Killers, Bikers & Freaks: A Walt Asher Florida Thriller (The Walt Asher Thriller Series Book 1)

by Andrew Allan

  “I’ll be more than happy to shoot you Walt, so don’t...”

  The rumble came from just beyond the property gates.

  Karen went silent.

  Tanjeris’ jaw dropped.

  They saw what I saw. What I had arranged for and hoped would arrive in time:

  DG and the boys rode their rumbling cycles onto the driveway and parked at the base of the steps. To a man, they were armed and aiming at Doug and Karen.

  I heard Karen catch her breath.

  Oater showed a lascivious smile when he saw her outfit. A catcall whistle squealed out from the pack.

  Karen dropped her aim and crossed her arms to cover up.

  “Who the fuck are they?” yelped Tanjeris in a pinched, desperate voice.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

  DG DISMOUNTED HIS bike and walked up the steps, shotgun in hand.

  “Step aside, Walt,” said DG.

  I did just that, as DG stepped up face to face to Tanjeris..

  DG took the guns from Tanjeris’ and Karen’s hands and tossed them on the lawn.

  “Good kids,” he DG, still staring him right in the face.

  It was a great pleasure seeing this simple, dirty biker intimidating a man of such power and privilege, to use Tanjeris’ phrase.

  “Now as I understand it, you’re the pieces of shit that got some of my crew killed. We don’t let that slide,” said DG.

  “How much do you want?” said Tanjeris. He was so scared he couldn’t control his blinking.

  “We’ll pay. Whatever you want,” said Karen. Tanjeris nodded, eager to confirm what she’d said.

  “That’s exactly what I expected,” said DG.

  He made a hand signal. In a flash, two of his bikers were off their choppers and up the steps. A moment later they had chains wrapped and locked around Tanjeris and Karen’s necks. Karen’s biker made sure to pull her negligee to the side and take in an eye full. She didn’t dare move.

  DG turned to me. “You’ve done your part. Now, we do ours. Don’t stick around,”

  “Got it. And, thanks,” I said.

  He smiled and patted my chest with his heavy, fingerless-gloved fist.

  One last look at Karen and Tanjeris. They looked pathetic. He wiped sweat from his brow. I saw that ring again. With the weird symbol on it. I grabbed his wrist and started to pull the ring off. He made a fist to prevent it. DG pushed the barrel of his shotgun against Tanjeris’ nose. He relaxed his hands and the ring slid off.

  I looked at it, checked inside the band, but there was no inscription. Tanjeris looked defeated. And, it was satisfying. I pocketed the ring and looked to DG.

  “See you at the river,” I said.

  I turned and started walking down the steps.

  “Wait!” said Karen.

  I stopped and looked back.

  “What about my kids?” she said.

  I contemplated.

  “I’ll tell them how great their father was,” I said.

  I walked out through the heavy iron front gate, which DG’s crew had dismantled to get their choppers through. As I stepped over the threshold, the choppers roared to life behind me, their engines grunting and snorting in anticipation of action. I turned back for one last look.

  DG made a directive signal to his crew. The bikers were turning their choppers away from the house. To my surprise, DG and the two bikers who had been guarding Tanjeris and Karen trotted down the steps and hopped on their cycles.

  That left the couple up there alone and struggling to get loose of the heavy metal chains still wrapped tight around their necks. Chains that were secured on the opposite end to the backs of motorcycles. Chains that would tighten as the choppers pulled away. Chains that would rip them off the steps like rag dolls and drag their bodies across the pavement until they were shredded, powerless, and thoroughly unprivileged.

  I turned away before the chains tightened.

  The chopper engines revved and roared.

  Karen and Doug screamed.

  Despite the cooling temperatures, it was time to drive home and take a much-needed dip in the river.

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  About the Author

  Yes, it’s true. Andrew Allan really is a top infomercial writer and director. But wait, there’s more! He also makes wild cult movies, raises his three children, and splits his time between Gainesville and Clearwater, Florida. He enjoys hearing from readers at AndrewAllanBooks.com