One of the Warriors bolted for his bike, trying to make a clean get-a-way, nearly running Reaper over in his panic. Reaper spun his bike around and followed suit, leaving the rest of the men in a cloud of dust.
Watching the Warriors filter out from the building, lining up in a half-hazard style, reminded Sting of an 80’s movie, where the Greasers and the Socs line up to have an old school rumble. Hell, at this rate, he half expected Dallas from The Outsider’s to yell ‘Don’t you know that a rumble ain’t a rumble without me!’
One of the Warriors, Koi, who was sporting a brand-new Sergeant-at-Arms patch, had enough balls to speak first. “You got no business here, get the fuck out of Painted Rock.”
Wraith spit on the ground, stepping forward to meet Koi face to face. “We’re here for those cuts, Tonto. You got told a week ago if we see orange after seven days, it’d be open season. Well, I see a shit load of orange. So, here’s how this’ll work. You hand over the cuts, we ride off into the sunset.”
Sting was trying so hard not to snicker. Wraith had a way of putting things into perspective in a humorous way. Several of the Warriors looked as if they were contemplating the idea, looking between one another in silent question.
One of the Warriors from the back of the group called out, “Come on, Koi. Let’s just give them up and ride out of here. They out number us already.”
Wraith tilted his head back and let out a low whistle with some laughter mixed in. “Well,” he drew out, grimacing as he looked back to Koi. “I might’ve forgot to mention, since you’re late with surrendering the cuts and making us ride all the way out here, we’re going to need those bikes for all the trouble you caused. I’d suggest you drop the cuts and get walking.”
Sting noticed a slight motion toward the edge of the building, a Warrior reaching into his cut. Frowning, Sting pulled his gun clear of his holster and was lifting up to aim at the target.
Just as he was going to yell that there was a gun in the back-right corner, a shot rang out, flying over his head and hitting the Warrior right between the eyes.
Sting’s head snapped to the left to Frost blowing at the barrel of his gun. “Boom! Nice shot, Cherry.”
That kicked everything into a shit storm.
Warriors scattered in all directions; some to their bikes, some back into the clubhouse, and others into a brawl with the Rojas. It was exactly as Steel predicted. A couple of the bikes fired up, but with the exits blocked, there was nowhere for them to go.
Several Warriors shrugged out of their cuts and let them hit the ground. Their hands were up in the air, backing away from the melee occurring in the center of the parking lot.
Koi wasn’t so smart. As he tried to ram one of the bikes, T-Rex got two fist full of the man’s cut, and yanked him backward off his bike. The massive Sergeant-at-Arms threw Koi to the ground, then dropped on top of him with his knee, holding him there.
Sting caught a left hook, unable to pay much attention to others after that, while struggling with a second Warrior. It was a bitch getting tag teamed, but Sting could hold his own…or so he hoped. He yelped when he his hair was grabbed from behind, dragging him to the ground. Trying to wrestle himself free, while blocking punches from the front, he landed on the male who had a death grip on his hair.
Still swinging and cussing at the skull ripping pain of his hair being yanked out of his head, he now knew why women pulled hair when they fought. That shit hurt. After a few more punches back and forth, he managed to block a kick to the ribs right as Jet came to the rescue.
A flying tackle from his brother sent the Warrior to the ground, rolling with the bald-headed best friend. That freed Sting, now capable of fighting one on one with the bitch pulling his hair. Sting managed to somehow get turned over. Straddling the Warrior, he head butted him. Stunned, the Warrior lay there, unable to breathe as Sting broke his nose.
Sting raised his fist to let a nice elbow drop, but before he could move, another shot rang out, freezing everyone where they stood.
Steel’s deep voice was loud in the morning light. “Enough fucking around! Take off the cuts now and get walking. The next shot won’t be in the air.” He lowered the assault rifle he was holding at an upward angle.
Sting pushed up off the Warrior, just in time to see Wraith pull a gun on the male standing in front of him with his cut still on.
“You’ve got til the count of three to get that shit off, or I shoot.” He looked around to the three men with their cuts still on, proving his point.
The guy on the ground, next to Sting, scrambled to his feet, tossing his cut to the pile at Steel’s feet from the other club members.
“One.” Wraith looked directly at Koi, who was the only one left not taking his cut off. “Two.” He stared pointedly, a brow quirking with a slight tilt of Wraith’s head. “I don’t think he’s gonna take it off, brother.”
Steel nodded, his expression impassive. “He’s got some balls, I’ll give him that. Let’s be fair about this. We’ll do it old school. T-Rex fights him. He wins, he keeps his cut.”
Sting heard about the old way of sergeants fighting one another. That was the way many rival clubs solved problems back in the old days. He knew T-Rex lived to fight, and Koi had no chance of winning.
Wraith’s facial expression brightened as excitement shown through. “Hell yeah. It’s been a while since we got dirty with the old school ways. I need to visit more often if this is how you guys throw down.”
Besides the fact his head was on fire and he knew he was missing chunks of hair, and being double teamed, Sting kind of felt bad for Koi. He was thrown into his position a week ago, and now had to fight someone twice his size for his cut.
“No weapons. This is bare knuckles. So, if you got any, drop them now,” Steel ordered, sitting down on his bike seat. “You fight until you’re knocked out or tap out.”
T-Rex handed off his knife and gun to Frost, who stood closest to him. Patting down his cut, T-Rex nodded he was clear. Koi shrugged and shook his head. He had nothing.
“The rest of you need to get walking, I don’t know why you’re still here.” Steel looked over to the straggling few, who then bolted away from the building.
The two circled one another, though Sting gathered Koi was trying to find an avenue of escape. The fight didn’t last long. Two punches and a knee to the face put a swift end to the match. Koi was out cold on the asphalt.
T-Rex quickly removed Koi of his cut and tossed it to the pile.
Steel stood up, giving prompt commands, “Do like we planned, search and burn. Prospects! Get the bikes loaded.”
This kicked everyone into high gear, each brother having a duty to fulfill. Sting grabbed the flame accelerant as Steel stepped up to Wraith and Frost, who were right next to Sting at the pile of leather.
“Get Koi up and take him into the house,” Steel half asked, half ordered, the two Muerte brothers. “We need to dispose of him too.”
Sting glanced over to the three, unable to hide the confusion. Why were they going to kill Koi, after letting him fight for his cut?
Steel caught the look. With a slight shake of his head, he moved closer to Sting, talking under his breath. “Never leave an enemy behind, especially one with balls like Koi. He’ll come back and bite you.”
As smoke started to rise from the building, Sting threw the cuts into the clubhouse, spraying some of the lighter fluid just as Jet came out of the side door with Xander’s prospect cut on his arm.
Chapter 47
Crazy Train
Between the torridity of the rising sun, the heat rising from the asphalt, and the boiling steam from his engine, Sting wondered how his nuts were going to survive. He hated riding through downtown Shadow Falls. It was always stop, go; stop, go. His bike would always over heat, typical of Harley’s, really.
Finally, able to open up the throttle, the air-cooled engine simmered down, giving his poor testicles a chance to recuperate. The crew
was on their way back to H&T Trucking, where their clubhouse was located. No one knew who the owner was, but since half the crew worked there, and Steel managed the place, they were allowed to use the extra building, which they converted into a sweet ass bar slash clubhouse.
The company provided small one-bedroom style apartments for their employees, since they were on call and usually up at all hours, fixing any problem that should arise. That was where Sting was staying, and he wanted a shower like no one’s business. He wanted to wash off the day’s events in scalding hot water. Too bad he couldn’t bleach his brain from the horror stories of Reaper while he was at it.
The precession of bikes pulled onto the private road that’d lead them right into the parking lot of the transportation plant. Sting knew Durty would be there with the other women, waiting to see who returned, and who might’ve been hurt, or God help them, didn’t make it back at all. His heart skipped a beat at the thought of having someone waiting for him. Sting never really had someone who look forward to him coming home, actually happy to see him.
Throttling out, Sting slowed his bike down to a crawl, making the left-hand turn between the gated entry ways into the shipping yard. Moving the bike over to his designated area, he lowered the kick stand and turned off the bike just as the women came out of the clubhouse. He barely had time to get off the bike and his helmet removed before he was jumped on by Durty.
Wrapping his arms about her waist, Sting lifted her up, twisting his body side to side. “Did someone miss me?” Setting her down, he stepped back to look at her.
Durty’s eyes were searching him from head to toe, filled with worry. “Maybe.” She smiled, reaching up to run her fingers through his hair.
Sting couldn’t stop the wince when she hit the area that had no hair and was still painful. Hissing, he jerked his head back, grabbing her hand to keep from reaching it again. “Let’s not do that.”
Her face fell, jerking her hand back, her voice a mixture of hurt and concern. “What happened?”
“I’ll be okay, I promise. Fucker grabbed my hair and wouldn’t let go.” He smiled in reassurance, not needing her to fret over hair. It’d grow back.
Glancing around at the others, he grasped Durty’s hand, leading her to where Steel, Wraith, Frost and Jet were. “Did anyone see where Reaper went?”
Wraith waved his hand in the air, rolling his eyes. “He’ll come wandering back in when he gets the job done.”
Sting moved to the side as Lace entered into their circle, giving Wraith and Frost hugs. “Long times, guys.”
“Looking good for these sore eyes, Lace. When you gonna hop on and ride bitch with me?” Wraith bounced his brows in a teasing jest.
“The last time we rode together, Wraith, you were so far behind me, I almost mailed you an airplane ticket to catch up.” Lace smiled brightly, tapping her Wide-Open patch with a wiggle of her brows. She moved closer to Steel, her eyes roaming over him. “You okay?”
Steel grunted with a nonchalant movement of his shoulders. “Other than my ribs killing me? Everything went to plan.”
“I told you to take it easy and have─”
Steel glared at her from under his brows. “Ride in the chase vehicle with the prospects? You’re dreaming.”
Jet piped in, “We got all the cuts but one. Even Xander’s. How many bikes we get, Sting?”
Sting looked over to the prospects unloading them, doing a quick count. “Looks like seventeen bikes.”
A rumbling sound echoed through the yard, causing all heads to turn. A lone bike was in the distance, with a plume of dust fanning out behind it.
Wraith snickered, correcting Jet as he pulled on his two braids. “Here comes that last cut.”
Reaper rolled into the yard and came to a stop a little ways from the circle. Pulling off his helmet and face mask, a true grin formed as he prowled over to them. “Hey, girlie.”
Lace let out an excited yip of glee, calling with enthusiasm, “Reaper!” She darted toward him, throwing her arms around his neck. “Rev didn’t tell me you were coming!”
Reaper hugged her tightly, and spoke when he let her go. “I’ve got some clean up I’ve got to do, so I came along for the ride.” He moved a step away from her, and laughed in a low tone. In a deafening whisper, he said, “I’ve got a present for you.” He opened the Warrior cut, soaked in blood, and revealed a human heart. He brandished it proudly, like a cat giving a mouse to its master.
Lace took the heart with a thank you, and then tossed it at Wraith. “He brought you dinner.”
It squished into Wraith’s cut, the sickening squish of blood hitting leather was enough to curdle Sting’s empty stomach.
“Damn it, woman,” Wraith cried out, trying to juggle the bouncing heart, before it hit the ground. “You just got blood all over me.”
“You’re just jealous Reaper got bloody, and you didn’t.”
Sting shook his head, not expecting this side of Lace. She was like a completely different person with the Muerte around, especially Reaper. He was shocked this so-called bringer of death had a soft side, let alone, joking with them. There had to have been some sort of past with the bond he was witnessing.
Glancing over to Steel, Sting could see the underline seething anger laying there. His jaw clenched before he spoke, “Lace, split the bikes however you see fit. I’m going to go get a truck ready. Sting, get your prospect over to truck fifteen.”
Sting nodded, but noticed the motion for him to follow. Kissing Durty on the top of her head, he murmured he’d be right back. Jogging after Steel, he returned to a walk when he got beside his president. “Why are you running off so fast?”
Steel looked at Sting from the corner of his eye. “I got shit to do and my ribs are killing me. I don’t have time to sit around and bullshit all day.”
Rounding the corner toward the trucks, Sting shook his head. “I know you better than that, bro. You were fine up until Reaper showed up.”
Steel came to a stop, turning to face him. His expression guarded, placing his hands on his hips. “Just what are you getting at?”
He knew this had to do with Lace and Sting had been put in his place before over the subject. Swallowing, he licked the corner of his mouth before he answered. “Hey boss, if my girl ran up and hugged another dude like that, I’d be pissed too.” Sting mentally kicked his own ass. Shit, that wasn’t supposed to come out that way. Waiting for the backlash he figured was coming, he gritted his teeth and squinted his eyes, knowing whatever happened next, he surely deserved it.
“Have you ever been fucked in the ass?”
Sting did a double take, his ass clenching in reflex. “Huh? What?” He couldn’t help but stutter, “W-w-wouldn’t punching me be more appropriate?”
Steel sighed, hanging his head. “You see her hugging him, I see a hundred and seventy thousand dollars in bikes being split three ways. We’re a support club, you know this. Who do you think is going to get first dibs? You want to choose a bike? You’d be better off going back and getting the tricycle off of Vader’s front porch at this point.”
The mother club always got what they wanted, whether it be jobs, kickbacks from club functions, or just being something they wanted. Then, the next club got their dues, so on and so forth. The Rojas were bottom men on the totem pole, now that Revelations patched over.
Steel continued his rant, “You see why I’m upset? Don’t necessarily like it, but that’s how the cookie crumbles. We need to get these bikes loaded and ready to send to Vegas for their number jobs. Can you do that?”
“I’m all over it.” Sting nodded as Steel walked away toward his office, his arm wrapped about his ribs. Frowning, Sting knew there was more to it than just the loss he was taking, he hadn’t seen Steel this upset before, but he wasn’t dumb enough to push his brother. Shit rolls downhill, and he knew the shit just hit him and he wasn’t about to drop the ball on this.
Walking back over to the group, he nudg
ed Durty before he asked, “Who wants what bike?”
Durty looked at Sting, furrowing her brows. “You alright?”
He cleared his throat. “Yeah, head hurts and I’m ready to shower.” He leaned over to Butcher, who was now in charge. “Boss wants the bikes taken care of and cleared out of here.”
Wraith lifted his chin, motioning toward a Dyna. “I want that bike.”
Lace looked over her shoulder toward the cluster of bikes. “I need two right now. They can do their own refurbishing. Then I need one for my prospect.”
Wraith grinned, holding up his hands out in front of him. “Ladies first, take your pick.”
Lace picked out the three she liked, but Reaper silently moved over next to her, and pointed at a beautiful purple chameleon painted Road King. “That screams you. Take it.” He glanced over his shoulder, the dead eyes staring directly at Butcher. “She can have mine.”
Sting grabbed out his small notebook from his cut, and started scribbling down names associated to bikes, though he paused at Reaper’s demand, glancing to Butcher. Butcher nodded in agreement. Yeah, he was so not putting Lace’s name on that bike for Steel to see. Reaper’s name would go on that bike. If he wanted her to have it, he could bring it or send it himself.
Wraith got the Dyna he wanted. Frost declined, in love with his bike. Sting was pretty sure he Frost said something about being in love with her tail pipe. That man had a strange sense of humor. That left twelve bikes to divide up.
“Hold on, brother,” Wraith requested of Sting, pulling out his cell, lifting it to his ear. “Yo, boss. Was’sup? Nah, we good.” Pause. “Yeah, she’s here, feisty as ever.” Another pause. “Nope, he left. Yeah, think so.” Wraith nodded. “Are you going to want any of the spoils? Ehhh, just bikes. Twelve, not too bad.” He listened for a moment, and then cackled, eyes flicking over to Reaper and Lace talking amongst themselves, “Alright, see you on the flip side.” Hanging up, he turned his head to grin at Butcher. “We’re good, man, you guys do want you want with the rest. We’ll escort the precious cargo back home.”
Policy of Truth (Sacred Heart Continuum Series Book 1) Page 31
