Axl eyed Vargas warily. "He left me no choice."
Vargas looked hard at Axl, and then smiled his creepy smile. "Just shittin' you. We good, Archer." He laughed and clapped Axl on the shoulder. "Hell of a show." He turned to a couple of his guys behind him. "Clean that shit up."
Axl hurried over to me and pulled the gag out of my mouth before pulling me off the ground. He pulled out his own knife and cut the ties around my hands.
"Axl," I said in relief, "It's finally over." I didn't have a doubt left in the world that this man would do anything it took—absolutely anything—to protect me and the baby.
"Almost," he said, pulling away from my embrace. "There's one more thing."
He looked down at Dash.
41
Axl
"Axl, man, what are you doing?" Dash whined. He struggled, his hands cuffed behind him around a thick metal pipe. The metal-on-metal clanging echoed through the abandoned warehouse. The only other sounds were our breathing and the faint whistle of wind moving through cracked windows and walls. The heat inside the warehouse was sweltering, the air static and unmoving.
"Shut up," I said, staring into his eyes. "You sound fucking pathetic."
On my orders, the Reapers had loaded Dash into their chase van and brought us back down the road to the warehouse. There was no sign of the other Sons or the Russians. They'd probably seen Lynch and Dash fall into the Reaper trap and split. That was cool with me. I didn't want to fucking go up against any more Sons. I wished no ill toward Ryker and the rest of them.
It was just me and Dash in here. Lynch was fucking history. And now it was time to finish the job. Time to administer payback for the near-lethal beating and betrayal I'd gotten.
It was time for justice.
"Come on, man," said Dash, his voice sounding increasingly urgent and pathetic. "It was just business, man. You know what happens to guys who betray the club."
I snarled out loud and spit in his face. "The only one of us who betrayed this club is you," I said. "You wanna get a man out? Fucking Mayhem vote. Then finish 'em off honorably. Don't fucking bash 'em on the head and leave 'em to die. Goddamn fool."
"Ryker never woulda gone for a Mayhem vote on you. You've always been his favorite. We were just protecting the club, man."
"Then the Sons have lost their way," I said. "I saw that the instant Ryker was willing to sacrifice Holly for convenience. Fuck the charter, right? Forget "No innocents die," right?"
"It's complicated—" began Dash, but I cut him off.
"It's the simplest fucking thing in the world," I said. "It's only complicated for weasel fuckers like you who try to rationalize everything."
"What're you gonna do?" asked Dash. Beads of sweat ran down his forehead. There were white streaks where past droplets had dried, leaving behind only salt.
That's what I wanted to happen to Dash. For him to disappear, leaving nothing more than a trail of white powder.
I sighed, stepping backwards from him. I pulled my Glock out of its holster, hitting the mag release with my thumb. The empty magazine slid out of the gun and fell to the concrete floor with a thud. I reached around and pulled a fresh mag from my belt, loading the gun and racking the slide back. Dash's eyes followed the gun, in fear and desperation.
"Sean," I said, using Dash's real name, "You remember when I first joined the Sons?"
He gulped and nodded.
"Remember how you always had my back? How you showed me the ropes?"
He nodded again.
"And how when I patched in, we cut our palms and mixed our blood that day? We were supposed to become blood brothers."
He started to speak, but I silenced him with a wave of the gun. "Don't fucking tell me this is just business," I said. "All my life, I bounced from place to place. Never fit in anywhere, 'til it came to this club. And this's how it ends. Attempted murder by my own brother."
Dash just looked down at his feet. He seemed to sag down, his legs giving up. "Make it quick," he said.
I raised my Glock in the air, and lined up the sights with his forehead. I put my finger on the trigger and began to squeeze, feeling the trigger spring reaching the point of no return.
In my mind, I saw Holly's face. She was waiting for me outside the warehouse. One jerk of my finger and this would all be over with, and we'd leave this shit life for something better.
I imagined what she'd think if she were on the other side of the wall, in here with me.
I thought about what she'd said about the cycle of violence in the club. How one violent act inevitably lead to another… and another… and another.
I thought of all the faces of the men I'd killed. 12 in total. I never forgot a single one of their faces.
And I thought about the baby growing inside Holly. A new life, a new hope for something better than the past. How I wanted a different life for that baby than what I'd had myself.
I felt the trigger begin to break under my finger… and then I stopped. I relaxed my finger and brought the gun down to my side.
Dash looked at me. "The fuck you waiting' for? Do it already!"
I looked and him and shook my head with contempt. But mixed with that contempt, there was forgiveness, something that I hadn't felt for a long time.
I jammed the Glock into my belt and walked up to him. I pulled the key to his handcuffs out of my pocket and freed him from the pipe.
He rubbed his wrists and eyed me suspiciously. "The fuck are you doing?"
I motioned with my head toward a pile of wooden crates in the corner of the warehouse. "Get the fuck over there," I said, "and don't come out until we're all far away from here."
"Why are you doing this?" asked Dash.
"Because," I said, "You ain't worth the fuckin' bullet it'd take to kill you. I don't ever want to hear from you again. Never come anywhere near me or my family. Don't even fuckin' think about me. I ever see your ugly face again, you die."
I waited for Dash to slink off into the corner of the warehouse. He sat behind a wooden crate, looking at the wall. He didn't turn around.
Satisfied that he wouldn't ambush me again, I walked out of the warehouse, and into the sunlight.
42
Holly
When Axl emerged from the warehouse, the Reapers honored their truce with Axl. "Archer," said Vargas, "You fucking burn that tape into ashes, understand me?" Axl nodded. "Done."
We went our separate ways, the Reapers most likely heading to plot their next move against the Sons in their turf war, now that the Sons had lost their main general. The Sons had a chink in their armor now, and the Reapers would drill into it ruthlessly like they always did, trying to get to the soft meat underneath. As I knew now, any weakness was a sign to attack.
In this lifestyle, the shit never ended. But I knew now how strong its pull was. How this life sucked you in like quicksand, every path seeming to lead back to violence. Once you got sucked in, everything changed. Your choices were no longer your own; they were dictated by your enemies. You had to respond with strength, with resolve… with violence. If you didn't, you were dead.
I used to wonder why people couldn't work out their differences peacefully. My time in the club lifestyle taught me why—because violence only causes more violence. And I used to think that Axl was the one who truly had freedom out here on his bike. But the truth was, he didn't really have any freedom at all. Not until he walked away from the club.
As we rode away from the warehouse, I asked Axl, "What did you do to Dash?"
He just replied, "We won't be hearing from him again." I didn't press him further.
That day, we said goodbye to Arizona forever. Axl never got his old bike back from the Sons, so the first thing we did when we left the NOMAD compound was hit a bike dealership.
We stood looking at the rows of cruisers and hogs, and I saw the excitement in Axl's eyes as he contemplated a new bike. One of my hands held his, and the other I held against my belly as we walked through the rows of bikes. The su
n was beginning to go down, the sweltering heat giving way to a cool breeze.
Axl surprised me at the bike dealership. I thought for sure he would call the salesman over and say, "that one," pointing to one of the many Harleys, and we'd be on our way. But instead, after admiring them, he took me to the touring bikes.
"What do you think of this one?" he said, pointing to a big Honda touring bike. It was big, lumbering, and most of all, not dangerous looking at all. It had huge, wide seats, and big fairings to keep the wind off and make even the longest rides comfortable.
It was the kind of bike suitable for a growing family.
"I love it," I said, reaching up to plant a kiss on his lips. "But you're only allowed to ride this one on the weekends," I said, "at least until the baby comes. A bike is no place for a pregnant lady."
Axl grumbled to himself. "Bitches these days," he said to himself.
I punched him on the arm. "You're a real asshole."
Finally, a salesman came over to help us. A young guy, who honestly looked too clean-cut to be involved with motorcycles. But, I guessed that most of the dealership's customers were just old guys who drove four-door sedans to work every day, and took out their bikes on the weekends. A nice, clean-cut young guy like him was exactly the salesman they needed. A younger version of themselves.
"Sir, ridden one before?"
Axl glanced at me and we both grinned. "Yeah."
"Great, and do you have a motorcycle endorsement on your license?"
Axl nodded. "I do."
The salesman's face lit up. "In that case, you're welcome to take any of 'em for a spin. Insurance covers it!" Then he added, looking at Axl's inked arms, "Man, you sure could pass for a biker."
Axl laughed. "Maybe in another life," he said. He was joking with the guy, but I knew exactly what he meant.
"I don't need a test drive," he said. "That's the one I want."
The salesman looked surprised but didn't argue. "You got it, sir. Let's step into my office to discuss financing options."
Axl waved his hand. "I'll pay cash."
I guess that was one of the… lingering benefits of Axl's time in the club. We had all the cash we'd ever need.
We signed a contract for the bike and bought new riding gear and helmets at the apparel shop. Axl looked at the sporty red nylon jackets, and almost took one off the rack. "Nah," he said, changing his mind. "Not ready for that bullshit." He walked over to the leather section and picked up a handsome-looking black leather jacket, albeit one that was not covered in motorcycle gang patches. He grinned at me.
We rode away from the dealership, heading east on the highway until the sun set. Axl took us to a hotel—this time, one that had free cookies and coffee in the lobby instead of a grumpy old man behind bulletproof glass.
Once we were in the room, we laid down on the bed, exhausted. I rested my head on his chest, and he ran his fingertips over my back lightly.
"So where to?" he asked me.
"I want you to pick," I said, looking up at him.
"Always wanted to go to Texas," he said.
"Then Texas it is," I replied. "Can I bring my parents up there once in a while?"
"Of course," he said.
"And college?"
"I'll cover whatever you need to finish your degree."
I sighed. It was nice to be taken care of. I ran a hand up his stomach, feeling the rock-hard muscles underneath. I felt like I'd gone into hell's den, and come out the other side alive and stronger.
"Baby," I said, "I love you."
He grinned. "I don't know if I've ever said those words before. But," he paused, "I love you too."
"Baby," I said, "Make love to me."
And he did.
43
Axl
When we said our vows to each other six months later, she looked so damn beautiful standing there in her dress. I always thought I was the hottest shit in the room, but after seeing her like that, I had to stop and wonder if I was handsome enough for her.
We brought her parents out for the wedding. Her dad went fucking nuts the first time he heard the news, but when he and I sat down for a man-to-man, and I told him about the new oil business I was goin' into, he warmed up to me real fast. Good guy, too. Gonna make a great grandad.
Hell, even Ryker and I settled up our differences and he came on out. I guess some ties are stronger than blood. Big Mikey came too. Those two were the closest I ever had to a family, until I met Holly.
We found out that the baby's gonna be a boy. Didn't fuckin' dare say so, but goddamn was I relieved to hear that. Me raise a little girl? Jesus. I'd have a fuckin' coronary every time she left the house.
Speaking of houses. I got us a real nice place out by the panhandle. Similar enough to Arizona to feel like home, but far enough away to let bygones be bygones. It was a real big place, up on a hill by itself, with iron bars like the devil's claws. I ain't gonna hurt another man as long as I live… if I can help it. But should the day ever come, that someone comes lookin' for me, god help me, I will light that fucker up the instant he steps onto my property. I would kill again, but only for my girl and my boy.
I used to think I was the smartest motherfucker in the room. And well, that hasn't changed a damn bit. These oil execs I've been dealing with are easy pickings. They ain't got the toughness I do. But Holly taught me somethin' I dunno if I'd ever have figured out on my own. To respect life and to rise above. In the club life, everybody is down in the shit and there ain't no such thing as rising out of it. But on the outside, the sky's a little bluer, the birds a little cheerier.
I want a good life for my son. Not like the bullshit I went through. He can ride a bike when he's 18, yeah, but he'll wear a helmet and leathers. Not a skull cap, either, but one of those goofy fuckin' full-head cop helmets. On second thought… fuck that. My boy can ride fast and hard, 'cause he'll have the smarts and the reflexes to stay safe out there. Like me.
And as for Holly… shit. She's gettin' so big I swear she's gonna pop any minute, though the doc says it won't be for another few months. I just can't get enough of her. Her smell, her taste, her beautiful personality. Hard to fuckin' believe it all started out in the Coppertail junkyard. Thought I was gonna score with some hard cash back there, but what I ended up with was beyond my wildest dreams.
I heard through the grapevine that shit calmed down between the Sons and the Reapers. For now. I know how it is. Shit'll flare up again, and then blow over again, and on, and on, and on. That's how it works. How it always has, and how it always will.
So now I've got the money, the success, the woman, the looks, and a kid on the way. Posted up in the biggest state in the Union, with the biggest cock in the union. I can't wait to see what the future holds, 'cause I know it's gonna be bright for me. I got everything I need right here surrounding me, and I ain't ever gonna let 'em go.
Not on my life.
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Havok: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance Page 31
