BROKEN ANGEL: Devil's Route MC

by Nicole Fox

  “The club is doing fine,” I told him. “And my leg's doing a lot better. I was hit with a stray bullet during the raid. But that's actually what I'm here to talk to you all about.”

  “Awesome, no problem,” Victor said, leading me away into the clubhouse. “I already assembled everyone, just like you had asked.”

  “Thanks, man,” I told him as we entered their meeting room. I looked around at the faces gathered there—some familiar; some whom I'd never met. “Hi everyone, nice to see you all. As I'm sure you've all heard, Frank Cordell has, sadly, passed away earlier this month, as has his son, Max Cordell. Both were killed at the hands of our local rivals, the Holy Flames motorcycle club.”

  A murmur went up around the room.

  “Now, the last thing I want is to go storm their clubhouse with my men,” I continued. “Because that's exactly the kind of thinking that got Frank killed to start with. And as you know, any loss within our brotherhood is a heavy loss indeed. We are armed and ready to go, but we need your help.”

  Another murmur.

  “I'm no more ready to have my men killed than you are, Jake,” Victor said, looking uneasy. There were nods around the room.

  “I get that,” I told him. “But that's why we have to surprise them. If they don't expect us to come after them, and don't expect us to have a serious advantage in the number of men that we have, then we can outflank them and pick them off one by one.”

  Victor laughed a little in disbelief. “How many men do you think that we have?” he asked. “And how would we escape the notice of the Holy Flames long enough to get into town and get settled and ready for a raid?”

  “The Devil's Route branch in Nevada is also considering joining us,” I told him, trying to soothe his worries. “You don't need to pledge all of your men, just anyone who would even volunteer to join us would be welcome. I think we'll have enough men that we should have no problem. The Holy Flames aren't the best shooters anyway. As for how we're going to all get into town and surprise them with an attack, we have the perfect cover story: we're on a memorial ride for Frank, starting up here, going down through Nevada and picking up more of our brethren, and then ending up back in Millhaven to visit Frank's grave. By the time Emilio even suspects that something is up, we'll be picking off his men left and right.”

  There was a long silence, but I could see that some of the men seemed interested.

  “If I may,” one of Victor's guys said, standing up. He turned to look at me, tilting his head to the side as he considered me. “My name is Jason Grey,” he finally told me. “You probably don't remember me, but I was staying with a couple of the Millhaven Devil's Route guys back when Frank adopted you.”

  “I vaguely remember you,” I told him, trying to think back.

  “You've grown up a lot since then,” Jason said. “Frank must have been so proud of you. You seem really mature, and a ready leader for our club.”

  I ducked my head a little. “Thanks,” I muttered bashfully.

  Jason turned to look around at the other members of the group. “Look, I'd trust this man with my life,” he said. “Because I saw the kid that Frank pulled out of the streets, and he was half feral. Here he is now, in front of us all, asking us for our help because his brotherhood is in danger from another motorcycle club—that's not the kind of action that we might have expected out of the kid when he was fresh off the streets.” He laughed a little. “No, the Jake Ryce that Frank took off the streets only cared about one thing: his own survival.”

  “Your point?” Victor asked, thoughtfully studying the other man.

  Jason shrugged. “This is what we do this for, isn't it?” he asked, looking around at the other members of his club. “We're all here for the brotherhood. And because, hey, we like riding bikes together, right? But what really brings us all together, what makes us all successful, is the brotherhood. Now, Frank was able to take a kid who didn't believe in anyone except himself, and Frank made him believe in the brotherhood enough that he could come up here, to people he'd never met before, and ask us for our help. Isn't that what the brotherhood is for? I think we should help the kid. I think we owe it to Frank to help the kid.”

  Victor nodded his head a little and looked around. “Wise words, Jason. Anyone else have any thoughts on this?”

  “I'm going whether you want us to or not,” another man said, standing up. He studied me as well. “I think your plan needs some tweaking, but I think it's mostly sound. And I think that as Jason said, this is what the brotherhood is meant for. We have to help each other out, whether it's just within our region of the club or across regions.”

  Victor snorted and stood up. “All right, all right, everyone, calm down. If we have no dissenters...” There was silence in the room. He smiled a little. “All right. Well, if there are no dissenters, then I will pledge a maximum of twenty people to your cause, Jake Ryce. You'd better bring them all back to me in one piece.”

  “I'll do my best,” I told him seriously. “We'll ride out of here in the morning, if that's okay. It's been a long ride up from Millhaven, and I didn't get as early a start as I had intended to.”

  Victor nodded at me. “I'm sure we can find a place for you.” He looked around at his group. “Well, you heard him. You'll ride out in the morning. So why don't you all go home and give your wives a night to remember, and then meet back here early and ready for a memorial ride first thing in the morning? Bring your best weapons. For now, you're all dismissed. And Jake, let's see what we can find for you.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Riding back up the road towards Millhaven with over a hundred bikers behind me was thrilling. We had the twenty from the Oregon branch, plus nearly fifty combined from the Nevada branches in Reno and Las Vegas. Add to that the fifty-seven riders from the California branches who had agreed to join with us and we were doing pretty good.

  Of course, no one knew exactly how many men Emilio had in his club, but I doubted it was that many. We would outnumber them by at least two to one.

  I smiled a little and then turned my bike off into a truck stop, listening to everyone else roar down off the highway with me.

  “All right, everyone,” I said when we were all parked. “This is our final pit stop before we split up. Let's get some food in us, and if anyone has any last questions about the plan, make sure to ask them now.” There was silence, and I shrugged. “All right, inside!”

  We had decided that splitting up into smaller groups as we came back into town was a better idea so that we could avoid detection from Emilio and the Flames — and the local authorities as well, to a certain extent. Of course, they couldn't arrest us just for riding motorcycles, but they would have to know something was up if a giant swarm of a hundred bikers all came roaring into town, and the last thing we needed was for the cops to interfere.

  So instead, we would all come at the town from different directions. And in weather like this, we could practically guarantee that every able member of the Flames would be out riding in a cluster, since it was one of the last nice days of fall. We would surround them, keeping our same formations, and … Well, hopefully that would be the end of all our problems with the Holy Flames MC.

  Sure enough, as we rode towards town, my group flew past Emilio's group heading out along the highway towards the mountains. I pulled us off to the side after they had gone past and got on the radio. “Guys, we've spotted them,” I said, still trying to count the number of men as they receded off into the distance. It had to be nearly all of them; they were riding in pairs, for the most part, and there had to be thirty or so of them. Perfect.

  “They're headed up into the mountains, going along the highway. We're going to chase directly on their tails at a little bit of a distance,” I told the others over the radio. “Then Scott and Adam, I want you to bring in your groups over on their left side, using the road that goes through Newell. Hank and Tom, I want you coming from the east, on the road that goes through Oldfort. We should all spit out a
t around the same time and surround them.”

  I received affirmatives from everyone else and looked around at my group. “Well, this is it,” I told them.

  Bryce snorted. “Don't tell me you're about to give a tearful speech, boss,” he told me, rolling his eyes a little.

  I laughed and shook my head, jamming my helmet back on. “Far from it,” I told him. “Come on, let's go!”

  Somehow, things worked exactly like I had planned. We rained down on the Holy Flames from every side. And somehow, as an added bonus, there was no one else around on the road. I didn't mind killing off members of the Holy Flames, not after what they had did to Frank, not after Halley had been kidnapped, even if that didn't really have anything to do with them. But I didn't really want to have a shoot-out while we were surrounded by random civilians. That would have brought a lot of pressure and arrests from the local cops, for sure.

  We skidded to a stop surrounding the Holy Flames, who were forced to stop by Bryce's group, which had gone on ahead of mine and gotten in front of them. There was nowhere for them to go.

  And that was when we began to rain bullets down on them.

  I don't even think they really knew what was happening. One moment they were out for a ride, enjoying the sunshine and one another's company, and the next moment…

  Well, it was a bloodbath. I was pretty used to gore, and even I was a bit sickened by it, but I tried not to focus on it. Instead, I focused on getting through all of them and getting to Emilio, who was, of course, near the very center of the pack.

  Incredibly, he managed to break through the ranks, though, still on his bike, and he and two of his guys sped off, managing to evade the bullets that we were raining down on him. At least, a few of us were shooting at him. Most people, when I looked around, were too preoccupied with the members of the Holy Flames that were still scattered there on the highway.

  I swore and jumped back on my bike, preparing to head after Emilio on my own. It was one thing to kill off all his men, but I couldn't let him go, not after all of this. Not only would he be able to build up his club again, potentially, but I just couldn't suffer the man to live any longer.

  I growled and tore after him on my bike, the tires leaving squealing skid marks on the pavement. But I wasn't the only one chasing him down. When I glanced to the side, I saw the Bryce was on his bike as well, bent down into the wind and just as hellbent on catching the fucker.

  I grinned a little. Wasn't that fitting. Of anyone I trusted to have my back as I went after Emilio, it was him.

  We raced back into Millhaven, skidding around corners. I watched the traffic lights, terrified of the time when they made it through and we were stuck behind. But fortunately, that never happened, and they didn't manage to shake us off their tails.

  Suddenly, I realized I knew where we were going anyway, and I almost laughed at it. Why, we were headed straight for the Holy Flames' clubhouse. I might have guessed that.

  It was a smart plan on his part, though. Bring me back on his territory, to a place that only he knew really well. We would have a difficult time defeating him in there. Especially since it was just Bryce and me.

  But we had to go after them; there was no other way, and I was afraid that in the time it would take to bring other members of the Devil's Route there, Emilio might escape and hop the next flight to the tropics. Plus, after the bloodbath on the highway, the bikers from Oregon and Nevada needed to get back across state lines, and my own bikers needed to go home and pretend that they'd had nothing to do with the situation.

  This public slaughter may not have been the best idea, really. But ... well, there was no time to dwell on that now.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  At the clubhouse, Bryce and I swung off our bikes nearly in unison, both running towards the front door. He glanced over at me, already pulling out his gun. “You ready?” he asked.

  I nodded grimly. “I'm going first,” I told him. “If anyone's getting shot in here other than Emilio and his lackeys, it's going to be me.”

  Bryce snorted. “You don't have to be the hero, Jake,” he said. “Besides, Devil's Route needs you. Halley needs you, and Cole needs you. If anyone's going to get shot in here, it's going to be me. Plus, you were just shot a few weeks ago, and I know that bullet wounds leave impressive scars, and chicks dig scars. Share the wealth, man.”

  I couldn't help laughing a little at that. “Fine,” I said, rolling my eyes, even though I really didn't like the idea of him going first, but if he was going to insist that he went first, well, who was I to stop him.

  I followed after him into the darkened clubhouse, reaching for the light switch and trying to think where Emilio might be hiding. To my surprise, the clubhouse was constructed almost exactly the same as our own clubhouse, and I spared a moment to wonder how that might have happened.

  “You know the Holy Flames used to be part of Devil's Route, once upon a time, don't you?” Bryce asked, glancing back at me. “It was formed by one of the members of Devil's Route, who felt like we were dabbling a little too far with things beyond the law.” He grinned. “And now, here we are, fighting because the Holy Flames seem to think that they're above the law and we're here to bring them to justice.”

  I wondered how I had never learned that before. But then again, having not been brought up in the motorcycle club like some of the other guys, there was a lot that I didn't know, things that they just took for rote. Still, that explained the similarities between the clubhouses. And, I supposed, why there were two heated rivals living so close to one another in the small town of Millhaven, California.

  I tried to think like Emilio, but I wasn't sure just where the man would go. To his office? No, he had to know that we would look there first. But then again, he had led us straight back to his clubhouse without even really trying to get us off his track. That had been a pretty obvious move as well.

  With a sinking heart, I wondered if it was a trap, if maybe he had men here waiting to ambush Bryce and me. Not that I really thought they cared all that much about Bryce, but if they wanted to take over the Devil's Route MC, there was no easier way than to leave the club without leadership. And my death would mean that Frank, Max, and I had all been killing within the month. But if it was a trap, when would he have set it up? And wouldn't he have cared that most of his club was dead out on the highway now? He didn't have enough people left to make things worthwhile, to really take over the Devil's Route MC.

  No, he had to just be running scared and running back to the place that he knew. The clubhouse. His office.

  I nudged Bryce towards where the offices would be, and sure enough, we heard a clatter. Bryce and I ducked behind a corner just as there was gunfire.

  “Shit,” Bryce hissed.

  “Did they get you?” I asked worriedly.

  “No, but that was close,” Bryce said tersely. He peeked around the corner and fired a couple shots, and there was a pained shout from down the hall. He gave a satisfied grin and nodded. “Come on, we need to get closer,” he said. “They won't be so stupid as to peek out like that again.”

  “How do you think we're going to get closer?” I asked. “If we try running down the hall, we'll be sitting ducks.”

  “Sure,” Bryce agreed. Then suddenly, his eyes widened. “Oh jeez, I forget sometimes that you didn't grow up around the clubhouse with the rest of us. There's another way to get towards the offices. A back way. But we don’t use it very often since it goes through a bunch of other rooms and stuff. It's kind of like a secret passageway.”

  I shook my head. “You had better not get yourself killed during all of this,” I told him, “because I am seriously going to need your expertise when I really take over the Devil's Route MC.”

  Bryce laughed. “Yeah, I've always wanted to be some politician's wife,” he said, sticking his tongue out at me.

  I always admired his ability to crack jokes when we were in situations like this. Already, I could feel some of my anxiety easing. “Come
on, lead the way,” I told him.

  We snuck down the hallways and eventually came to a narrow room that seemed as though it were between two walls. I frowned at Bryce. “Where exactly are we?” I asked in a low voice.

  He put his finger over his lips, twisting around so he could see me. “If this is anything like the Devil's Route clubhouse, it's not very soundproof,” he said. “Major design flaw. Or intentionally done, possibly, since otherwise it would be entirely possible to have anyone sneak up and murder you.”

  “Which is exactly what we're trying to do to Emilio,” I breathed.

  “Yeah, well. Bastard has it coming to him,” Bryce said, his eyes getting a steely edge. “Frank and I were close too, you know. That's part of why you and I became such fast friends.”

  “I remember,” I told him. And as much as I wanted to kill the man myself… “Look, you're in front. If you can put a bullet between his eyes, do it.”