by Adair Rymer
“What were you saying about deal-makers, Lo? Pop the fucking trunk.” I had us parked close because I figured time would be of the essence if we even made it this far.
“Don't be stupid, Remy. We got our differences but we're both Steel Veins. Can you really do this to a brother?”
“My brother is ventilated meat because the Veins lost their way,” I hissed at him. “The Steel Veins were great once. We had a fucking purpose! We protected our community. We didn't terrorize them.” There was a time when we would have known better than to loan money to a compulsive gambler like Star's uncle. There was no reason for us to have been there that night.
“There was honor in what we did. Back before we let cancer like you and Rio into the ranks. Now we're just greedy thugs,” I continued.
“What the fuck do you think you can do about it?” Lorenzo incredulously asked.
“I'm going to fix things.” I spat the words through gritted teeth.
Engines in the distance. Those Lobos were fast. I should've expected as much. With all the shit that's been going down today, I'm sure Bones has all the Lobos activated. Ready to put out fires or light some.
A backfiring engine foolishly caused my head to turn. In that split second, Lorenzo elbowed me in the jaw. As much as I disliked the man, he knew how to capitalize on an opportunity. He led a kill team for a reason. My fault, I deserved it. It was a good hit. I was staggered. Lorenzo reached into the trunk and pulled out the shotgun. When my vision returned I was staring down the bad end of it.
“You were gonna throw me in a trunk with a fucking shotgun?” Lorenzo smiled. “Looks like you wont be fixin' shit!” Lorenzo pulled the trigger.
Click.
He pumped it and fired again. Click. Nothing. I lunged in, blocked the shotgun wide and pistol whipped him. His nose exploded and he stumbled backward. Ignoring the pain he swung the shotgun like a bat. I wasn't fast enough and caught it in the side, easily cracking a few ribs. A well swung hit could do a lot more damage than you'd think. Lorenzo was no stranger to throwing down. Neither was I.
I used the rib strike's momentum to get around the side of him. Sinking down slightly, I drilled him in the chest with the barrel of my pistol. There was a deadening crack following the force of the blow. His sternum caved inward as he toppled into the open trunk. A wet, red flower immediately blossomed beneath his shirt. All the air rushed from his lungs like rats from a sinking ship.
I was immediately on top of him, raining down blow after vicious blow. When you have the upper hand in anything you never let up, especially with scum like him. It took incredible restraint but a few strikes after he went unconscious, I stopped myself from killing him. Torture, terror and murder were his favorite, and only, tools. I knew the kind of man Lorenzo was. What he would do to Star if given the chance. What he'd done to so many people. Had a worse fate not been in store for him, I'd have killed him right then. And the world would have been a little cleaner.
I'd be a fucking fool too keep a loaded shotgun in the trunk. The ammo was in the glove compartment. Not really the best of ideas but I knew it wouldn't get hot enough to cook them off.
Then I heard shots fired inside the club. Star! I slammed the trunk and hauled ass to the back door. The plan was to get Lorenzo out and sneak off when the Lobos were occupied with the rest of his team. Star was supposed to run outside when the Lobos showed up. She should've been out here way before any shooting happened. Please let her be ok.
Just before reaching the door the Lobos were on me. They parked all around, guns out and ready. They were screaming at me, mostly in Spanish. I wasn't listening, I was counting. I had just enough ammo. If I was lucky, I might be able to drop enough of them to duck inside before they killed me. It was a long shot but I would get to Star, I had to.
Never hesitate. I raised my gun to give them hell then the back door burst open. It was Star. One of the Lobos had her by the hair and shoved her outside. In Spanish, he told the other Lobos that Ginger said she came in with a man that was talking with Lorenzo.
She was ok, at least for the moment. I swallowed the planet lodged in my throat and took in some heavy breaths of relief. I dropped my gun.
It dawned on me fully how much I cared for this girl. Everything was second to her. When I thought she was in trouble, getting to her was the only thing that mattered. I was willing to take on a firing squad just to get in that door. Just to get to Star.
“Hey, who the fuck are you, Asshole? Where's Lorenzo and why're you running around strapped?” One of the bikers switched to English figuring we didn't know Spanish.
“He's gone. My name is Remy Daniels. I'm on the run from the Steel Veins. Take us to Bones, I have something he wants.”
* * * * *
The yellow and red brick building loomed before us like a military installation. High walls, barbed wire fence and gate. Separate attached garage bays. These guys weren't fucking around. I'd seen pictures, of course, but seeing it in person was always different. Our clubhouse was more inviting than this, if only barely. At least we didn't have bars over the windows.
The Beaner Hotel, what the Veins called it, wasn't always this fortified. They were raided by the Feds five years ago and since then they've beefed up on everything. The clubhouse, number of members, drug and gun running, public presence, everything. They were becoming a real threat to not only us but the Angels, too. I stayed current with all the US clubs and their support, especially the hostile ones. I knew the names of all the board members along with their various criminal histories.
A few Lobos had to leave their bikes at Teasers to drive us over. They didn't have any other passenger vehicles available so they had to take ours. I was put in the front seat and Star in the back of the Altima. I left out that Lorenzo was unconscious in the trunk and the fact that it was a stolen cop's car they now had in their parking lot. Might be able to use that little detail later if shit went tits up.
The front entrance was a giant, painted, yellow wolf head with glowing red eyes. The doors in the wolf's grinning mouth were jerked open. With the smoke and noise that cascaded out to meet us it was easy to imagine we'd been eaten by a great beast. In a lot of ways, we had been.
Just inside was the bar, booths, pool tables and a small army of Lobos. When Star walked in with her short skirt and top there was an explosion of catcalls. The worst ones were in Spanish. Rage bristled every hair on my body. Given half a chance, I’d grind them into so much steaming meat. Cut off their feet and see how well they stand. Bren's words forced me back into control. There would be a time for reckoning, but this wasn't it.
All noise fled from the room like air from a crypt when I walked in a few steps behind her. I locked eyes with every motherfucker in there before moving on. My seething anger was palpable and oppressive. Our heavy footfalls were a funeral march. Whose funeral it was hadn't been decided yet.
Star looked back at me, deep lines of concern wrinkled her soft, beautiful face. That churning tide inside me gave way enough for me to flash her a smile. Her tenseness lightened a small bit, which in turn allowed me to calm and focus more. I had no idea how all this was going to shake out but I knew one thing. Whatever happened, come hell or high water, when this was all over Star would be walking out those fucking doors.
In the next room was a darkened flat screen TV. I slowed to a stop at a familiar, inverted reflection of myself. It passively watched me through the black glass. I thought I'd killed that version of me in that Super 8 hotel room. Especially after Star miraculously showed up and saved me. But seeing the situation I'd put Star in now... I realized that it'd cost me much more than a few, ragged cuts on my knuckles and forearms to destroy that vast emptiness inside me. And until I did it was going to walk beside me everywhere I went.
I was shoved forward to catch up with the rest of the group. I know it was only my reflection but I couldn’t help but wonder what those knowing, hollow grey eyes saw in me. It was only recently that I started developing these lofty dreams
and hopes. Beneath all that I'm sure it was selfishness that it saw.
She shouldn't be here. Had everything gone as planned I'd have dropped her off at a motel before driving Lorenzo here. But when the fuck has anything gone exactly as planned? What the fuck was I thinking, allowing her to stay? I should have found another way to get Lorenzo here that didn't put her in this much danger. But I needed to be near her. I was selfish and she might pay the price for that.
They walked us past several other rooms— the kitchen, the hallway to lodging, a door to the basement. The few times I've been in situations like this, paying attention to every detail was the only way I made it out alive. Seeing Star roughly shoved around in front of me was incredibly distracting but for her sake, I had to put her out of my mind while I figured it all out. I didn't have the luxury of wallowing over my past mistakes. I needed to focus. One mistake now would get her killed.
I drew a mental map and formulated a plan while attempting to make sense of the function of each room as we passed. In one I saw a couple strapped to a chair, bloodied and crying. An obvious interrogation. Another had men checking and cleaning excessive amounts of heavy weapons. The Lobos were getting intel and were preparing for war. Being that the Lobos have always hated the Veins, I had a feeling that we were going to be their first target.
They stopped us outside the board room. I hadn't let on that I knew Spanish and overheard them talking about what they thought was going to happen to us on the drive over. It wasn't good. The Lobo that led us there knocked, opened the door and went in, closing it behind him.
“They're going to try to use you against me,” I whispered to Star. “For both our sakes, stay as passive as possible. I'll get us through this.”
“What are they going to do?” Star was worried.
“Shut the fuck up!” The Lobo behind jabbed me in the back with his shotgun buttstock. The force kicked me forward a step and riddled me with rib shaking pain. The door opened and we were brought in.
The men sat around a long mahogany table smoking and drinking. I'd researched all of the members as they stepped up to their positions. Spyder—Sargento De Armas. Wopo— Secretario, Abuello— Treasurer, Odd Six— Road Captain, Flaco— VP and of course, Bones— Lobos Presidente. The club was bastardized with Spanish and English terminology in not just titles but everything else as well.
“Poet, right? I hear your outdoors now. You must've done something pretty serious for the Veins to send a kill team after you.” Bones was first to speak. He was bald and wore a thin mustache. He had anatomic bones tattooed on his hands and forearms. Bones was a calm methodical man, not typically prone to sudden violence.
“I killed Rio, Deadeye's kid.” That raised some eyebrows.
He had Papa, one of the Lobos that brought us in, leave to call around for verification.
“Rio was next in line to step up. Why kill him? Lovers quarrel?” Bones took a sip of his beer.
“He was weak. Between him and his father, they turned the Veins into pussies.” I needed to start building trust and commonality with Bones.
“Deadeye's an old fool,” Bones agreed. “I was told you had something I want?”
I tapped my forehead. “A fool or not, Deadeye knows you're gearing up for war despite how quiet you've been lately. They're gunning for you. You give us asylum, I'll help you tear them apart. I know how and when they're going to hit you.”
“How would he know a thing like that?”
“The Veins have been around forever, Bones. They've got informants everywhere—” I looked skeptically around the room, sowing the seeds of discord. “—in every club. You have been expanding a lot lately. That must cut down on the time your boys spend as prospects. How well do you know your new patches?”
“And who's to say you're not completely full of shit?” Bones crossed his arms. He was steadfast but some of the officers looked concerned that what I might be saying was true. Were there snitches in their ranks? Who knows. But I would make them think there was.
“The Pick and Pay that went up last night, that was one of yours right? The Super 8 earlier today, any of your boys make it out of that alive? They're testing the water. Gauging your response time, man power, reach, tactics. They know there's a war coming and they want it on their terms.” All the events of the last twenty-four hours culminated in this.
This was a double cross. I didn't want asylum. For as much as I hated what we'd become, the Steel Veins would always be my family. I would never sell them out to the Lobos. But right now I needed the Lobos to think I would. “Reach out to your networks, you'll see that I'm right.”
Bones pondered on it for a long while. Everything I'd read online about him led me to believe he was a deliberate man who only took calculated risks. With him I'd have the best shot of getting Star to safety.
He began to speak when the doors were kicked open. All the officers were here, who'd dare just come in without knocking? I didn't bother turning around, I wanted to see Bones' reaction to the intrusion, to see how in control of the club he was. That was a mistake.
A cane struck the back of my knees, which followed with my swift face plant on the table from a boney old hand wrapped around my neck. I turned my head to the side in time to not shatter my nose but I came hard down on that mahogany.
I heard Star gasp and the last thing I saw before my vision blanked out was her hands covering her pretty face. All things considered, having her be the last thing I ever saw wasn't a bad way to go.
“Any of you pencil-dick fucks wanna tell me why the fuck this Steel Vein is still fuckin' breathing?”
“Been a long time, Roughneck. We were just hearing him out.” Flaco, a short, thin man like his namesake, offered hesitantly.
No shit. John “Roughneck” Mitchim. The founder of Los Lobos was apparently still alive and well. He'd stepped down almost a decade ago due to health problems then fell off the map. I'd written him off as dead. Men in this line of work didn't tend to live as long as Roughneck had. He was short tempered and had a chip on his shoulder after being kicked out of the Steel Veins back in the seventies.
John created Los Lobos with the Mexicans because they weren't allowed to join up either. There was a time where all the clubs were pretty racist but a lot has changed since then. Now it's mostly about being vouched for rather than skin color. Otherwise, my buddy Tee never would've been allowed in. The Aryans were still old world believers though. Fucking tiny-dick, skin heads have always been on the wrong side of history.
“Let him up. He's our guest. For now.” It was good to see Bones had some balls. “He wants protection in exchange for helping us take down the Steel Veins.”
“Only good fuckin' Steel Veins a dead fuckin' Steel Vein. We kill em then we rip em out! I don't give two pulls of my withered pecker fer what he says he's gonna do fer us!” Looks like Roughneck survived long enough to completely lose his goddamned mind. Maybe the health problems that forced him to step down were actual insanity.
“I'm sorry, Bones, I thought you were El Presidente de Los Lobos? Else I wouldn't have come to Santa Fe. I'm sure the Angels wouldn't have minded if I swung by for a visit.” I hoped some prodding would bolster Bones' position. They hated the Angels almost as much as the Veins.
“John.” Bones' tone finally carried the weight of his position. Calling Roughneck by his birth name like that was a show of dominance.
“...Fine” Roughneck let me go. I could've stood up anytime I wanted but this was a delicate matter. I needed to be let up. He was old and crooked to one side. His wore his long, straggly hair beneath a worn bandana and let his frayed beard remain wild and unkempt. Hate and habit were the only things that kept Roughneck vertical.
The room was eggshells. The officers didn't know how to act around Roughneck so they kept their mouths shut and deferred to Bones. I rose and spit out a thick wad of blood and phlegm onto the floor.
“But he don't need the fuckin' whore fer his jaws to flap.” John's gnarled fingers grabbed Star
's hair, jerking her down to his bent level. Star screamed at the abruptness.
“She's part of the deal.” My words raced his knife, barely halting him from slicing her throat then and there. I looked directly at Bones, no one else. I would only deal with him, further limiting Roughneck's authority.
Bones held up a hand as his cell rang. He answered. The conversation was brief, then he addressed the room. “Rio's dead. Looks like Poet's telling the truth. Roughneck's right, though. What can she offer us?”
Roughneck laughed, tugging at the bow that kept Star's shirt closed. He attempted to loosen the fabric completely but couldn't get her with just the one hand. Star was a smart girl. She'd knotted it on the drive over, just in case. Roughneck would have to use both hands to untangle the knot. I hoped he'd try. With the knife lowered, I'd have been able to drop him before anyone could stop me.
Everyone looked at Star. Her eyes went wider than I'd ever seen. Of course she didn't know what to say. With the cold edge of a blade to her throat she had trouble drawing in full breaths. She was still present though. If I told her something she would at least hear it and be able to act. Any other girl I knew, and most guys for that matter, would be catatonic in her heels.
“No.” I pulled out a cigarette, took my time to light it and get a drag out before continuing. They were trying to make me feel rushed. “Let her be and I'll give you something much better.” I took another pull. “I'll give you Lorenzo.”
Caballo cursed in Spanish before switching to English. “Lorenzo escaped before we got there.”
“What do you want more, some innocent girl's blood staining everything, or the man who tried to kill your cousin? You harm her and my lips are sealed.” I casually took another puff.
“Where is he?” Bones was skeptical.
“We got a deal?” I asked.
“A life for a life.” Bones agreed.
“On your word?” It wasn't the best way to do business but my sleeves were running out of aces. At least there were witnesses. I could call him out on his honor, if necessary.
