by Nicole Snow
“No fuckin' detour signs neither!” Tin yelled back.
The hand cupped over his mouth to amplify shifted to his brow, and he stared into the woods off to the side, sensing something. Lion had his seat belt off, reaching for his gun, when the first evil looking bastard stepped out of the brush.
“Fucking prospects,” a big man with a long jaw snorted, his colors different, somehow dirtier than the Deadly Pistols. “Don't you assholes know you don't shoot when you're completely surrounded?”
“Fuck you!” Tinman shouted, ready to fire.
Another man rammed a shotgun into his back before he could pull the trigger.
I covered my mouth, trying not to scream. I was fully expecting to see the poor prospect get sliced in two by gunfire. By some miracle, nobody let their bullets go – yet.
I held my breath. A big, mean bastard with a ginger beard and a scarred face came stepping out next to the first man, wearing a similar cut.
“Good man, Sharp. Get their fucking weapons. All of 'em. We ain't taking no chances with these crazy motherfuckers after Dusty slashed his fucking throat on my knife.”
Another man came to my door, ripped it open, and began pulling me out. He was big, bald, and mean. He made sure to dig his hand into my breast when he got hold. He spun me around, and I finally saw the back of the leader, a flaming black torch with crossbones underneath it sewn on his back.
TORCHES MC, GEORGIA, it said.
I wanted to scream.
Before I could, the bastard holding me clapped his hand over my mouth. He carried me out to the small group forming in the middle of the road.
“This the bitch, Prez? Hot little thing. Gonna fetch us a pretty penny to recoup her daddy's losses, and then some!”
This can't be happening. Somebody help me!
I looked at the prospects in horror. Tinman was down on his knees, shaking with rage while the Torches bound his hands.
Lion cracked first. He pushed the two snakes holding him, wheeled around before they could take his gun, and fired.
One of the bastards took a shot right through the shoulder. The man screamed, using his last energy to ram Lion in the stomach, before he crumpled to the ground.
“Sharp!” Red Beard screamed.
“On it, Prez.” All of them surrounded Lion, and their fists began to fall.
I squirmed away, trying to hide the horror, watching as they beat him to death. Thirty seconds in, he was a gasping, shaking mess on the ground.
The demon holding me grabbed my face and twisted it to face the carnage, chuckling as he did. “You like that, bitch? Believe me, you're a little more valuable than that turd, but we got no problem breaking your bones if you get outta line. This is your one chance to learn.”
“Rawdog – enough.” The big man with the ginger beard barked, pacing in front of Tinman, who'd finally lost his nerve.
“Goddamn. Shit. Fuck,” the brother whispered, looking up at the man with pure hatred in his eyes.
“You tell your pisser friends that we got what we came for. I'm a reasonable man, even though knocking the shit outta your brother says otherwise. This is all about Jimmy fuckin' Chase's debt. Nothing else. Don't need no more blood between clubs.” He paused, spat tobacco juice on the ground, dangerously close to Tinman.”
“Fuck you, asshole,” Tin growled. “Dust's gonna kill you when he catches up to your crew. You're talking about blood, blood, blood, but you already drew it, you stupid sonofabitch. That's if Firefly doesn't get to you first, fuckin' with his girl like this...”
“Yeah, yeah,” the Torches' leader said, eerily calm.
“Tinman!” I screamed, yelling through the greasy fingers over my mouth one second before ginger beard pulled his gun.
It happened so fast. My eyes pinched shut as I heard the shot, echoing through the mountains. Tinman screamed.
“Look at him, bitch. Look at what's gonna happen if you don't follow everything we say to a fuckin' T.”
I did. He was still breathing, thank God, crumpled to the ground, writhing. They'd shot him through the shoulder – roughly the same spot where Lion's bullet had ripped through the Torches biker, now over by the tree, nursing his wound.
“Gag him, Sharp. Get the bitch in the truck downstream, and let's hit the fucking road. We're done here.”
“Red, you think we can blow the state before the Pistols catch up? Sources says they haven't left their home turf. Fuckers are close. Too bad the Irish have gone quiet on us the last couple days.”
I blinked, and then looked at the big man's name tag. Jesus Christ. His name was actually Red Beard?
For a thousand different reasons, I was going to be sick.
“Fuck off, Veep. Those crazy sons of bitches can barely fight their own asses outta a paper fuckin' bag. They can't even defend their shit in their territory. Broke ass, sorry motherfuckers. We'll be back in Atlanta before they realize this bitch is gone. And when they do, they'll know she ain't worth raiding over. They're not gonna face down the Deads and us for one bitch.”
An engine growled behind us. A car came roaring up the road, toward the barricade. My heart swelled hopefully. I prayed it was the MC, sending backup, or at least some bystander who'd see us and call the cops over the phony barricade.
“Shit!” Red Beard swore, raising his gun. His men followed suit.
The two guys holding me pushed me forward, toward the forest, dragging me behind the trees before anyone could see me up close.
“Get the fuck outta here, you little idiot! Get out, get out, get out!” Red Beard waved his gun at the party crasher, before he raised it in the air and fired a hail of bullets. Then he snatched another one from Sharp, and emptied its clip just as quickly.
The horror just didn't stop. I caught a flash of a gray haired old man inside the car, his eyes wide and scared, clumsily revving his car in reverse. He almost drove off into the gorge below in his race to get away.
No! Goddamnit! I thought. Go, and pick up your phone. Pick it up. Pick it –
“We go. Right now, dammit. Too many assholes coming around to watch us jack ourselves off. We've already wasted enough time.”
The bastards holding me chuckled softly. I knew it then, as they marched me deeper into the woods. Help wouldn't be coming.
I'd be their prisoner, totally at their mercy. They'd do whatever they wanted to me.
It took all my strength not to vomit. Everything inside me tightened up, blurred together, a killing anguish fused with physical exhaustion. Numbness seeped through me like my entire body was trying to flush out some poison – except it was all on the outside, sinking in, going deeper.
I couldn't get rid of it fast enough. Not before I passed out.
“Prez, she's dragging,” Rawdog said, slapping me across the face. I couldn't feel it when the blackness welled up, swallowing me under.
I'm sorry, little one. Firefly, forgive me.
There's no more fight left. I tried.
I can't. I just can't anymore.
We're going to pay daddy's debt now. All of us.
Jesus Christ, forgive me.
11
Gone (Firefly)
I was riding with Joker, Skin, and Sixty on the edge of town when I got the call. Crawl was on the line. Soon as I picked up, he said the words that stopped my fucking heart.
“Prospects haven't checked in. Can't get a hold of Lion or Tin. Lion's phone's completely fucking dead, Firefly. Got a bad feeling about this. Real fuckin' bad.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck. FUCK.
“Tell the Prez, goddamn it!”
“Already did.”
I gripped my bike, flooring it so damned hard the roar nearly drowned his ass out. “Then you watch the clubhouse the hangarounds. Tell Dust to get the fuck out here. Just take the road to my sis' place. That's where we're going 'til we find 'em.”
I never should've left her with those fuckin' clowns. Never!
Yeah, I was being harsh, but just then I didn't give a shit.
Lion and Tin would've done their best, whatever the fuck happened. Damned shame their best wasn't good enough – not when every man who'd earned his full patch had years of experience on those boys.
Something vile and dark tugged at the pit of my stomach. My guts were on fire, feeding pure hatred into my veins.
I'd been ready to kill since lockdown started, anything to get this bullshit over and done, so I could bring my woman home.
Killing didn't cut it anymore.
A lot of motherfuckers wearing the black flame on their cuts were still gonna die. That much was certain. Their whole fuckin' club was about to go extinct.
But now they'd hurt bad before they drew their last breaths. A bullet to the head or a knife to the throat wouldn't do. That was letting the fucks off free and easy.
A thousand tortures came charging through my skull like a damned cattle herd.
Fire. Kerosene. A bed of broken glass. Their heads stuffed on a pike like a fucking kabob, gagged with their own filthy balls.
I'd do it all. I'd turn into a mad dog killing machine 'til I got my Cora home, and anybody who tried to stop me was gonna pay with blood.
I started dialing the brothers riding with me. Joker heard me breathing raw hell into my phone.
He grunted. Didn't ask what the fuck was wrong, or what the hell had happened. Just cleared his throat and growled into the line.
“Drive on ahead of me, brother. Lead us wherever you think'll kill them quickest.”
Amen.
Half an hour later, we tore down the loneliest stretch of highway, the shortcut between Knoxville and Tri-Cities that I always took to Hannah's place.
Found a mess of cones and barriers along the mountain road, something that looked like it'd been ripped apart lightning quick. I slowed my bike and parked along the curb, raising my hand for the rest of the boys to do the same.
Then I saw Lion's dirty blue truck, one of the doors popped open, and my heart began to beat the fuck outta my chest.
Shit. Fuck. Goddamn!
Heard the groan as soon as I got off my bike. Sixty swore, ran to the opposite side of the road, and started looking in the ditch.
Shit was full of weeds, half-flooded with mud. Took about two minutes just to see the dark, dirty metal sticking up in the muck.
“Fuck! That's our boy's bike.” Sixty got on his hands and knees, sliding down into the crap.
Heard it again, a man grinding his teeth, or trying to scream through several layers who fuck knew what.
Where the hell was it coming from? I slid down behind my brother, looking up at Joker, who gave me a nod. Drew my nine as Sixty and me waded through thick, stagnant pond scum, heading for a sewer drain.
Couldn't stop thinking about the worst every step we took. Might find anything lurking in the slime, even what was left of my girl.
A man groaned again, this time in the darkness. I stopped by the edge, motioned to Sixty, and gripped my gun.
He nodded. Ready, Firefly.
I had to go in. Had to find out who the fuck was in there. If it was one of the Torches, bleeding out like a stuck fucking animal, I'd put a bullet right through his head.
“Put your fuckin' hands up!” I roared, whipping around and peering into the shadowy blackness.
More groaning. Shrill, but muffled. Fuck.
I dove in. Sixty was right behind me as soon as he heard it. Found Tin up against a wall with a dirty rag in his mouth, his wrists cut from working off some shitty plastic handcuffs. We dragged them both out, Tinman with his bleeding shoulder, and the poor, beaten brother he'd been protecting.
Both our boys were in bad shape, but Lion was worse. Tin's hands were too fucked up to get a good pull on the gag in his mouth. I ripped it out for him.
“Oh, fuck! Firefly. Shit, you've gotta help him!” Tinman tried to bolt outta my arms when he saw Lion moving his head. “That's the first he's moved since those fuckers beat the shit out of him. He's hurt real bad, boss. Been struggling to breathe for like ten or twenty minutes.”
Stooping to Sixty, I carefully picked up Lion. Carried the brother over to Joker, who'd come down into the muck with us. Veep helped me haul him up, trying to do our damnedest not to rattle him much more.
I'd seen guys torn to pieces in Uncle Sam's service, and with the club. Lion was one of the worst I'd ever seen. He moved in and out of consciousness every second, groaning and swearing, too many bones feeling like rocks rolling around in a sack underneath his skin.
Those sick, sadistic motherfuckers were paying for what they'd done to him ten times over. And shit, I still hadn't even asked about Cora.
So damned desperate to get this boy loaded to the nearest fuckin' hospital I hadn't had the chance. Fuck!
Dust roared up just as we got him in the back of the truck. “What the hell's going on here?” Prez shouted, staring at us all covered in grime.
“Torches fucked up both our prospects,” Sixty said, his fingers trembling slightly as he pulled out a smoke. “Don't know if Lion's gonna make it. Boy's been ripped to hell and back.”
Joker lost his nerve first. He didn't say shit, just slammed his fist into the side of the truck so hard he left a dent.
“Easy, boys, easy. Save that shit for the Torches,” Dust growled, coming toward me. Probably because I was the only one with the ruthless calm. “Where's Cora?”
“Tin!” I called his name, leading the Prez around to the passenger side, where we found the prospect blowing into his hands and rubbing 'em together, desperate to warm up. “Debrief us. Quick as you can. Gotta get you and Lion into checkup real fuckin' quick.”
“Fuckers ambushed us, brothers. It all happened so fast, they were moving like devils, Firefly, we couldn't fight 'em off.” He looked at Dust. “Prez, we fucked up bad. We should've both went down dying, but they would've hurt the girl. Red Beard, the fuckin' snake, left me in one piece to tell you he says you're even. They got what they came for. They're gonna keep her. No more fighting, if we let her go.”
“Fuck, no,” I growled, before the Prez could speak. “You're letting the bruises those bastards left on your brain do the talking if you think we're quitting. We have to go to Atlanta. Kill them. Wipe out the fuckin' Torches for good. Deads, miles, and blood be damned.”
I looked at Dust. He squinted, his cold gray eyes more like a wolf's than ever before. There was nothing there, nothing fucking human. Just the same silent, cold glint I saw reflected back in my own eyes.
Slowly, he pulled out a smoke and nodded, before he finally turned to Sixty. “Land these boys a doctor. Drop them off. Tell Crawl to leave the clubhouse and watch over 'em. Then get your asses back up here, pronto.”
“Yeah? I'm on it, Prez. Where we goin'?”
Dust waited for me to say it. When I did, it hissed out through my teeth like hellfire in a rusty furnace.
“Atlanta.”
We rode hard, all through the night, feeling the cool Georgia rain pouring down our backs.
I saw demons everywhere. On the road, old men riding who looked like Deads at first, ready to catch my bullets, before I saw they were harmless.
Old farts out for joy rides. Nothing more.
The fucks were everywhere, though, ghosts of the bastard MC we should've been fighting with the Torches – but they'd pissed away our alliance forever.
I only saw traps and thieves everywhere, horseshit obstacles stopping me from bringing her home. They had to go.
Every last one of 'em.
Granny always said I had a gift growing up, just like her, when she hallucinated shit before it really happened. Didn't know about that, but I did see a hundred bloody visions unfurling on the road ahead, steaming and savage.
I saw my girl in some shitty clubhouse in Atlanta, being held down, a pitch black hood over her head. I saw them doing terrible, soul-killing things to her.
I vowed I'd hold one blood-soaked Torches' cut every time they did.
But that promise didn't mean a fuckin' thing. Al
l that mattered was bringing her home, safe and sound.
Having her at my side again, in my bed, on the back of this bike beneath the warm, sunny Smokies.
Anything beat riding in the cold, cruel rain. And even ice rolling down my back beat the fuck outta living without my woman.
I saw us tangled together again. Cora's hot lips on mine. I'd kiss her twice as hard, pull her hips into mine, flatten her against our bed, grinding 'til I fucked every ounce of pain outta her, and then some.
I'd already had her pussy, her heart, and a piece of her soul. I'd given her all mine in spades, shit I swore I'd never give up to any chick, long as I walked this earth a free man.
That was before her, sweet Cora, and there was no goddamned fuckin' way I'd ever go back to that soulless, empty void.
Dust and Joker rolled on ahead of me like machines, with Sixty and Skin behind me, a slow moving anaconda of bikers prowling into the night. We were out to murder, to un-fuck ourselves after the vicious humiliation of having our two youngest brothers beat to hell and home again on our own turf.
Every brother had a thousand reasons to send the Torches hurling down to the blackest pit of hell where they belonged.
I had a thousand and one.
Didn't fuckin' care how hard the rest of the boys fought. I'd fight harder.
I gripped my handlebars 'til my wrists went numb, all I could do to keep myself sane through the long, hard ride south.
Cora, I'm coming for you, darlin'. Coming 'til I bring you home.
Atlanta loomed large in the distance by the middle of the night, its lights twinkling in the rain. We'd never been to the Torches' clubhouse, but we had a map straight up their assholes.
Just then, I hated the fuck outta those city lights. They were a prison, holding my girl hostage, beacons for the vipers we'd been sent to destroy.
I wanted to slink through the night like a goddamned villain and punch out every single one of 'em with my bare hands. No time for that shit.
Sending the Torches to the underworld would have to do.
