by Chiah Wilder
She smiled weakly and wrote her number on a piece of paper she took out of her purse. “You’re sure you can’t stay?” she asked as she handed it to him.
“Yeah, but I’ll call you.” He swung his leg over his bike and winked at Wheelie and Bones. “Have a good time.”
The men grinned wickedly, and Wheelie tugged Zoe to him. “Let’s have some fun,” he said.
Rock and Rags pulled away from the curb and made their way to the highway. When they stopped at a light, Rags turned to Rock and said, “We’re getting old, dude.”
“Or bored with easy pussy.”
“Probably both.”
As they merged onto the highway, Rock turned and looked over his shoulder at the twinkling lights of the ski resort, knowing he’d be spending a lot more time in Aspen.
He had to.
The urge was too great.
Chapter Five
Lola placed a white legal-sized envelope in front of Rock as she handed out the mail to the brothers in the great room. Rock took a bite out of his breakfast burrito as he watched cars speed around a racetrack on the big-screen TV on the back wall. He glanced at the envelope and moved it to the side of his plate.
“How’s the burrito?” Wheelie asked as he plopped down on the chair beside Rock.
“Damn good. Rosie and Kristy can cook. Where the fuck have you been?” He wiped his mouth.
“Aspen.”
“You and Bones have been there since Monday? Fuck, those chicks must’ve been damned horny.”
“More than horny, man. It was fucking awesome.”
“You tell him about our sex fest?” Bones chuckled and put his plate down on the table. “You and Rags missed a damn good time. Those women were open to anything. I mean fucking anything.” He bit into his roast beef sandwich, then washed it down with a bottle of beer. “And the redhead who was into you was fuckin’ wild. She told me to tell you she’d be waiting for your call.”
“Maybe you should call her since you all know each other a whole lot better.” Rock winked.
“Maybe. If she lived closer I’d consider it.”
“Bones and I were surprised you and Rags bailed. What the fuck was up with the ‘I have to get up early’ bullshit you guys were feeding those chicks? Did you have something waiting for you when you got back?”
Rock shrugged. “I just wasn’t feeling it. No big deal. Anyway, four guys are a crowd for fucking. I prefer two. You had the right ratio.”
“Don’t think you’re fooling me. I know you got a chick on your mind, maybe even on your cock.”
Rock smiled and took a gulp of his orange juice. He pushed his plate away and picked up the envelope. His name and address were handwritten in blue ink, and the writing looked like it’d been made by an unsteady hand. He opened it up and a small flannel bag fell out, indigo with twine securing the top of it. A flush of adrenaline tingled through his body. He unfolded a piece of paper that was in the envelope that read “Beware. You have a gris-gris on you.” Rock reread the two sentences several times, then picked up the bag and held it in his hand.
“What the hell is that?” Wheelie said.
He quirked his lips. “It’s a mojo bag.”
“What the fuck is that?”
“It’s to protect the wearer from evil. It basically wards off curses and hexes. I haven’t seen one of these in a long time.” He picked up the envelope and noticed the postmark was Lafayette, LA.
“What’s in it?” Bones said. “I remember when I was doing time in Angola that a lot of the inmates had bags like that one. They were in all kinds of colors. Don’t you remember?”
Rock slowly nodded. “The bayous are full of superstitions. Mojo bags have different herbs, roots, bones, and minerals in them depending on what they’re used for. This one probably has white sage, devil’s shoestring root, and maybe Dead Sea salts. Sometimes tobacco soaked in whiskey is placed inside for extra protection. This is fuckin’ strange.”
“You got a hex on you? Which chick did you piss off?” Wheelie laughed.
“Who’s putting a hex on who?” Jax asked as he sat down on one of the chairs.
Bones pointed to Rock. “Someone’s put a curse on him and he’s trying to find out who did it.” The guys laughed.
Rock read the note again. “It says someone has given me a gris-gris.”
“What the hell are you talkin’ about?” Jax motioned for Puck to bring him a drink.
“Gris-gris means curse in Cajun. I wonder who’s messin’ with me.” Rock scrubbed his hand against his face.
“You scared, big guy?” Jax tipped his chair back. “We’ll protect you.”
“Shut the fuck up. I don’t believe in this shit. My mom and aunts were into it. Both of my sisters believe it too. Fuck, more than half of the bayou believes in some sort of curses or spells. I’m just wondering who sent it to me, and why now? I haven’t been back home in over five years.”
“Well, if you’re down on smokes, you can always smoke your bag.” Wheelie howled and Bones and Jax followed suit.
Rock laughed. “You’ve got a point there.” He glanced at the clock. “Come on. Church is gonna start in a minute.” The men all rose to their feet as Rock announced to all the brothers in the great room that they had to go to the meeting. He slipped the bag in his pocket and followed his friends to the meeting room.
Antsy, he leaned against the concrete wall, his massive arms crossed against his chest. Who the fuck sent me the mojo? Is Isa trying to get me to come visit? She seemed real anxious about it when we last talked. Deep in his gut, he knew it wasn’t Isa. But who, and why? Fuckin’ weird. His attention focused on Banger when he heard him say, “Frederick Blair.”
“This time the gig is during the day. I’m gonna send the same crew unless there’s an objection.” Banger took a gulp of his beer.
“No objection. But this time we want to be inside. Rock, Wheelie, and Bones can be outside.” The crew who’d been at the house sniggered.
“Who stands where at the house is shit you can all figure out. Anyway, Rock’s in charge of all that. What I got from Liam is that it’s a meeting of a group of billionaires who belong to some elite group—Peak Five. It’ll take place in a couple days.” Banger glanced down at a large calendar he had on the table. “Yeah, Saturday at two o’clock. It’s gonna be…”
Rock’s heart pounded; he’d get another chance to see her. Since their last encounter, all he’d gotten was a quick glimpse of her green eyes before she looked downward. Her hiding her face from him made him think about her all the time. She was mysterious and had a sexy body that had been the fodder for some of his fantasies for the past couple days. I’ve built up all this shit in my head. I gotta see what she really looks like. Then I’ll be good. He hadn’t thought he’d get the chance to see her so soon. This time around, he wasn’t playing her bullshit game.
“How much we making for this babysitting? Seems like we got better things to do,” Axe said.
“About a hundred fifty thousand a gig.” Banger held up his hands to stop the grumbling that was circulating around the room. “I know that’s a good week at our dispensaries. But remember, we’re doing this as a favor for Liam.”
“So is this some permanent shit we’re doing?” Throttle said.
“No. I told Liam we’d help out a few times, but then we’re done. It seems like this rich dude had a big problem with the last several security people he used. Things leaked out about his lifestyle and business dealings. Liam suggested a biker club for security. And here we are. I was thinking to pass it to the Iron Dogs MC.”
“The Iron Dogs are cool. We’ve always gotten along with them,” Chas said. “I’m pretty good friends with their Road Captain. They’re always looking for some easy cash.”
Banger nodded. “Now on to a problem that Hawk and I think could be huge. I’ll let him explain.”
Hawk stood up. “The word is that the Demon Riders are forming a bond with the Gypsy Fiends to buy some fuckin’ hardco
re weapons from them.”
“The Gypsy Fiends? What the fuck are the Demon Riders doing with them? Iowa is a long ways from Louisiana.” Rock shoved away from the wall.
“That’s what a lot of the MCs wanna know. Rock, you’re from their territory. Did you ever come across them?”
“I met a few when I was in the pen, but I didn’t know much about them except that they were bikers who scared the hell outta people. I’d see them around Lafayette when I was young, heard they ran some of the casinos in the nearby parishes. I know they have charters in Mississippi, Arkansas, and Alabama, but them venturing into Iowa is fuckin’ crazy.”
“They’re not aiming to set up any chapters, just selling high-powered shit to the Demon Riders. I didn’t think they had that kind of money to buy the shit to sell.”
Rock shook his head slowly. “They don’t. I know they’re in a turf war with the Hellbenders in Georgia. Gypsy Fiends are claiming the territory and so are the Hellbenders. Is Liam supplying the arms for them? That’s gotta be expensive. Where the fuck are they getting the money? Last I heard their casinos weren’t doing all that great.”
“Liam’s not involved in the deal. We’re positive the Demon Riders have their hands in this. The word is also out that the Gypsy Fiends are buying some hardcore shit directly from an international dealer.”
Rock and Bones exchanged looks before Bones cleared his throat. “There’s no way they’re acting alone. Some company or person is backing them financially. Remember when I was out there visiting my buddy who was in the Devil’s Legions in New Orleans?”
“How could we forget? Your drunken brawl got you six years in the pen and put you outta commission for the Insurgents,” Banger said.
“Yeah, but I met Rock, so it wasn’t a total loss.” The brothers hooted and Banger smiled. “Anyway, they were telling me that the Gypsy Fiends had started putting their fuckin’ noses in places they never even knew existed, like oil stuff and banking shit.”
Hawk narrowed his eyes. “They most probably have a group of investors who need them to do the dirty work. MCs are an asset to crooked people. They know we don’t snitch or leave evidence. But if the Demon Riders get a partnership going with the Gypsy fucks that puts our club and affiliates in jeopardy. As we know, Dustin and Shack have been aiming to take us down since we threw them outta the Insurgents, and with one of our brothers killing one of theirs at the expo, you know the Demon Riders are chomping at the bit to get back at us.”
“We gotta find a way to make sure the fucks don’t buy the weapons from the Gypsy Fiends, then see who’s backing the Gypsy assholes in buying the expensive as hell weapons,” Jax said.
“Exactly. We got Liam working on it through his network, and that’s why we gotta do this fuckin’ babysitting job.” Banger tipped back on his chair. “We’re on high alert until we find out something. Once we do, we’ll strike first if need be.”
“It’s been a while since we’ve gone to war, but if that’s what they want we’ll fuckin’ give it to them. We’ll show them not to mess with Insurgents.” Hawk banged his fist down on the table, bringing the brothers to their feet, their arms held high in the air with their fists clenched as they chanted, “Insurgents forever, forever Insurgents.”
After going over the financials for the club, the meeting was adjourned and the somber group headed to the great room. The thought of going to war weighed heavy on them. For the past several years they’d enjoyed a truce with the Deadly Demons, and the violence of the turf wars hid in the dusty corners of their minds. At that moment, the threat from the Demon Riders was real, especially since they were gearing up to buy some pretty intense weapons. To the brothers, it signaled that the rival club was preparing for an attack on them. No MC would take that lightly, especially an outlaw one.
Rock slammed back his double shot, tilting his chin at Hawk when he approached. “This is some crazy shit, huh?”
Hawk nodded. “Yeah, and the worst fucking timing. Cara’s not gonna understand this at all. We got our wedding coming up. How do I tell her and her parents that their society friends are gonna have to be cool with the brothers surrounding the country club during the reception?”
“I wouldn’t put it past the fuckers to strike at your wedding,” Rock said.
“Me neither. Fuck. What a mess.” Hawk threw back his shot. “I think it’s time for Puck, Blade, and Johnnie to wear the full patch. We got three more prospects who’re coming in, and we could use a few more full patches to deal with the shit we got going all around us.”
“I agree. They’ve earned their patches. At the next church we should put it to a vote.” Rock popped a couple pretzels in his mouth.
“How do you like the guard job? The truth.” Hawk grinned.
Rock shrugged. “It’s okay.”
“You’re fucking outside on Saturday and I’m in the house,” Rags said as he scooped up a handful of pretzels.
Rock stiffened and his eyes turned to slits. “I’ll decide what’s going down for Saturday.”
Hawk and Rags exchanged puzzled glances, and then Rags laughed. “Just joking, man. I know you’re in charge.”
“Yeah.” There’s no way I’m leaving without talking to her. If I have to beat the shit outta the pansy-ass rich guy to get to her, I’ll do it.
“I gotta go.” Hawk placed his empty shot glass on the table.
“I’ll walk out with you. I gotta make a phone call and it’s too damn loud in here.” Rock followed the vice president outside. Threads of blackberry-colored clouds striped the sky as twilight approached. He waited until Hawk drove away, and then he pulled out his phone and called his sister. After he’d exchanged pleasantries with her, he asked, “Did you send me a mojo bag?”
“A mojo bag? No. Why would I do that? Do you need one? I can get one made for you from Madame Vincennes.”
“No, I don’t need one, but someone sent me one. You don’t know anything about that?”
Her gasp filled his ear. “What color is it?”
“I don’t know. It looks like blue but it has some purple in it too.”
A louder gasp. “Have you pissed someone off in a big way?”
He chuckled. “I’m always pissing people off.”
“Roche, this is serious. You have a mojo to ward off curses or evil.”
“I know what it means. I was just wondering if you sent it.”
“Why would I do that?”
“To mess with me so I’d come home for a visit.”
“You don’t joke around with mojos or gris-gris.”
“So who do you think would do it? Lille? I don’t know that many people anymore back home. It came from Lafayette.”
“Lille would never do that. Anyway, she’s been in the Hamptons with her new boyfriend, the old, rich guy. That is strange. Any note with it?”
“Yeah, some shit about someone putting a gris-gris on me. It’s no big deal. I was just asking because I found it strange, that’s all.”
“I’ll see if I can find something out. I’ll pay a visit to Madame Vincennes and have her do your cards. I’ll let you know what she says.”
“Isn’t she like a hundred years old? When we were kids she looked about eighty.”
Isa laughed softly. “She’s not as old as she looks. She’s had a hard life. When her husband was killed in the coal mines in Tennessee she had to raise all her young children by herself. Maman used to go to her for amulets, mojos, and card reading. You knew that, right?”
“A lot of good it did her,” he muttered under his breath. “Her whole family was fuckin’ superstitious.”
“It’s not superstition,” Isa whispered.
“Well, I don’t fuckin’ believe it. I got shit to do. Take care of yourself.”
“I’ll let you know what Madame says.”
He snorted. “Yeah, you do that.”
Rock slipped his phone in his pocket, lit up a joint, and watched the sun begin its descent. He wondered if she was watching it too.
/> Chapter Six
On Saturday at one thirty in the afternoon, nine Harleys roared past the iron gates and up the driveway. The idling engines had an uneven, syncopated cadence that crashed through the quiet in the exclusive neighborhood. When they switched off their ignitions, the quiet returned except for the clink of swinging chains from jeans and the clomping of steel-toed boots on the pavement.
When they arrived at the front of the house, Rock said, “This is a meeting of a bunch of rich guys, so we gotta be on extra alert. I’ll do both inside and out, alternating with Jax. Chas and Rags can be inside and the rest of you will be outside. Make sure all the exits are covered. If there’s a problem, use the remotes.” The men nodded their acquiescence and then spread out to man their posts.
Rock rang the buzzer, his stomach tightening. He fucking hated the way his body was doing weird shit over a woman. A tall man dressed in a black suit opened the door and ushered in the three men. Chas and Rags whistled under their breaths as they stood in the enormous marbled foyer. “My whole fuckin’ house could fit in here,” Chas said under his breath. The butler’s forehead creased in annoyance.
“You want us to wait for Blair here?” Rock asked.
“Yes. Mister Blair will be down shortly.” The thin man slipped away.
“Guess we’re not fuckin’ good enough to go to the living room or whatever the hell it’s called.” Rags’s head went back. “How many feet do you think that fuckin’ chandelier is?”
“Who the fuck cares?” grumbled Rock.
“Thirty feet, and obviously your colleague cares,” a cool, detached voice said.
Without turning around, Rock knew it was Frederick. He was getting sick and tired of the asshole popping up out of nowhere. He turned slowly to him. “I think each of us should cover an exit.”
A smile twitched on Frederick’s thin lips. “You’d need double the men you have for that.”
