Yo Neg pointed to a bunch of shrubbery and tall grass that seemed a little thicker than the rest that lined their route and slowed, turning his headlight toward the area. The guys followed, all watching for any sign of someone who might be setting up an ambush. When movement did show as they discovered the first tunnel, he didn’t waste time and parked his bike, running to lead Bull, Sledge, and Zeus toward the six charging bodies, bullets flying. “No survivors! Kill ‘em all, let God sort ‘em out.”
He was the first to reach his target, putting a bullet between the eyes of the head of the herd and immobilizing the second. Instead of tactfully shooting the man in a clean kill, he went for his blade. Yo Neg favored a knife to a gun, always roused by the guys. The saying, ‘Don’t bring a knife to a gun fight’ applied to most people, but not him. He felt more comfortable with the steel in his hand. More in control. It also worked to ease his aggression problems.
In one fast jab and swipe, he cut the man’s throat. Blood squirted out as he bled out, his body falling to the ground with a ‘thud’. He looked around for more, disappointed to see none remained.
“That all of ‘em?” he asked, hoping if there were people hiding it’d bring them out of the woodwork—which it did. A Diablo came charging toward them on a motorcycle, revving the motor and showing his ass. Yo Neg stepped forward, waiting.
“This motherfucker’s mine.” The gang member got off his bike and jabbered off something in Mexican that he didn’t understand or even care to. “Press one for English you enchilada sucking son-of-a-bitch!” He looked to be overcompensating with his gang colors flying and his pants sagged between his knees, hiding what was probably a little prick tucked up under his balls. From the glare in his eyes under his low dew rag and the frown under the mustache that resembled a dirty sanchez, he wasn’t too happy. Good. Before the asshole had a chance to reach for a weapon, Yo Neg was on him.
In one high kick, Yo Neg had the pistol the fucker was reaching for flying through the air and out of reach. His fists made contact a few times before the thug fought back, his blows painless through Yo Neg’s rage. He grinned after he took a right hook and the taste of blood coated his tongue. “That all you got, you goat fucker? What, your daddy wasn’t around to teach you to fight? Pathetic!” He charged him, unleashing all of the built up aggression he’d had since Abi had walked back into the picture. He let both fists swing, using his knees and elbows to fill the short moments it took to cock his arm back for more. The Diablo didn’t stand a chance. He tried to defend himself, grabbing a knife off his belt that’d cost him a brunt blow to the nose, only to have it taken away and used on him. Yo Neg took him to the ground, slamming his body hard enough the thunk vibrated through the soles of his boots. In one graceful motion, he plunged the metal blade in his gut, sinking it to the hilt and twisted it. The man frantically swung his arms in a desperate attempt for his life as Yo Neg cut from his groin to his chest bone, gutting him. Blood pooled onto the dirt from the Diablo, creating a puddle in the powdery earth below. “Todos ustedes pagará hijo de puta!” he let out in a scream of agony before he faded into his death.
“Oh, we will pay, you dirty wetback. We’ll pay all it takes to keep you in the hellhole you belong in!” Yo Neg stood, hocked a loogie in the dead man’s face and turned away without a second look. He scanned the area and saw the others had made it out. Given the few bloodied bodies he saw under the moonlight, their job was done. He hopped back on his bike, kicking it to life, and waited. The sound of the other group's bikes reaching them from the opposite side. Yo Neg guessed the two paths joined back at this point as he watched the others get off their bikes to assess the incident.
“Damn. He gutted that bitch like a salmon.” Tonka laughed, looking at the Diablo laying dead on the ground.
“I guess cockroaches really do have a good way of hiding. Think we should check for more?” Colt turned to Sandman as they walked up.
“Yeah. Let’s split up and spread out. Watch for explosives and anything that those fucks could have planted,” Sandman instructed, walking with his eyes on the ground. “Prospects—watch the bikes. Give the signal if anyone approaches and shoot anything that moves.”
“I seriously doubt we are going to run into any lawn mowers or Lemon Pledge, but I guess nothing’s impossible,” Road snorted.
“It’s bad when the damn camouflage for their tunnels is neatly placed and landscaped. Fuckin’ beaners can’t help themselves,” Colt mumbled, shaking his head.
They took a few pictures, stepping out the distance between the caves. There were tracks leading in and out, from mostly cars with only a few legible bike treads in the mix, which meant they were moving huge quantities of product. With the tire imprints where a vehicle had turned to miss the tree stationed not far from the mouth of the tunnel, they got a better idea of what size each car brought through was. The front and rear axle were spaced farther apart than a car or regular truck, so it was safe for them to assume vans and SUVs were their preferred mules. With no other clues left behind, they loaded back up for the stretch home.
“Don’t think we gotta worry about that one raising from the dead. Okay, let’s ride.” Tonto mounted his bike, getting them out of there faster than they’d arrived. He had a hot little woman waiting who he’d intentionally pissed off before he left, knowing he and Sandman would have a wild night when they got home. Damn their little Rayne was hot-tempered, and even hotter in the bedroom. With a grin he took off, reveling in the purr of bikes behind him.
Yo Neg was ready to let off some steam. There were three things on his mind: food, booze, and sex. After the past couple of days, he’d settle for two out of the three. His member may not have gotten the memo that he needed sex, so rubbing one might be his only option. Hopes were invested on the alcohol aiding his lack of interest in the bitches that waited back at the clubhouse. Tonight, he needed a pro. There was only one solution: Red and her wicked ways, and Bree with her exhibitionism. Maybe some girl-on-girl could break the vise his balls had been locked in. Damn Abi for fucking up his head.
*****
Abi adjusted her gloves, shoving her mouthpiece in just before the bell. Her opponent was a seasoned fighter but didn’t stand a chance. She wasn’t cocky but confident in her abilities. After a friendly glove tap, the fight began. Abi had been trained by some of the best in the profession so she was a well-rounded fighter. Her jiu jitsu and martial arts skills were perfection, giving her a great ground game that matched her boxing. From precise kicks to ground and pound, Abi was a lethal machine. The buffed out blonde dike bobbed and weaved, slinging a sloppy superman swing that missed by a mile. Abi grinned at the careless window of opportunity, stepping up with short jabs that landed to her face and abdomen. The woman stumbled backwards, regained her balance, and charged. The crowd went wild, muffling through the temporary deafness that always came when she stepped into the octagon. Their cheers and chants egged her on, giving her that nitro boost that amplified her adrenaline tenfold.
Four of her six punches landed, stinging Abi’s right eye. She felt the swelling start immediately and shook it off. Say goodnight, bitch. Abi ducked on the next blow, jumping up into a full spin kick that caught the woman across her cheek, which knocked her head to the side, and hurdled her backwards onto the mat. This time the shouts and screams of the crowd faded into the distance. Her focus narrowed, sighting in on the win.
Without skipping a beat, Abi pounced on top of her into full guard with both hooks in. It wasn’t long until her textbook movements had the woman immobilized while she began doing some cosmetic adjustments to the girl’s face. Even after she managed to free an arm and defend the riveting moves, Abi kept the upper hand. With two minutes left in the first round, she fought for the win with a TKO. In an unexpected turn of events, the battered blonde spun under her and knocked her off to her left side. Abi’s legs hooked over her body, her hands wrenching the fighter’s left arm out straight and went in for the arm bar. With her body in position, Abi lea
ned backwards, arching her body and using her legs as leverage to overextend the arm. One hard yank later, her arm snapped in two places and she tapped out. With her radius bone sticking out under the skin of her forearm and her shoulder dropped and cocked in a funky position, there was no doubt it was broke.
“Fuck!” Abi growled. She wanted a knock out, not a tap out. A win was a win to most, but she felt cheated unless she was able to give that finishing blow that had her opponent stiffening to a board and falling to the mat. The ref stopped the fight, motioning for Abi to stand and join him in the middle of the octagon. Once the woman had joined them, he held their wrists in each hand, waiting for the crowd to settle down.
“Winner by submission from an arm bar, Abi Moon!” The woman looked at her confused and pissed she’d just been forced to submit. When she underestimated with her first impression of Abi, it had cost her. For such a small little Indian, she packed hellacious power.
“Good fight.” The bleeding woman patted Abi’s back and walked away, allowing her her two minutes of fame while they did a play by play of the fight.
Abi felt no pain. All of the pent up turmoil she’d had when she’d arrived was gone, leaving a peace only fighting provided. The walk back to the locker room was a blur as she accepted the congratulations and handshakes through the crowd. The flashing strobe light and bright colors made it hard to concentrate with her body still shaking on that high she lived for. Her heart still raced and her mind was doing a slow motion recap of each move she’d made. Critiquing her performance at an insane repetitive mental tape after each fight was a tick, but one that had helped her rise to the top faster than most. She was more brutal on herself than any coach she’d ever had. In her mind, there was always room for improvement. It made her train harder, longer, and grapple until her body collapsed.
Once showered and changed, Abi hopped on her bike. The throbs and burns began to seep through as her high faded, her eyelid swelling bigger than a golf ball. Now, she needed alcohol. The thought of heading out to the local watering hole didn’t entice her in the least. Fending off half drunk men with her mind still in fight mode would only land her in trouble. It wasn’t her safety she was worried about, but theirs. Killing someone by accident because she hadn’t had time to leash her temper wasn’t something she wanted to go to prison for.
With her helmet in place, she hit the throttle, blazing down the road to the one place she knew the drinks would flow cheap and endlessly—the clubhouse.
Chapter Three
Bikes, trucks, and cars alike flooded the parking lot, making it difficult to find a spot where her bike wouldn’t get knocked over by a drunk ass bimbo who drank her night away after being rejected by every cock in the club. Abi shook her head, disgusted that some women would sink so low. She may be born in poverty and raised in a shack with furniture and clothing they’d found in a dumpster or stole before her brother had gone back to the Savages in their dad’s footsteps, but there was no way in hell she’d ever use her pussy to up herself in life. When her parents were alive, they’d always had what they needed and more. Their passing had handed the responsibilities over to a teen and that is when they’d learned what hard times were. His returning to the Savages family for them meant they'd have security once again. Now, neither life nor bikers would make her fall on her back as a meal ticket. She lived the life she chose, and anyone who got in her way would pay the price.
With a shake of her head she parked, pulling her helmet off a little too carelessly. Her head throbbed violently, the pain hitting her like a brick wall. She waited until her vision cleared and made a beeline for the bar. ‘Ol José’ never let her down. She didn’t stop to talk, the bulging knots forming on her face and jawline, had her storming by the few who noticed her arrival at least until she had bottle in hand. Skipping the pleasantries of a shot glass, she tipped it up, chugging until the liquid burned her stomach. With a grin and the ease of liquid pain reliever all ready washing over her, she propped her ass on a bar stool and continued to nurse it until the warmth spread through her body.
Tonka had been contemplating skipping the party and heading back to drink himself to sleep when he’d caught the hurricane that blew through the door. Her normal suave was missing. Instead, Abi was beat up pretty good, not stopping for her normal greetings. Humph. What the hell got ahold of her? Or should I say, how bad is the other woman? he snickered.
He watched her grab the same bottle he ran to on a bad night as she bypassed her empty glass and chugged more than a biker could in one swallow. “Well now, it looks like we aren’t the only ones who had a hell of a ride tonight,” he said to Digs as he walked in her direction. He moved cautiously, unsure how her reaction would be to his approach. She didn’t look like she needed any more trouble tonight and he was pretty damn sure once Sledge caught sight of her face he’d demand she go straight home. But then again, Sledge would try to get her to go home period. This just gave him motive. For some reason he couldn’t put his finger on, he didn’t want her to go. Not yet anyway.
Tonka had been around Abi more than some of the others during her upbringing, being Sledge’s closest friend since grade school and even lived with him for a time. He’d been there when she started her period and helped her pick out the right woman products to fit her needs, and held the shotgun to ward off the swarm of boys that came calling just before she was shipped off to her first boarding school. Her slender frame had already begun to fill out and the body of a woman taking shape through the lanky kid she once was, he didn’t blame them for trying.
Now, Abi was a knockout—pure and simple, living up to her last name. With a bad attitude and hair as dark as night, the sparkle in her dark eyes shimmered brighter than the fullest of moons. He didn’t have any intention in pursuing her other than brotherly like. Ever. She was Abi for shit’s sake. And yet, here he was having to remind himself time and time again as he closed the short six feet that separated them.
Unlike all of the other women he’d been around, she had confidence. Not the snotty ‘I wanna get fucked’ kind, but different. More. Powerful. It intrigued him. Even his own mother hadn’t carried herself the way this young woman did. She’d already managed to give Yo Neg a run for his money and had him all but crying into a pint of Ben and Jerry’s like a heartbroken sixteen-year-old girl. Yo Neg might not think anyone picked up on it, but he had, and enjoyed seeing the man’s confusion and conflict. He’d known him way too long not to see that this one woman had him off his game and turning backwards to figure her out. For a man who’d never experienced a single emotion in his life except anger, it was good for him.
“Hittin’ it hard. Anything you need to tell me?” he asked, taking the bottle from her. Before she could grab it back, he tipped it up, swigging hard enough the bubbles rolled to the bottom of the bottle. “Mmm. Cheap shit, gotta love it,” he grinned and handed it back to her.
Abi took the bottle, eyeing him curiously. Tonka wasn’t one to give a fuck about others, but she knew he’d self—declared himself into the ‘older brother’ role the moment she started to show signs of being a female. It’d been hard considering she’d crushed on him as far back as she could remember, but his persistence had kept her from being hung up for too long. It wasn’t like once she’d started developing that she was deprived of male attention. In fact, it was the latter. Teachers, neighbors, the fathers of her friends…she’d learned early on how to defend herself against their pedophile ways and was what drove her to her first karate classes when she was fourteen. No one had ever raped her per say, but only because she was brought up around the MC way of life, even if Sledge did try his best to separate her from it all. Without diving too deep into the recesses of her fucked up childhood, she took another drink. “Yep. I guess someone staked claim on the Patrón already,” she grinned.
“Yeah, Tonto keeps the top shelf put up. But, with a crowd like this, do you blame him?” He propped himself on the barstool next to her, leaning over to get the bag of unopened chips
and opened them. “Want some?”
She shook her head, her eyebrows arching. “What’s wrong with the bowl?” she said, pointing to the large plastic bowl in front of them.
“No germs. I know no one’s cock sweat or pussy juice is in this,” he laughed, shoving a handful into his mouth.
Abi shook her head. “Makes sense. I damn sure don’t want rat shit in my food.” Abi pointed to Jody, one of the nastiest rats that hung around the parties. “Need I say more?”
“Ugh. That one is a walking health department. Nappy ass hoe,” he shook his head. Tonka observed the woman, cringing. Jody was a dirty blonde that screamed skank. She fell all over the guys, desperate for attention. She was pathetic, and made his cock shrivel. “Rayne got a piece of her awhile back. I laughed my ass off.”
“Rayne did? She doesn’t seem like the fighting type.” Abi glanced over in the corner where she was seated between Sandman and Tonto swigging on some fufu drink.
“Oh, don’t let her sweet posterior fool you. That one’s one little rose I wouldn’t mess with. You should talk to her. I think you two would hit it off.”
“I’m not in the market for a BFF to go shopping with and get my nails done, but thanks.” Abi wasn’t much for friends period.
Tonka laughed. “She’s not either.”
“So what, you in the friend match game now? You get a demotion I didn’t know about?” Her tone came out a little more snippy than she’d intended but shrugged it off. She hadn’t asked him to join her to begin with. She was perfectly content spending the evening with José. Plus, the way she looked at it, all bikers had a bad attitude. If he found her offensive, then maybe he needed to join a bowling league or canasta group with some of the ritzy bitches down at the country club instead of being here.
Burned by Abi (Devil Savages MC Book 2) Page 3
