I was finally able to slowly pull myself free from Mark’s heavy, oafish body.

  The fucker was already starting to move again, letting a groan escape from his lips as I kicked him hard upside the head a few times. That seemed to put him out again, but I was still locked in this damn room. More importantly, he still had the keys on him… A moment of searching his pockets, and I found my prize. Fumbling in the dark, I found the right key, unlocking my way to victory.

  I closed the door behind myself and moved to lock it when I heard activity. Quickly darting behind a nearby crate, I waited for a biker to stumble past, the smell of fresh liquor on his breath.

  He stopped on the other side of the door, holding himself up against the wall. When it was obvious that he wasn’t moving, I glanced around the other side of the crate, finally getting an idea of where I was.

  The dim lights along the ceiling revealed that I was in a hallway of some abandoned building, by the looks of it.

  We hadn’t moved far from New Orleans. My sense of direction told me the van had taken the road west out of the city.

  That meant that I was in Kenner, or maybe Metairie. The sound of a passenger airliner filtered through the thin metal ceiling as I took a moment to catch my breath and take stock of my surroundings. Kenner was where they put the international airport for the city.

  We had to be close to it.

  With this drunken asshole nearby, I decided to keep my head back in the game. If I was gonna break out, I’d need to be sharp…

  I knew I wasn’t far from the exit. They’d gone whole hog and slipped a black bag over my head for the entire little ride here, but we hadn’t walked far once we arrived. A couple doors, maybe one big room, and I’d be out.

  Realizing I couldn’t get close enough to lock Mark in, I gave up on that line of thinking and snuck away past a few more crates. It was my hope to slink out of the hallway and see what was what…