by Chiah Wilder
But then there it was again, like a light rustling coming from across the street. She’d opened the window after their amazing lovemaking to cool them down and they’d fallen asleep. Again.
There isn’t a wind tonight.
She rolled out of Muerto’s embrace and crept to the window. Looking out, she stared at the trees across the street. Wait. What’s that? Is that a person? Oh fuck! Her eyes flew to Muerto. He still slept. Rubbing her eyes, she focused her attention back to the window.
Is there something… someone out there? Can he see me? She jumped away and plastered herself against the wall next to the window. Furtively, she peeked out. In the night, the trees looked like men crouching down and staring at her. The minutes ticked into an hour. This is insane. I’m letting my imagination get the best of me. I must be seeing things. She shut the window and closed the curtain, then headed back to bed. Snuggling against Muerto, she closed her eyes and tried to sleep, his arm wrapped around her, cocooning her in his warmth and protection. As she began to drift to sleep, a car engine pierced the quiet. Before her foggy brain could make sense of it, sleep finally came.
Chapter Twenty-Three
On a dark and moonless night, at three thirty in the morning, a black pickup truck pulled behind the Climax Lounge. In the cab was a small container of commercial fertilizer—ammonium nitrate—and diesel oil that had been mixed earlier at the clubhouse.
Army, Eagle, Chains, and Goldie had stolen the fertilizer from a storage area on the Granby Farm about forty miles from Alina the night before. The lack of security and the pathetically small padlock on the storage room door made the theft almost too easy.
Army was adept at making bombs. He’d been an Explosive Ordnance Disposal—EOD—technician while he’d been in the military. During his eight-year stint, he’d served both in Afghanistan and Iraq, handling bombs built in factories as well as those built by individuals. When he’d come back from the war, bitter and used up, he found solace in the Night Rebels MC. The men there understood his pain, his hardness, his hatred. They shared a common bond of insurgency against authority, and Army’s forte in bomb making was an asset the club welcomed.
Muerto drove the black pickup on the quiet streets. On a weeknight, the town normally rolled up at about ten o’clock, making covert operations much easier to pull off. The plan was simple: disengage the security system if there was one, break into the club, place the bomb inside, and detonate it from a safe distance. Army had used a blasting cap and detonation cord, with a coffee maker timer. He’d attached the speaker of a cell phone to a relay that applied the current needed for the detonation cord. When the cell phone rang, the current to the speaker would actuate the relay, which would then energize the cord. The spark would set off the bomb, and the strip bar would be destroyed.
Not wanting to damage other businesses in the area, the container used had enough power to shake down some walls, but it was the fire it would start that would burn the place down to the ground. And if Sheriff Wexler acted the way the Night Rebels suspected he would, he’d delay putting out the fire until the building was irreparably damaged.
Jigger and Brutus had been scouting the place all night to make sure no one was in the building; the goal was to destroy it, not kill anyone. If Satan’s Pistons retaliated, however, all bets were off and war between the rival MCs would ensue.
Pulling over to the curb on the backside of the building, Muerto killed the engine. He and Skull got out of the truck and made their way to Brutus and Jigger, who stood in the shadows of the bar.
“You figure out how to disengage the security cameras?” Muerto asked as his eyes darted from the various ones in the parking lot.
“The cheap fucks don’t have them connected,” Jigger said.
“What a bunch of losers,” Muerto said. “Makes our job a helluva lot easier.”
Army and Eagle came over. “We good with the security system?” Eagle said.
“Lazy, cheap fucks only have the cameras for show,” Brutus said. The men chuckled.
“We ready to move?” Army asked as he glanced around the dark streets. The men nodded, then quietly went back to their respective posts.
Muerto moved the pickup into the parking lot, right up against the back doors, and jumped out of the truck. In less than ten minutes the back doors swung open, and he motioned for his brothers to bring the container into the building. Without talking, they moved quickly and stealthily, and in less than fifteen minutes, they were out of the building and driving away. As they turned down a dirt road, Muerto heard the blast. It wasn’t a thunderous, showy boom, just a small rumble echoing in the darkness. The brothers made their way to the clubhouse where they would burn their gloves. Diablo would take the truck to Junkyard Blues and have it crushed the following day.
And life would go on.
* * *
The headlines in the Alina Daily Journal read “Massive Blast Destroys Strip Bar,” and a picture in full color showed the Climax Lounge burning, plumes of black smoke billowing out of the windows and roof.
Muerto drank his coffee and scarfed down his eggs and bacon as he read the article. “It says that ‘Wexler and the fire department have concluded that a gas pipe broke, causing the blast. We’re fortunate no other businesses sustained any damages in the area. And it’s also lucky that the explosion occurred after the bar had closed so no one was hurt. From the looks of it, the club is severely damaged.’ Fuckin’ right it is. When we do shit, we do it right.” Muerto shoveled in another forkful of food.
Sangre and Skull, sitting with Muerto, laughed. “We can always count on good ol’ Wexler as long as we’re doing his work,” Sangre said as he tugged the paper away from Muerto.
Muerto pushed his chair back from the table. “I keep telling Steel we need to charge the badge when we clean up shit on his watch.”
“There’s no way Wexler’s paying us a visit after saying that ‘gas pipe broke’ shit. But the important thing is that the Satan’s Pistons will know this was a message from us to stay the fuck out of our territory. And if they don’t like it, they can come for us,” Skull said. Several members in the large room agreed and chanted, “Death to Satan’s Pistons.”
Muerto nodded. “Those fuckers better stay in Arizona. I gotta get to the pool hall.” He jerked his chin at his brothers and went out into the bright August sun.
When he entered Balls and Holes, Brandy, Jaime, and Zach were all talking about the explosion at the Climax Lounge. Several patrons had moseyed up to the bar and joined in on the discussion.
“I don’t believe the gas pipe breaking story for one minute,” Brandy said.
“Why not?” Muerto asked her.
“The place was a dive. I’ll bet anything that after they do a full investigation, they’ll find out it was arson. The owners probably wanted the insurance money.” Brandy beamed when several people agreed with her.
“Don’t you think the sheriff would’ve not said anything if they suspected arson? I mean, I would think a broken gas pipe is pretty easy to spot,” Jaime said, and the same people who agreed with Brandy agreed with Jaime.
“It was a dive anyway, so it’s no big deal,” one of the customers said. “It was nothing like Lust.”
“What do you think, Muerto?” Jaime asked.
He shrugged. “I didn’t think much about it. And the way the government is, they may have blown it up and are just covering their tracks.”
“A true conspiracy theorist.” Brandy laughed.
“Just the way I see it.” Muerto went over to a box of liquor bottles and starting pulling them out.
After half an hour or so of rehashing the destruction of the strip bar, Brandy turned to Muerto, who’d been feigning concentration in getting the bar stocked and the receipts counted. “Are you still going out with the famous pool shark?”
He bristled. “Her name’s Raven, and yeah, I am.”
“That’s a record for you, isn’t it?” Brandy winked at Jaime, who blushed.
> “You tell me. You seem to be the one keeping track.” Muerto crossed his arms.
“I’m just joking with you. I think it’s great you have a girlfriend.”
“She’s your girlfriend?” Jaime asked.
Muerto shook his head. “Why the fuck is this any of your business?” he questioned as he looked at each woman. “I don’t give a fuck who you date, so don’t get involved with my personal life.”
“We’re just joking, honest. Aren’t we, Jaime?” Brandy looked at her, then Muerto. Jaime nodded.
“That’s enough,” Muerto said, dismissing them. When he crouched down to pull out some supplies from a cupboard, he heard Brandy say, “He’s got it bad for this one. I’ve never seen him act this way. I wonder what she has that we don’t.”
He snorted. A fuckin’ brain.
“You want these tequila and Johnnie Walker bottles unpacked?” Zach asked Muerto.
“Nah. Take them to the back.”
“What does a girl have to do to get a drink around here?” Raven’s soft voice wrapped around him, and he spun around.
“Hey, sweetie. What brings you to the pool hall so early?” He leaned over and kissed her. “You want a shot?”
She laughed. “Not this early. How about some coffee with cream? I came into town to do a few errands. I heard that Henny’s was having a huge sale on all their fabrics, buttons, and lace, so I had to check it out. I got some good stuff.” She accepted the mug he handed her and took a sip. “Good coffee.” She smiled at him.
“I didn’t expect to see you this early. What a delicious surprise.” He leaned over and kissed her again, his hand on the back of her head, tugging her closer to his face. He wanted to take her in the back and fuck her good and hard.
“Nice. I missed you last night,” she whispered against his lips.
“Me too, babe.” He kissed her again.
“When I heard the explosion, it scared the crap out of me. I didn’t know what the hell was going on. Did you hear it?”
“Not really. The clubhouse is a ways from the town. I read about it in the paper.”
“Yeah. I guess it was a strip bar that burned down. I never heard of it.”
“It was a dump. No real loss.”
For the rest of the morning, they chatted as he worked. When Cory and his buddy came in, they just glared at Raven, but they played a few games, had a couple of beers, and left without incident. As the afternoon hit, Raven stood up and stretched. “I think I’ll take in a yoga class before I head home. It’ll be a nice break before I spend the rest of the day making jewelry like a madwoman. I have that upcoming show in Cortez, so I have to bulk up my inventory.”
“I’ll be over after my shift. Crow’s on tonight. I’ll grill a couple of steaks and we’ll have a good dinner before I show you how much I missed you.”
“Sounds like a great plan. I’ll stop by the grocery store after yoga.” She turned toward the door and then stopped, her body rigid, her eyes wide.
Muerto looked at the door and saw a muscular guy with short light brown hair just inside the doorway. The man’s eyes were locked on Raven. “Who the fuck is that?”
Before she answered, the man walked over to her. “Hi, Raven.” His gaze swept over her. “You’re looking good.”
“Thanks.” She took a step backward.
“Lucky for me that I came in here for a drink.”
“You don’t fool me for a second, Brent. Are you stalking me or something?”
Brent. That name. Wait… that’s her fuckin’ ex. Sonofabitch is outta here. “You need to stop bothering her.” Muerto’s voice had an edge in it.
“It’s okay. I can handle this,” she said to him.
“This is between me and Raven. You’re not involved.” Brent glanced back at Raven.
Licks of anger whipped over Muerto. “The fuck I’m not involved. She’s my woman.” As he spoke, he walked out from behind the bar and came close to her.
Jerking his head back, Brent looked from Muerto to Raven. “You’re dating this guy?”
Raven leaned against Muerto’s arm. “That’s right.”
“Get the fuck outta here. Now.” Muerto clenched his fist.
“You can’t throw me out. I haven’t done anything wrong. You don’t own this place.”
“Actually, he does,” she said in a soft voice.
“You’re outta here.” With one quick blow, Muerto’s fist landed on Brent’s jaw.
Brent’s eyes widened in genuine shock. As Muerto went in for another blow, he stepped back, his head shaking. “I don’t want any trouble. I just came in to say hi to an old friend, that’s all.” He walked out, but as he passed the window, he stopped for a few seconds and glared at Raven before moving on.
“The guy’s a pussy,” Muerto snarled.
“You know, I could’ve handled it. You can’t just go around punching every guy who talks to me.”
“Why not? I knew the fucker was gonna give you some shit, so I stopped it before it happened.”
She wrapped her arms around his waist. “I know, but sometimes you have to trust me to take care of myself.”
“Not gonna happen. If I’m around and someone’s bugging you, I’m punching his fuckin’ lights out. I don’t see the problem.”
Smiling, she brushed her lips against his. “You’re the best. I’ll see you tonight.”
He walked her to her car and had her promise to call him when she got home after her yoga class. As she drove away, he felt a strange sense of emptiness. Being with her made him happy. He’d never really hung with a woman beyond their moments of carnal pleasure; wanting to hang out with Raven was a new sensation for him. And the feelings he had for her were real and steady.
He walked back inside knowing the time would drag until they were together again. For the first time, a woman occupied his mind. He was addicted to her voice, her laugh, her scent, her sexiness, and he thought she was the most wonderful, perfect person he’d ever met. And the thing that blew his mind was that he loved feeling that way. She lit up his life like a fireball.
I’m definitely falling for her.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The following morning, Muerto kissed Raven deeply, then went out to his Harley. Looking back before he turned the corner, he saw her standing behind the screen door watching him ride away. Knowing that she didn’t just close the door and start her day when he left gave him a warm glow.
Pulling up to the curb in front of the pool hall, he killed the engine and walked up to the front door. Before he turned the key, he could see the mess inside the place. What the fuck? He rushed in. The room was a disaster: broken glasses and bottles strewn all over the bar and floor, sliced-up pool tables, graffiti everywhere. He stood frozen for a few seconds surveying the mess. Red paint sprayed on all the walls read “You’re dead.”
Adrenaline rushed through his body, and a deep urge for vengeance consumed him. Picking up a chair from the floor, he hurled it across the room. “Fuck!” He whipped out his phone and called Steel.
“The pool hall’s been trashed. It’s a goddamn mess.”
“Did you set the alarm last night?” Steel asked.
“Crow closed up, but I’m sure he did.”
“Crow had an emergency, so he left early. Who closed?”
“I don’t know, but whoever did would’ve set the alarm.” A low thud came from the hallway. “Hang on. I hear something,” Muerto said as he reached in his cut and took out his Glock 9mm. Walking with deliberate steps, he quietly entered the hallway. When he passed the utility closet, he heard low moans and soft knocking.
“Someone’s in here. I gotta go,” he said to Steel.
“Take care. The brothers are on their way.”
Muerto put the phone in his pocket and slowly turned the doorknob. It was locked. More moaning, then sobbing. A woman’s in there. He put the key in the lock and turned it, opening the door. Jaime was on the floor and she looked up at him, wild-eyed. Her hair was disheveled, her blo
use was torn, blood and tears streaked her face, and her nails were broken.
“What the fuck happened, Jaime?” Muerto bent down and the broken woman clung to him, sobbing, relief etched on her face. He pulled her up from the floor and, with his arm wrapped around her, led her to the main room. He picked up a chair and set it straight, then helped her into it.
“I’m so glad you came,” she said haltingly.
Coming back from the bar with a bottle of water, he sighed. “What happened here?”
She took the water and drank in large gulps. Staring vacantly, she said in a monotone, “It was horrible. Just horrible.”
“What was?” He sat in a chair next to hers. “Just tell me about it. No one can hurt you. I’m here.”
Another few gulps of water, and color began to come back on her face. “I was the one who ended up closing last night. Zach was supposed to, but his girlfriend had another one of her meltdowns, so he left at eleven thirty. No one was in the place and I was kinda spooked to be there alone, so I decided to close early.” She finished her water. “Can I have another one, please?”
“Of course.” He went over to the bar. Zach’s ass is fired for sure. He knows not to leave Brandy or Jaime alone at night. Fuck him. “Here you go.”
She took the opened bottle and drank deeply. “Anyway, as I went to lock the door, two men with bandanas over their faces pushed in. One of them was real tall, and he hit me across the face and asked for money. I told him all the money had been taken to the bank, but he called me a liar. The shorter guy pushed me and told me I better show him some money or he’d kill me.” Tears welled in her eyes. “Then he took a gun out. I was so scared.” She hung her head down and Muerto put his hand on hers. She looked up. “I gave it to him. There was about five hundred dollars in the drawer. Crow had taken most of the money when he left at ten. I’m sorry, but I thought they were going to kill me.”
“No worries about the money. I’m just glad they didn’t kill you. Were they wearing leather jackets or vests?”
