When Steven walked in, the first thing he asked was, "Have you heard anything out of Tuck?”
Cleve replied, "No, not yet. But if he's making his way back here, he should be showing up any day."
Then Steven said something that sent a shockwave through Tuck and his senses, and convinced him where he stood the man needed to fucking die. "Well if he shows up, just play the role of being shocked. If everything works out, his little lady will be ready and waiting as well, just got her location, no one thought to check the old man’s shoes for tracking, just took a few days to find the bastard, signal was weak. If he walks in this door, play your cards right, Cleve. You know how he can read people, and if he suspects anything, you know what he'll do.”
"Well, we have the advantage, just need to get the rest of the guys here. Then we can take the rest of those bastards down as well,” Cleve said.
After hearing that, Tuck was pissed, and worried, but he wasn't confused about what he had to do. As he listened, Steven said he was going back out to the ranch for a few days so he'd be close by in case Tuck showed up. Then he reminded Cleve to get in touch with him the minute Tuck showed.
"Don't be stupid and try to take him on yourself. Tuck is dangerous, so let’s handle him like he is, okay?” Steven said.
Cleve assured Steven that if he showed up he would call and not make any moves until he got there.
Tuck heard the door close signaling Steven left. Well, he would be back soon enough after he took care of Cleve. He stayed hidden listening for the opportunity to make his move. Cleve was a big man and he would need to get the jump on him.
It got quiet and he slid from his spot behind the refrigerator he had hidden behind and saw Cleve bent over looking at gages on a bike so he moved silently toward him. Just when he was ready to grab for the man, a ray of light took that opportunity to shine on him, reflecting his image on the wall beside Cleve. Cleve turned and the fight was on.
A fucking ray of light put him in his current situation, on his knees with a gun pressed tight to his neck and him talking and irritating his captor with every detail of his life that brought him to this point while he waited for Steven to get back. Shouldn’t be much longer now, the prick had been gone that long.
The smile on Tuck’s face left, replaced with a blank dark stare of a man who had lived and been through a lot in his life. He reached up with his hands that were tied together and grabbed Cleve right between the legs, twisting and at the same time leaned to the side as the shot was fired from the gun, hitting the wall while Cleve screamed from his dick being damn near twisted off.
Tuck was on his feet and on the man before he knew what hit him, the stupid ass hadn’t even noticed when Tuck had loosened the ropes around his wrists enough to slip them through. He ripped the gun from Cleve’s hand and belted him with it on his temple, bringing the big man down with the single blow.
While Cleve lay unconscious on the floor, Tuck collected everything he would need for the grand finale and positioned himself back in his hidey hole and waited.
*****
Tuck heard Steven enter and the smile returned to his face and no sooner had he heard Steven’s footsteps signaling he was headed in his direction, he pushed the refrigerator away from the wall and stood off to the side waiting for him to come into the room. He came walking in and in one swift move Tuck had knocked him out. When he awoke, Steven and Cleve were tied in chairs and gagged. Steven looked up and saw Tuck’s face, and knew he had problems if Tuck was reading the expression on his face correctly. He started trying to talk with his mouth gagged and Tuck looked over at Cleve who was still unconscious, then walked over, threw water in his face, and woke him up.
Cleve shook his head, looked around and spotted Steven, his eyes widen and just as quick went back to normal. Yeah he too realized they were in some shit. Tuck had only left the man alive for his own amusement of seeing the looks on their faces when they realized they were both busted.
When Tuck pulled the gag off Cleve’s mouth, the first words that came out were, "You sonofabitch.”
Tuck looked at him and said, "Yeah, go to Hell.” As he said the words, he stuck his knife in Cleve’s neck and twisted it. He died instantly. Then he went over to Steven. By then, Steven was pissed. Tuck removed his gag. "Steven, just tell me why?”
Steven said, "Everything, you had everything and I had nothing. Even over there in that hellhole, they sent you to a great unit. Me, I got stuck in the dregs, mister perfect soldier, everything was about you. Do you know what they did to me? I was captured for six fucking weeks, tortured, and all the while, all I heard was Ghost, who was The Ghost. Fuck, brother, even then, you were perfect. Bill and his team rescued me, brought me back, all fucked up and what did I hear, they wanted to recruit you. Fucking bastards, you, everything was always about you. Well I showed them, killed the fucking leaders of the organization and took over. Jack Tucker Jr., the pride of the fucking Army was coming home, so I figured I needed to show you how it felt, being brought low.”
“But my parents? And Elizabeth, why them?” Tuck snarled.
Steven shrugged and said, "They made you, they fed your ego. They deserved everything they got. And you, well you just wouldn’t fucking die, man, no matter how hard I tried. You are good.”
"You seemed to fare pretty well after getting out, why didn’t you just leave? Did you hate me that much?”
Steven replied, "Fuck yeah.”
Tuck pulled up a chair, sat down in front of Steven. "You've never changed, have you? Ever since we were kids, I have always done all the thinking, the planning, and the work, and all you did was stand back to reap the benefits from it. When we wanted motorcycles, I was the one that went out and figured out a way to get them. After I found the way, you stood by and let me do most of the work to get them, and then again to get them running. After all that, you had to have the nicest and the fastest bike. Then, all those nights you stayed at my house, I always noticed how you had to have the softest pillows and the warmest blankets. And when you ate dinner at my house, you never felt bad about getting the last piece of chicken or the rest of the pie. It's always been what was best and easiest for you, Steven. I tolerated all of it because I thought you were my friend. After all this time, we find out that you were never a real friend. You were only out for yourself, and that's all you've ever been concerned with.”
Steven said, "If you kill me, you'll never get away with it. I am bigger than you will ever be.”
"Steven, I'm not the one doing this, you are. Remember, I'm “The Ghost”. The way I see it, you killed Cleve, then you took your own life right after you lit a match to this place.” Then, with some sorrow and a few regrets, Tuck stood, pulled out the pistol he took from Cleve, put it to Steven’s temple, and said, “Goodbye, old friend.” He pulled the trigger, wiped his prints off the gun, and then put it in Steven’s hand.
After that, he went out to the shop and took the plates off a bike, and put them on another bike, so the plates would show as being Steven’s, and looked as if it had burned in the fire. Then, he took all the gasoline he could find and poured it all through the building. Finally, he lit a candle and set it in the floor in the middle of the room where Steven and Cleve were.
He walked out, started his bike, and rode out, when he got to the corner, he turned and made a block and pulled in front of the coffee shop. After about twenty minutes or so, a loud explosion occurred across the street. Everybody in the coffee shop jumped up and ran outside to watch the horrific fire. Satisfied, Tuck got on his bike and left Steven behind forever. His next stop would be the warehouse, where him and his boys were going to meet.
About a week later, Tuck made it to the old warehouse. It didn't look as if it had been touched since he left, but then again why would it. Everyone was coming home. As he wandered through the shop, he remembered everything he built there. They were all good men everyone who he now called brother, none of them would turn on him like Steven had. They were his friends, his fa
mily, they were everything now.
But he also knew that if it would have been him that died, he would have expected them to carry on with the Club and the organization. Tuck sat on the frame of his bike that waited for him and he remembered the days he stood in Bill’s garage building the bike, and how proud he was when he was finished with it. He could have been sad, and maybe should have been sad, but Tuck saw it as a sign of new beginnings, and a means to start over again.
"We still have our connections all over the Country and it's not over unless we want it to be over,” Boots had said, Tuck grinned and started his bike.
Tuck was hoping he was right about that, because he wasn't ready for it to be over. He left a note for his men and looked at the room, yeah, it wasn’t over yet.
When Tuck got to town, he walked into a car dealership, bought a brand new pickup, and drove it off the lot. The dealership loaded the bike on his truck and he headed for Oklahoma. He had to visit a particular post office and see if there was an envelope for him in a particular post office box. If there were, he would know that Glory wanted him to come. If there wasn't, then he would go back to his men and rebuild his life without Glory. But he had to find out which way it would go before he could go on.
A couple of days later, Tuck made it to the post office, he looked through the miscellaneous mail and then he found it. A letter addressed to him with a return address in the small town, miles away. He pulled into the area six hours later and looked for the address. She’d found a nice house on the water. He was halfway up the sidewalk when the front door swung open and she rushed out.
"Well, it's not exactly on a lake, but it's on the water. How do you feel about the ocean?”
"I think it's great. I love it.”
Glory grabbed Tuck and gave him a big hug. "Welcome home.”
“It’s good to be home. So where’s Boots?”
"He's down there fishing. Since he's been here, all he's been doing is fishing. He's been worried about you too.”
"Well let's go surprise him.”
They walked out back, and Boots saw Tuck. He jumped up and ran over to welcome him back.
*****
Tuck had been back for a couple of days, and he mentioned to Boots and Glory his plans for the future.
"What about our place here?”
"We'll come back and stay a week or so every month. We won't be at the warehouse full time anymore. This is our home.”
Epilogue
A year later…
Tuck and Glory had gotten married and were very happy together. When they’d gone back, they’d rebuilt and gotten things going again. It took time, but everything fell in line. Even Boots who decided to stay close, picked his own replacement to take over the Chapter that he was to be over.
When everything had been said and done, Tuck had contacted his nephew and niece. He’d felt since he hadn’t known them before that maybe they wouldn’t want to meet. But Glory reminded him that family was everything and he contacted his now teenage niece and nephew and was working out getting to know them, giving him the feeling he still had a small piece of his sister even if only through them.
Tuck reorganized "The Death Merchants" and he had sixteen Chapters spread across all the States. He and Glory would spend a lot of time at their home and a lot of time riding, having fun, and enjoying life together. Tuck seemed to have finally found the peace he was wanting in life and was thankful. But even years later, when he and Glory were on the road riding to some new destination they had never been before, he couldn't help but think back about Steven, and everything he had said to him.
Tuck came to the conclusion… Revenge is an act of passion; vengeance of justice. Injuries are revenged; crimes are avenged. And that is exactly what he had done.
Books by Rory Flannigan
Stand Alones
Two Worlds Collide – A Biker’s Journey
Tuck’s Revenge
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Excerpt from Two Worlds Collide – A Biker’s Journey
By Rory Flannigan
I am putting all this in writing not because I lived a particularly splendid life, nor because I am proud of all the things I've done and feel the need that I should brag about them. I think I am mostly putting it down on paper to remember special things to me in my past, and all the things I've done and seen, which have made me the man I am today. And especially more importantly, all the people I've known who will be remembered after I'm gone.
Within this story, I will not use the names of any person, nor will I name any particular organization I was associated with in my life. Not because names aren't important, but only because most of the ones I knew have either passed on, or they probably wouldn't care to have their name associated with anything I tell you about. Within this book, I will tell you of people who were like family to me, and some of them who actually were. But others were just people I spent the majority of my life with, and over time they became like brothers and sisters to me.
I will tell you my view of who these people really were, and not the views, assumptions, and opinions of news media outlets looking to make a buck from sensationalizing a group of people. Nor the opinions of law enforcement that didn't know them, and never spent over a few minutes with any of them. However, they criticized and criminalized them to have an enemy to fight against.
Yes, I'm speaking of bikers and bike clubs. You know, the kind of bikers who have been demonized in movies, television, and newspapers since the 1930s. Those entities will always tell you only one side of the story in order to sensationalize and make money off nothing more than their opinion. But here I will tell you in as much detail as possible my version of who these people really are.
No, I don't expect to change many hearts and minds with what I tell you here. Though I am in hopes it will give those that read this a different perspective as to who and what we really are. Because face the facts…we have been around for over 80 years, and we haven't ever had the ability to take over the world or even cause any radical change to the world. Logically, how could we be all that we have been hyped-up to being?
So…before I get into the crux of the story, I guess I should begin where all stories begin—the birth of the subject. And since the subject of this story is myself, we shall begin there. However, I must first assure you that I have no remembrance of 1958, which was the year of my birth.
My earliest recollection of reality didn't come to me until about 1961. At three years old, and being born into a somewhat reclusive and scattered family, as far as I can recall I was a happy child. But at the age of three or four years old, how would I really know one way or the other since I had nothing else to compare it to at the time. It was possibly about the time of life when I realized I was different in some ways, compared to other kids my age. Most kids in my age group had a stable family life, and they lived at home with a mother and father, but I never had a concept of that, because the way things were when I was a child, my grandfather had played the role of the father figure in my life. While other kids saw it as odd, it was normal to me, or the only normal I knew at the time.
I was born to a single mother, because my father had decided to leave before I was born, and since it was his choice to do so, he seems to be pretty much irrelevant to any events in my life. I do have a recollection of him in the sense of when my mother and my grandparents talked about him, they referred to him as "Hardhead" or our "Sperm Donor". And the only connection we had to him was through his parents, who would show up once a year or so to visit my brother, not necessarily to visit me. From what I was told, they labored under the illusion that I possibly wasn't his kid, so they never claimed me as one of their grandchildren. I did meet my sperm donor for the first time when I was about thirty-four years old, and other than me looking somewhat like him, that was the extent of the connection with him. It seems I was unlucky enough to get his looks, but my brot
her was unlucky enough to get his piss poor attitude and mentality as a human being. I've never had any dealings with the man—I don't know him—and have no wishes to know him. Therefore, I have no feeling good or bad for him. He could die tomorrow, and I wouldn't shed a tear over his death.
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