“Maybe you’re right.” Cruz looked around for second, then said, “Given what just happened, do me a favor, stop treating me like something you found in the garbage. If I’m going to stick around, I’d rather not have to deal with your attitude for the rest of my life.”
“Can you not be a total jackass?”
“Wow. You just don’t know how to say thanks, do you?” He grabbed a beer from the fridge and popped the cap with an opener on his keyring. “I’m just asking for a little decency.”
“Were you willing to give decency when you stole food? Or robbed that gas station?”
“Hypocritical much? Your boyfriend is the leader of a criminal organization and you’re jumping up my ass about stealing a few bucks and lousy sandwich? It was a dick move, sure, but I was going to starve if I didn’t do what I did. I’m a survivor and I don’t make excuses for how I live my life. Not to anyone. I sure as shit don’t make them to you.”
Danni grabbed a beer for herself. She looked around for an opener but couldn’t find one. Cruz grabbed her bottle, used his keyring opener, and handed the beer back to her.
“Wow,” he said. “Did I actually shut you up?”
Danni drank her beer and said, “Thanks. For everything. How about we wipe the slate clean? Start fresh right here.”
“Deal.”
Mercer, Doc, and Red came back in. There was a pause when they saw Cruz in the clubhouse.
“Didn’t think we’d be seeing you again,” said Mercer.
“Didn’t think you would either, but we need to tell you something.”
Danni and Cruz explained what happened. When they were finished, Mercer slammed his fist on the table.
“They’re fucking dead. Everyone mount up, we’re dealing with these assholes right now.”
“Fuck yeah, let’s do this,” enthused Red.
Doc stuck his hand out. “Hang on just a second. We need to think this through.”
“No way,” said Red. “They just attacked one of our own. We need to hit them now. Show them they can’t push us around.”
Doc turned to Danni. “You OK, Darlin’?” Danni nodded. “Then this could’ve been much worse. Much, much worse. We can’t just go in there hot-headed.”
“The hell we can’t,” said Mercer.
“They attacked the woman I love. I’m not sitting here and letting them get away with that.”
“Kid, it sounds like she already paid them back and then some for what they did. They have ten guys. We have four. They have automatic weapons. We have a few pistols. If we run off half-cocked, we’re likely to get killed.”
Mercer rubbed the bridge of his nose, then ran his fingers through his hair. “Yeah, you’re right. Let’s start hearing alternate plans.”
“This is bullshit,” said Red.
“Your opinion’s been heard. Now sit down and shut the fuck up,” snapped Mercer.
Red’s face became as red as his hair. “You said we’d always have a voice in this gang. Maybe we should take a vote.”
“This isn’t something we vote on. This is personal.” Mercer said.
Cruz said, “This isn’t personal. This was a calculated move, meant to get us running blind, just like Doc said. The Rattlers want us out of the way and it would easy if we ran in their without enough men or weapons. We have to be smarter than this.”
Mercer nodded and gave Cruz a curious look. Danni noticed it, but didn’t say anything.
“What do you suggest then?” Mercer asked Cruz.
Cruz took off his jacket and sat down. The clubhouse still wasn’t the most comfortable place in the world, but it was getting better every day.
“You know I used to run with this crew out of San Clemente?”
“That was Mad Dog’s crew, right?” said Doc.
Cruz nodded. “That’s right. Mad Dog Fernandez. Doc probably knows this, but they called him Mad Dog because he would lay into somebody and never let go. He had a wild streak in him that you wouldn’t believe. He’d go on tears for days, drinkin’ and screwin’ his way from the coast to Riverside. I never saw anything like it.”
“What the hell is your point?” said Mercer.
Cruz’s eyes narrowed, but instead of rising to the challenge, he kept on with his story.
“Like I said, they called him Mad Dog because he would lay into someone and never stop until they were dead or run out of town. But the crazy part is, he almost never laid a hand on anybody. Didn’t have to. See Mad Dog knew that if a war dragged on, it just cost everybody. You might win, but if you don’t have anything left, then you’re wide open to the next crew that comes along.”
“So you’re saying wait until we have enough men and firepower?”
“Wait to destroy them until we have enough men and firepower, but hit them where it hurts now. They have same weakness everyone else does. Money. We need to take it from them.”
“That was pretty good thinking from Cruz,” said Danni.
Mercer swallowed his drink. “Yeah, it’s not bad.”
There were sitting at a table in the corner of the bar where Danni worked. It was a slow day and the manager said she could take lunch break with Mercer as long as she kept an eye on the place, which wasn’t hard to do with no one else in there.
Still, she was nervous. Her eyes kept darting to the door whenever she heard a noise. She had gotten over the attack the day before, but she was worried the Rattlers might come in when she was working and make trouble. Dealing with them was one thing, but losing her job was unacceptable. She almost asked Mercer not to stop in, fearing they would follow him in, but she didn’t want to live in fear. And she wanted to see Mercer.
“I’m kind of surprised to hear you say that,” said Mercer. “‘You’re not his biggest fan.”
Danni shrugged. “He came through for me yesterday. Guess it made me warm up to him a little.”
“Yeah, I’m glad he was there. But I still want to know what game he’s playing.”
“What do you mean?”
“There are things not adding up about him. He tells stories that don’t match. Like yesterday. He said he ran with Mad Dog’s crew, but when we first met, he said he was in the Vipers for a while. No way the San Clemente crew would allow in a guy who used to be with the Vipers. Not only that, if he’s really been with as many crews as he says, the guy’s got no loyalty.”
“He proved that when he stormed out the other night. What’re you thinking?”
“Don’t know yet. But the way he’s acting… he could be an undercover cop or even a Rattler spy.”
“Then get rid of him,” said Danni. “You don’t trust him, then kick him out.”
The front door opened and Danni’s heart skipped a beat, but calmed down when she saw it was some regulars. Old guys, long retired, who started drinking at noon. She got up and poured them each a shot and a beer, then got their order in.
Back at the table Danni, sat down. “Sorry. What were you saying?”
“Just that Cruz is a mystery. Yeah, I thought about getting rid of him, that he’s not trustworthy, but if he really was a Rattler spy, he wouldn’t have argued about waiting to attack. He would have wanted to jump right in, because he and Doc were right. They could wipe us out if we tried something now.”
“Then maybe he’s a cop?”
“Maybe. But he and Doc go back years. Undercover cops don’t stay down that long. They’re undercover for a couple of months, get the evidence they need, and make arrests. And if he was a cop, then he’d be trying to get in with the Rattlers. Wouldn’t make any sense to be with us. Not right now, not until we’re up on our feet again.”
The men at the bar shouted for more drinks and Danni got up to serve them. Mercer drained his beer and waved goodbye to Danni as he went out the door. He fired up his bike and tore off down the street, making sure to roar by the police station. He may not be allowed to wear his cut inside city limits, but there was no law against riding, and he wanted to show them he wasn’t afraid.
Mercer thought about Cruz. All the things he’d said to Danni were true. He was a mystery that didn’t add up, but he had good points too. There were two reasons Mercer just didn’t send him packing. The first was that they simply needed men. Black Ice couldn’t run with just Mercer and Doc. Hell, they needed a lot more men than what they had, but for the time being, they had four and they needed them all. The second, and most important reason, was that Doc vouched for the guy. Mercer hadn’t known Cruz long, but Doc had known him for years, and if Doc trusted Cruz, and Mercer trusted Doc, then Mercer had no choice but to trust Cruz. That was life in an MC. You might not like the guys standing next to you, but you sure as hell had to trust him.
Mercer came to a stop at a red light. He was there for no more than twenty seconds when he heard the unmistakable sound of motorcycles approaching. The Rattlers pulled around him. It must have been the full MC. There were three guys to his right, three to his left, and four behind him. Mercer sat motionless while they revved their engines in an attempt to intimidate him.
Mercer remained fearless. He had faced down much worse than this. He had faced down Tank at his very worst. These Rattlers were nothing more than a bunch of punks that needed to be taught a lesson.
The light turned green, and Mercer squealed his tires and took off quick. Not out of fear, but to give them a chase. Mercer was a damn good rider and he knew this town well. He wanted to show them what a real rider could do.
He took the first curve going fast, pushing his weight against the bike to balance. There were buildings on either side, the street barely bigger than an alley. He knew if the Rattlers wanted to keep up, they’d have to cut the curve fast, and he doubted all of them could keep up.
He was right. Two of them wiped out, crashing loudly into garbage cans and other things lining the streets. As soon as the road straightened out, he hit the gas and took off like a rocket. The other eight were close behind him. He knew the road up ahead was in the middle of being paved, so as soon as he approached the rough undercoating of the street, he slammed on the brakes, his big bike making a tremendous squeal. Two more Rattlers hit the rough pavement and their bikes went down. They were going too fast and skidded off through the paving machinery. One of them smacked his head against a bulldozer. It didn’t look like he was ever getting up again. Mercer thought of his friend Specs, but quickly cleared him mind. He hit the gas again, but this time heading in a different direction.
That was four Rattlers down and six to go. The odds still weren’t in his favor, but he was bound and determined to win. It was who he was. As he told Danni, he was a survivor, and this wasn’t going to be the end of him.
He tore through past the small houses in Rawlins’ poorer area. Small children looked on in amazement as he flew down their street going eighty miles an hour. Soon, the rival gang was behind him again. Suddenly, a basketball flew into the street in front of Mercer and he hit the brakes hard as a dark haired kid chased after the ball without once checking for traffic. It was all Mercer could do to keep the bike on two wheels and avoid the child. He hit the sides of cars, taking off side view mirrors as he went.
Mercer balanced the bike, but avoiding the kid had cost him his lead. He was surrounded by the six remaining Rattlers. One swerved into him, causing him to hit another car. Nothing Mercer could do would keep the bike upright, so he laid it down in a controlled slide. The Rattlers circled him and got off their bikes.
“You ain’t walking out here alive, homes,” said Fixer. “We were just going to teach you a lesson, but after that shit, we gonna put you in the ground.”
“Bring it,” said Mercer.
He grabbed one of the Rattlers and kneed him between the legs, knowing full well there was no way out. They had him six to one. His only hope was to take a few down with him. He pushed the man into another and they both fell. Mercer swung his leg high and planted his thick motorcycle boot into Fixer’s stomach. He howled in pain, but somehow managed to grab Mercer’s leg and hold tight.
Another Rattler, a large bearded man with a shiny bald head, came in close with a knife. He slashed Mercer’s side. His leather jacket caught most of the blade, but he still took a long cut along his rib cage. The knife came at him again. As Mercer held up his arm to block the attack, the man sliced his forearm. He fell back to the pavement, his head landing on his bike. Immediately, the remaining Rattlers jumped in to pin him down. Not that Mercer had much fight left in him, anyway.
“Welcome to the end, Mercer,” smirked Fixer. “Should’ve left town like you were told.” He turned to the bald man with the knife. “Smitty, cut this fucker to ribbons.”
Smitty held the knife deftly and got in close. He lifted Mercer by his leather jacket and yanked it off him. His t-shirt was stained dark red along his side and his arm was bleeding badly as well. The Rattlers held him down as Smitty grabbed his hurt arm and made another cut. He slowly pulled the blade across flesh, spilling more blood. It was agony, but Mercer didn’t make a sound. He might die on the street, but he wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction of knowing how badly it hurt.
Smitty pulled the knife towards his bicep, getting closer to a spot that Mercer knew contained a major artery. If Smitty cut that, Mercer would bleed out in minutes. His mind raced for a plan, but nothing came to mind. He was trapped and about to die and there was nothing he could do. His mind thought of Danni. He hoped Doc could get her out of town before the Rattlers came for her, too.
There was a loud bang and the side of Smitty’s head exploded. Chunks of skull and brains blew through the air and his eyes went dead before his body ever hit the ground. Every single man spun to see where the shot had come from. Cruz was standing ten feet away, next to his bike. In the excitement, no one had heard him approaching.
“Get the fuck away from him!” commanded Cruz.
The Rattlers stood up, but made no effort to move away from Mercer.
“Did you hear me? Back the fuck up or I blow another one of you assholes away.”
“What then?” shouted Fixer. “You can’t take all of us.”
“I can take enough of you out to destroy the Rattlers. And who’s gonna make a move? Because I guarantee, the first man to step this way ends up a bloody wad on the street.”
None of the Rattlers moved. None of them wanted to be the first to attempt to take on Cruz and almost certainly die.
“That’s what I thought,” said Cruz. “Now I will only say it one more time to get away from Mercer.”
They did as he said. Mercer, ghost white, didn’t move. He had lost a lot of blood and he wasn’t going to last much longer if Cruz didn’t get him to help soon.
Never dropping his gun, Cruz got to Mercer and helped him up.
“Can you ride?”
“Yeah,” said Mercer, although he didn’t really believe it, and from the look on Cruz’s face, he didn’t either.
Cruz got Mercer’s bike back on its wheels. Bits of glass and metal fell off and Mercer climbed on, cradling his bloody arm. He kicked the bike to life and got it up to a decent speed. Cruz quickly got to his bike and rode past the Rattlers, keeping his gun on them the whole time.
When they turned the corner, Cruz holstered his gun and yelled to Mercer to take off. Mercer hit the gas and rode as fast as he dared. He was light headed and could only hope he’d make it back to the clubhouse. He constantly checked his one remaining mirror, but it looked like the Rattlers weren’t following.
They were two blocks from the clubhouse when Mercer collapsed off his bike. Fortunately, he had just stopped at a light and was only going ten miles an hour when he lost consciousness. He slipped off his bike and it traveled another five feet before crashing against the pavement.
Crash (Black Ice MC Novella Book 2) Page 5
