TAMING GRIZZ (A DEVIL'S DRAGONS MOTORCYCLE CLUB ROMANCE)

by Nikki Wild

  “And I suppose you expect these men to just take you at your word? They’re just going to listen to you and your little police bitch?” Fang said, his shoulders squaring up.

  “My little police bitch brought me all the evidence I need,” Hunter replied, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a folded square of paper. He tossed it at Fang’s feet and I gasped as I saw what it was. Half a dozen photographs spilled out from between the pages, and the pages themselves…

  My case file… The pictures from the raid on the strip club… Hunter must have taken them from my cruiser!

  “Thats part of the incident report, and it talks about your little fucking phone call. Why don’t you pick it up and read it to everyone? They’ve got a full transcript and a goddamned number on file to contact their favorite backstabbing snitch.”

  I heard the crunching of gravel from behind. Hunter’s voice, dripping with malice, rang out in the empty desert air.

  “Sarah… step aside.”

  Realizing how much my hand was trembling with my anger, I lowered my gun and took a few steps away. I lifted my gaze to Hunter’s icy stare as he paused his stride where I had been standing, raising the barrel of his own gun to face down the rival club president.

  The elderly biker president stepped from the crowd. “Hunter… You can’t execute this man without giving the Outlaws a say in it. I won’t let you do this.”

  Hunter didn’t break his eyes from Fang, who was gazing at him in fear. The smugness had left his face, and he looked like he just might be standing on his gravesite.

  The air was thick with anticipation.

  “Lower your weapons,” Hunter ordered.

  Uneasily, everyone shared glances between themselves once more. The barrels to their guns were still pointed our way. This was it: this was the make or break, and I could practically see the tension crackle between us all.

  “Remember who I am,” Hunter elaborated. “This is a direct command: lower all of your weapons immediately.”

  To my awe, every barrel lowered… all except his, which remained pointed down at the snake in our midst. I gazed around in a mixture of surprise and confusion when the present members of these rival clubs followed the orders of the man who had one of their own on the ground, seconds from death…

  Hunter’s voice rang out:

  “My name is Hunter Hargreaves, president of the Devil’s Dragons MC and reigning leader of the Outlaws. When this man’s plot killed my mentor Eduardo, I lifted his mantle and continued his work. I was determined to see his legacy come to fruition. Eduardo was no saint. He led the Devil’s Dragons into an era of running drugs, destroying lives, and rising off the broken backs of others. But there was more to the man than that. Eduardo’s dream was to unify us all into one organization of separate biker clubs, no longer limited by infighting, but strengthened against outside threats. I took that dream, steering it away from evil. He wanted uncontested power. I built upon that dream, guiding it towards harmony. All of your presidents sit on the council that I built in Eduardo’s name over the last five years. With help, I have established trade and turf agreements that allow you to peacefully co-exist… unifying you and so many others into an unbreakable coalition.”

  He glowered down at Fang, who merely turned away with a face of bitter anger.

  “All of you have come here because you respect my power and my reputation,” Hunter spoke out comfortably but authoritatively. “You have answered the call of the man who changed the desert underworld. Is there a single person among you who dares contest my right?”

  Even the elderly biker remained silent.

  I was completely dumbfounded.

  I had no idea that Hunter wielded such power… with his words and his mere force of presence, he had not only summoned dozens of bikers from a handful of other clubs overnight, but also issued commands that they followed.

  Even club presidents yielded to him.

  When nobody moved a muscle, he motioned to Fang.

  “Turn and kneel.”

  Fang spat at the dirt, but turned his back to Hunter. He lowered himself back down to his knees as he stared directly away from us.

  Hunter took several steps, placing the end of his gun barrel directly to the back of Fang’s skull.

  Panic seized in my throat.

  I wanted to call out to him, to plead that he not execute this man who had ruined our lives…

  But the sound of a gunshot never came.

  “Bind him,” Hunter finally ordered.

  It appeared that every other soul had expected Hunter to spill Fang’s blood as well, because it was a moment before anybody moved. Finally, several of his Dragons stepped forward, withdrawing their belts. They wrapped them around Fang’s shoulders and tightened the straps.

  I recalled the handcuffs in their holster on my belt. I too came forward, snapping them on Fang’s wrists from behind and securing him as the prisoner of the Devil’s Dragons.

  “Understand my mercy,” Hunter called out to the gathered clubs. “This man took my woman from me. He conspired to destroy my club. He contacted the police and called them down upon us… but it is not my place to judge him! I will assemble the council, and we will decide his fate together.”

  Hunter stood glaring around the others. “We do things together. We call upon our brothers, those who belong to the Outlaws. Even I will pass no judgment alone.”

  I could see now that they truly respected him. Perhaps they had come out of a sense of lingering honor, expecting a favor to later cash in… but now, the assembled force understood the conviction of the man who summoned them.

  “Members of the Obsidian Guardians… I expect you to take that evidence back to your chapter and show it to your men. When you’ve voted on a new president, send him to me…”

  He had united them all, breaking barriers and prejudices between them. Somehow, he had removed their limitations, guiding them towards coexistence.

  Waiting until the four remaining members of the Obsidian Guardians had mounted their bikes and roared into the night, Hunter addressed the remaining crowd once more:

  “With that distraction swept away…” He crossed his arms powerfully, letting his voice boom: “Who among you will follow me into warfare?”

  The fist of every biker present thrust up into the sky in a chorus of cheers.

  Hunter smiled confidently, making brief eye contact with me before rallying the cry: “…Then join us, brothers. We ride at nightfall!”

  54

  While the others began their preparations, Hunter put several men on the task of guarding the prisoner cell where they’d placed Fang. He specifically chose a few club members who were better kept out of the impending gunfire – bikers slower on their feet, or weaker with the weapons.

  Grizz, as the Devil’s Dragons second-in-command, volunteered for the task of ensuring full prisoner cooperation.

  “I need you by my side,” Hunter reminded him. “The Dragons can keep this fuckers behind bars, but you? Your place is with me tonight.”

  The burly biker’s piercing blue eyes met his, and he nodded solemnly. Grizz understood his place, and knew that Hunter could use all the help he could get when it came to assaulting the cartel… Without another word, Grizz accepted the role of overseeing preparations among the seventy bikers as Hunter disappeared into his war room.

  Eager to contribute in some way, I brought him a cup of coffee. Glancing up from his maps, he gratefully accepted the steaming mug and turned his attention away from the sprawling notes.

  “You can stay here if you want,” Hunter reminded me. “You understand, of course, that I’m not asking you to implicate yourself in cross-border infiltration and cartel warfare…”

  “I want to be there,” I told him firmly. “This is your fight, but that doesn’t mean I can’t use this to my own ends. If you take another hostage – especially one further up the chain – then I can probably extract some information on where to find those cheerleaders…”

>   “You don’t want to be a part of that process,” Hunter grimaced.

  “You haven’t let me in on any of this yet! You stole my case files. You’ve kept me as far in the dark as you can. When are you going to let me into your world and start explaining these things? I still don’t know what exactly happened to your sister… how you organized this bikers’ alliance of yours… who this interrogator of yours is, or what you’ve been doing for the last eight years to rebuild the Devil’s Dragons… and that’s only what I know about.”

  I gave him a meaningful, heartfelt glance. “There are so many mysteries with you, Hunter… I feel like I’m just scratching the surface. When are you going to open up?”

  “In due time,” Hunter replied, sensing my frustration. “I know that you want to know everything right now, but we don’t have the time for that… You want to come, fine. Help me through this ordeal tonight, and I promise you that I will keep no secrets. Just give me the time to finish this.”

  “You’re going up against the Víboras Verde cartel,” I mused aloud to myself. “The Vipers of the Green. You think you have a chance to snuff them out, to destroy their central order and let their outlying operations collapse, wherever they are…”

  “That’s right,” he confirmed, glancing down at the maps again as he set his coffee aside. “The hostage gave us some solid intel on their workings. Everything that was finally pulled from him correlates to the understanding I already had…”

  “What happens if we get down there and he fed you a thick stack of lies?” I asked, playing Devil’s advocate.

  “The information is good,” he promised me. “There’s no doubt about that. The Desert Owl is very persuasive…”

  “Right,” I nodded, crossing my arms and holding my elbows. That wasn’t convincing me, and Hunter knew it… but I wasn’t willing to keep the topic going.

  “You’ll want to get some rest if you can,” Hunter reminded me. “Fit in a couple of hours’ sleep if you can. Our guests are going to do the same. God knows my club needs it.”

  “That’s not a bad idea,” I replied softly. “What about you?”

  For a second, Hunter looked amenable to the idea. After all, we hadn’t slept in a bed together since reuniting.

  But his glance slid over to his tabletop, covered in maps with revised information and new details, and I knew his answer before he parted his lips.

  “I have to go over everything a few times,” Hunter replied softly but firmly. He pointed to a nondescript door to the side of the war room and continued, “Go on ahead without me. I’ll be in there in a little while.”

  I gave him a quick kiss, my hand lingering on his shoulder for a moment. After a quick squeeze, I slid into the room. It was a small room with a full-sized bed in the corner, some basic wooden furniture, a tall floor lamp, a small bookcase, and a standing closet.

  This is his bedroom away from home, I realized to myself as I shed down to my underwear and slipped beneath the covers of his bed.

  With my head against his pillow, I could watch him study the table. He descended back into his work, glancing between maps and pinning papers to the walls.

  I knew he wasn’t going to rest.

  He couldn’t rest.

  Although he clearly wanted to climb into this bed with me and enjoy my company just as much as I wanted him to, he couldn’t pull himself away from his work. The safety of his men, and the lives of these last abductee victims, weighed too heavily on his mind.

  The binding chains of responsibility weigh heavy, I thought to myself as I drifted to sleep, gazing sleepily upon my man as he worked hard to protect us all.

  When I next opened my eyes, Hunter was nowhere to be found. Grumbling and wiping the sleep from my eyes, I crawled out of bed and threw my clothes back on.

  How long has it been? I thought to myself, throwing my boots back on and walking out into the hallway. There was a bustle of activity as bikers from every present club flooded towards the front, snatching up gear.

  As I stepped into the front den and finally encountered windows again, I realized that the sun was already setting outside.

  Well… that answers how long I’ve been out, I thought to myself numbly.

  I needed to find Hunter, and fast.

  While scanning the crowd for him, I noticed that over half of the collected bikers weren’t in bulletproof vests… There must have not been enough time to secure more protection for the assembled forces.

  A feeling of foreboding came over me.

  Hunter knew better than to lead these forces into the fight unprepared. So far, we had been lucky to survive no casualties and only a few wounds. We might not be so lucky in the future…

  Was one more day enough time to prepare for a grander, larger scale of attack? After all, we were trespassing across the border… heading into the enemy’s territory and striking them on their own turf. We would be bringing the fight directly to them…

  I shook my head.

  Have more faith in him, I reprimanded myself. After all, this wasn’t the first time he’d done this. He’d been a part of the Dragons when they’d descended a lot further than this into Mexico, striking at the cartel to free his sister before…

  This time, he had the advantage.

  Hunter had assembled a considerable force here. While they brought their own weaponry, there was still extra to go around.

  We also had the luxury of a nearby target. We would be heading less than a dozen miles outside of Juarez. We could be there in an hour if we caught the right trail.

  More men.

  More guns.

  More time.

  Hunter had spent countless hours pouring over this plan, uniting the necessary manpower to his cause, and studying the revised trivia he now knew from the survivor of the cartel border brawl.

  My man’s got this in the bag.

  I finally spotted Hunter off in a dark corner speaking to Grizz. The two were in some kind of hot debate, and I hesitated to interfere.

  Before I could turn and find something else to do, Hunter spotted me. With a sly grin, he gestured for me to join them. As I reluctantly approached, Grizz whispered something in his ear before disappearing into the crowd.

  “What was that all about?” I asked Hunter after coming into earshot.

  The Devil’s Dragons president glanced over in the direction that his second-in-command had chosen, and shook his head.

  “He’s just worried. He thinks that I should stay behind on this one.”

  “Why’s that?” I replied, crossing my arms.

  “He caught me awake,” Hunter replied simply. “Everyone else got some shut-eye, even the Dragons on our operation last night. Grizz got restless and he spotted me bent over those maps…”

  “He thinks you’re going to be too tired?”

  Hunter ran his hand through his hair. “Grizz is careful. He’s methodical.”

  My expression soured. “Grizz has a point.”

  “I know,” Hunter replied. “But tired or not, I have to ride…”

  “What makes you so sure?”

  “Look at us,” he indicated to the bikers as they wrapped up their work, suiting up for the coming fight. “Everyone is prepared to follow me into the fight. If I stayed behind, it would send the wrong message. There’s no turning back now… Can you feel it in the air?” He pointed upwards.

  I shook my head. “Tension?”

  “Anticipation,” Hunter corrected. “These men are hungry for a piece of the action. It’s not just about the money, either. Everybody wants to be the hero sometimes…”

  I glanced over the dissipating crowd as it swept outside, snatching up weapons and patting each other on the backs on their way out.

  They seemed… oddly jovial.

  “You’ve noticed,” Hunter read the expression on my face. “You’ve seen how ready for this they are… how they almost don’t take it seriously.”

  “Why is that?” I asked, turning my head to face him. “Why aren’
t any of them scared? They could lose their lives. We could be riding into something a lot more dangerous than they think…”

  “It isn’t often that the Outlaws are seriously put to the test,” Hunter observed.

  I only hoped they were ready for the road ahead…

  Hunter pulled my thoughts away before I could voice any concern. “We need to get going, Sarah. The men are assembled, the night awaits, and the time has come.”

  55

  True to his word, Hunter led the charge… and he looked damn good doing it. The wind whipped at his leathers as the engine roared beneath us, rocking us towards our destiny.

  With my arms tightly wrapped around his strong, rugged chest, I glanced over my shoulder and briefly studied our escort squad under the moonlight. Our improvised biker fleet, totaling members from five motorcycle clubs, was right behind us and kicking up an impressive storm of dust.

  The dark cacophony of the rolling engines formed a symphony of bitter vengeance. With Hunter as their conductor, each biker in our merry band had their prospective instrument nearby: a pistol, a shotgun, a rifle, a knife…

  I was still stunned that he had successfully mobilized such a force. Minus a traitor, about seventy motorcycles flanked us beneath the stars as we rocketed forward, all of us aligned to the same goals:

  Find the girls.

  Overthrow the cartel.

  Instead of heading towards the farmhouse, we were flying the opposite direction. The collective beam of headlights rolled around us, several bikers unable to resist a couple of burn outs or firing a few weapons into the sky.

  Hunter had warned them upfront:

  Get your fun out of the way now.

  Once we reach the fence, we’re all business.

  He’d known that they needed to get a little adrenaline out of their systems first, ramping themselves into the mindset of attacking a nearby sex-trafficking cartel.

  After all, he was a good leader.

  He knew what his men needed.

  Hunter signaled back to the closest bikers, and they began to slow down. The decreased momentum trickled backwards through the biker armada. We were soon flying forwards from them, breaking away as a single motorcycle.