Wheelie’s Challenge

by Chiah Wilder

“That’s the place Stanley Nettles used to run, right?” Wheelie took a sip of his Jack.

  “Yeah, with his wife, Judy.”

  “He’s the one who croaked while Layla was giving him a VIP lap dance,” Throttle said.

  “That’s right,” Wheelie replied. “He’s the dude who used to come into Dream House all the time. He was crazy for the strippers and private dances.”

  “Don’t you fuck his old lady?” Animal asked, pulling out a joint. “Want one?” he asked the group, and Wheelie nodded, taking it from him.

  “I fuck her now, but not when she was married. When her old man died, she totally transformed, and now she looks damn hot,” Smokey said, grabbing a joint out of his cut.

  “Like a butterfly coming out of a cocoon,” Puck added.

  “You’re damn poetic,” Smokey replied, and the men laughed. “Anyway, I bumped into her six months ago at Blue’s Belly. I stopped by because Eric wanted to do some remodeling at the bar. She was there with some of her friends, and when she came up to the bar to say hi, I felt my cock jump. After a few hours of drinking and dancing, I took her home and ended up spending several days between her legs.”

  “You still fuck her?” Wheelie asked.

  “Yeah.” Smokey lit up his joint.

  “She’s not pushing you into a relationship? I can’t see you committing to just one woman,” Throttle said.

  “Nah, Judy’s cool. After being married to Stanley, she tells me she’s had her fill of marriage and just wants to have fun. I do too, so it works out. From what she says, her old man was a real asshole.” Smokey chuckled. “Judy’s one hot woman, and fuck if she doesn’t know how to please a man. She’s about ten years older than me, and she’s got some experience. That’s all I’m gonna say.”

  “She’s forty?” Puck scratched his shaved head, and Smokey nodded. “Damn, she looks real fine.”

  “Is she cool about keeping her mouth shut when we pay this fucker a visit?” Wheelie asked.

  “Yep. I already told her we’re interested in one of the guests. Judy said that as long as we keep it clean and don’t do any shit that’ll bring the fuckin’ badges breathing down her back, she’s good.” Smokey rested his elbows on the bar.

  “It’s your call,” Throttle said, his gaze meeting Wheelie’s.

  “Let me think about the best way we can do this. We’ll go over there in a few hours.” He turned to Puck. “Can you keep an eye on him, and let me know if he leaves?”

  “Yeah. When Smokey and me were watching the bastard, it seemed like the fucker didn’t like the hot weather. This dude, Elmore, must’ve been a dumb fuck and gave him too much money up front because the bastard is a lazy ass. He’s not working too hard in finding you.”

  “Elmore is an asshole, so it makes sense that he’d pair up with a lazy, dumbass bastard.” Wheelie finished his beer. “What’s his name?”

  “Tucker Morris.” Puck grinned. “I had Hawk check it out, and the dipshit used his real name. He was in San Quentin so that’s probably where Elmore met him. He was doing time for armed robbery.”

  “Hawk knows about this?” Wheelie asked.

  Throttle tilted his head. “Yeah. He said that if we need more brothers in on this to let him know. Banger’s down with it too.”

  Warmth spread through Wheelie at Throttle’s words, reinforcing his love of the brotherhood; they were truly his family. The members fought and stood by each other, no matter what, and citizens just couldn’t understand the bond the members shared. To them, bikers were criminals in leather, riding motorcycles and pointing their middle finger at law enforcement. They just don’t get it, including Mom. Family wasn’t about the blood Wheelie shared, it was about those willing to bleed for him and him for them.

  “Then we’ll wait for your call?” Puck said, breaking into Wheelie’s thoughts.

  “Yeah. Figure it’ll be in a few hours. I gotta take care of some stuff at the car wash.”

  “I’ll get over to the motel and let you know if the asshole leaves.” Puck finished his drink, bumped fists with his brothers then left.

  “I’m gonna head out,” Wheelie said to the others. “I’ll text you when we’re ready to roll.”

  “Sounds good,” Smokey said as Throttle and Animal grunted their agreement.

  When Wheelie arrived at the car wash, the lines waiting to get into the parking lot were around the block. He hurriedly went inside and noticed the throngs of customers crowding around the store. Wheelie went behind the counter and opened up the second cash register.

  “You should’ve called me for backup,” he said to Jada as he took the ticket from one of the customers.

  “Sorry. I didn’t want to bother you. Animal told me you guys had church, and I know how serious that is for all of you.”

  “Next time, just send me a text—no matter what.”

  For the next hour, Wheelie helped Jada with the front counter until Melinda walked in and took over. He went into his office and closed his door. He looked at his phone and noticed a couple of texts from Sofia. Wheelie had been so busy, he didn’t even hear his phone ping.

  Sofia: R u still in church? I’m dying here.

  Sofia: It’s been over an hour since my text. R u still an Insurgent?

  Wheelie scrubbed his face. I need to stay away until she leaves Tigger, but how the fuck can I do that? Sighing, he tapped in his response.

  Wheelie: Still in the brotherhood. Hawk gave me a break.

  A ping came almost immediately after he hit SEND as if Sofia had been doing nothing but waiting for some word from him.

  Sofia: Whew!! I can’t believe Hawk did that. He’s always scared the hell out of me. He seems so hard and unbending.

  Wheelie threw his head back and guffawed. All the old ladies were scared of Hawk, way more than they were of Banger.

  Wheelie: He’s cool.

  Sofia: I saw the lawyer Cara hooked me up with. She’s super nice.

  Wheelie: And …?

  Sofia: I’m filing for divorce! I’m packing my stuff and leaving tonight. Belle said I can stay with her. Cheri and Addie offered too. Tigger texted me & said he’s coming home tomorrow nite.

  A jolt of happiness shot through Wheelie.

  Wheelie: I got some shit I gotta take care of, but after that I can come over later to help u move.

  Sofia: I’m just packing my things today. U can help me move tomorrow morning. R we going to see each other tonite? I want to.

  Wheelie stared at the text for a few seconds as his brain battled with his feelings.

  Wheelie: K. We can go for food. U wanna meet me at Le Crystal. Do u know it?

  The restaurant was on the outskirts of town, nestled in a valley. It was known for its discretion and was the go-to place for clandestine meetings.

  Sofia: Yeah. What time?

  Wheelie glanced at the time: 11:00 am.

  Wheelie: Does 7:30 work?

  Sofia: Perfect!

  Wheelie: Whatever u do, don’t tell Tigger or any brother about u leaving. Especially Tigger.

  Sofia: I won’t. The lawyer told me not to do it either. I better get packing. See u at 7:30.

  Wheelie: Later, babe.

  Wheelie tapped in Axe’s number and doodled on a blank invoice while he waited for him to pick up the phone.

  “Yo,” Axe said.

  “Hey. I need your help. Do you still have a decent supply of oxycodone?”

  “For private use or for sale?”

  “To get rid of fuckin’ scum.”

  “Are you talking about that asshole who’s gunning for you?”

  “You got it. He’s staying at the Manor Inn, and I don’t want to have the fuckin’ badges up Judy’s ass. I thought about bringing him to the club, but I think forcing him to drink a lethal cocktail makes it all cleaner. How many milligrams you got?”

  “I got them from ten … to a hundred and sixty mgs.”

  “They go for about one or two bucks per mg, right?”

  “No worries. It’
s on the house. What do you need?”

  “Give me three one-hundred-sixties. You have free car washes for a year. Thanks, bro.”

  “I can bring them over. I’m passing by your shop. I’ll be there in an hour.”

  “I’ll see you then.”

  * * *

  A 1950’s styled motel, the Manor Inn was timeworn but charming. It sat back amid a cluster of pine and evergreen trees, almost hidden to the old highway that ran parallel to it. Smokey walked back from the office, a bright orange keychain dangling from his fingers.

  “Room 24. It’s the last one on the right. Judy would rather we use the key instead of kicking the door in.”

  Wheelie, Throttle, Puck, and Animal laughed. “Yeah, right,” Animal said.

  “You can fix her fuckin’ door,” Wheelie said to Smokey. “Let’s get this shit over with.” Wheelie walked slowly toward the room, his eyes scanning the deserted parking lot. Judy had told Smokey the motel had no vacancy, and Wheelie was glad that it was early enough that the other guests—most likely tourists, were still exploring the town and the surrounding areas.

  The door muffled deep grunts and moans from inside the room. At first Wheelie thought the bastard had a woman with him, but Puck shook his head indicating he hadn’t seen anyone enter the room. Loud squealing and breathlessness could be heard—“Ooooh, you’re so big. Put that huge cock in me. Yes! Yes!”—as it filtered under the crack in the door.

  The asshole’s jerking off to porn. Wheelie grabbed the key from Smokey. There was no way the douchebag was going to hear the click of the lock. Wheelie inserted the key and quietly turned it. With one hand he grasped the knob, and with the other, he raised his fingers: one … two … three. The door opened with only the slightest creak, but the hired killer didn’t hear it. He had his eyes glued to the screen, grunting and sweating and forcefully going at his dick while watching a man pummel a woman’s ass.

  Animal went over to the television and turned it off. The man’s hand dropped down on the mattress, and his eyes bugged out as confusion spread over his face.

  Puck closed the door, cutting off the sunshine that had spilled into the room a few seconds before.

  Standing right beside the bed, Wheelie bent down and slid his hand under the pillow and retrieved a 9mm Glock. Pointing it at the man with the now flaccid dick, Wheelie sneered. “I heard you’ve been looking for me.”

  Tucker’s eyes darted to each of the looming men then they fixed on Wheelie. “No, I think you’re mistaken.” He tried to get up, but Wheelie pushed him back down on the mattress and pillows.

  “Cut the bullshit. Who hired you?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Throttle came over with a pair of pliers. “We don’t have time for this fuckin’ shit. Each lie you tell, you lose a tooth. Seems fair.”

  “Seems fair to me too,” Puck said as he came over to the other side of Tucker and grabbed his arm.

  Animal pinned down the man’s other arm and Throttle straddled him. “Let’s try this again. My brother is asking who the fuck hired you.”

  Glancing at the pliers, Tucker tried to pull away but Puck and Animal had him in a strong hold.

  “Open his mouth,” Throttle said.

  Smokey hit Tucker in the balls as the man gasped then grabbed hold of his upper and lower lips and held them open. “Do what you gotta do, dude.”

  Throttle came in close, the pliers opening as they went toward Tucker’s mouth. The man thrashed his head as low guttural sounds came from his throat.

  “Sounds like the sonofabitch is trying to tell you something,” Wheelie said to Throttle.

  Smokey let the hired killer’s mouth close. “What the fuck are you trying to say?” He clutched the man’s chin hard in his hand.

  “We can work something out here. I just needed the money. I don’t have anything against you,” he caught Wheelie’s gaze. “I know you want him dead just as much as he wants you dead, so I can work for you.”

  “Who’re you talking about?” Wheelie already knew the answer, but he wanted to hear the fucker say it.

  “Russ Elmore. I met him in San Quentin. I know he killed your sister. I never went for that. I’m not into hurting women. A lot of the men weren’t, and he got his ass beat plenty. I can work for you.”

  “Where’s Elmore now?” Wheelie still had the gun pointed at the bastard.

  “San Diego. He’s shacking up with some bitch who is paying for everything. She thinks I’m his business partner and we’re opening an online store. He’s just using her.”

  “How much are you getting?” Throttle asked.

  “Twenty grand,” the man said.

  Wheelie shook his head. “Fuck, is that all I’m worth?” The other men guffawed and Tucker joined them. Wheelie wanted nothing more than to pistol whip the asshole, but he didn’t want to leave any marks on the man’s body; it had to look like Tucker offed himself.

  “When’s the last time you spoke to him?” Smokey asked.

  “Last night. He was pretty pissed that I hadn’t found you yet.”

  “I bet he was. I’d be pissed too if I paid a guy and all he did was jerk off to some cheesy motel porn instead of doing his job.”

  Tucker laughed again. “Russ gave me ten thousand up front. I can’t believe he gave me that much.”

  “Well … dumbasses tend to flock together.” Wheelie went over to the dresser and picked up several plastic cups then took out a bunch of shooters he’d put in the pockets of his leather jacket. Animal and Puck took shots out of their pockets too and handed them to Wheelie.

  “What’re you doing?” Tucker asked as Throttle got off him.

  “It seems like Wheelie’s taking your offer to kill the sonofabitch,” Throttle said.

  Tucker’s lips spread into a wide grin. “Really? That’s great. I never liked Elmore.”

  “In true biker fashion, we’ll drink to it with whiskey,” Animal said, still standing on the side next to the bed.

  Tucker sat up and rested his back against the headboard. “So, how much are you paying me?”

  Wheelie clenched his fists then opened them. “We’ll talk about that after we seal the deal with a few shots of Jack.”

  “I can’t believe you guys carry your own shooters around with you. I’ll have to remember that.” Tucked laced his fingers together and put them behind his head, staring at the bikers. “I’m sure glad we could reach an agreement.”

  Wheelie sprinkled the crushed pills into the cup and poured three shots of Jack into it, stirring it with his finger. He handed each of his brothers a small plastic bottle and walked over to Tucker.

  Reaching out, the hired killer took the cup from Wheelie. “Damn, that’s what I call a shot.”

  “Most dudes don’t know shit about drinking whiskey,” Puck said then downed two shooters in quick succession.

  As if to show off, Tucker gulped down the drink then grimaced.

  “Didn’t you like it?” Wheelie asked, taking the cup from him and placing it on the nightstand. He passed around a plastic bag and each of the brothers threw their empty shooters in it.

  “It was bitter as fuck. What was the brand?” Tucker wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

  “Jack Daniels, of course.” Wheelie pulled out a chair and sat. Throttle went over and turned on the television, and the woman with the silicone tits bounced and jiggled as the man with a twelve-inch cock slammed into her. The men laughed, and Throttle sank down in one of the cushy chairs while Smokey, Puck, and Animal sat on the bed.

  “It was that big-titted waitress at the diner who told you I was looking for you, wasn’t it?”

  “Brenda watches out for us,” Wheelie said, staring at the sweating man.

  “That was pretty stupid of you to ask around town without trying to cover your tracks. And you used your real name to register at the motel. Fuckin’ dumb,” Smokey said as he stared at the screen.

  After a nervous laugh, Tucker answered, “I t
hought with a town this size I’d find you easy and already be back in San Diego.”

  Puck nodded, his eyes fixed on Tucker. “Yeah … dumber than fuckin’ dirt.”

  The tension was palpable: No one was speaking. The only noise in the room was the AC unit humming and the grunts and squeals from the actors in the movie.

  Tucker cleared his throat. “Are you guys hot? I mean temperature-wise.” He laughed nervously again as he took the sheet and wiped the perspiration streaming down his face.

  “I feel cool,” Wheelie answered, his gaze going over to Throttle. “What about you, bro?”

  “It’s perfect in here,” Throttle said.

  “I think it’s even on the cold side,” Animal added.

  Wheelie looked at the asshole; he was sweating like a pig. He glanced at his phone: 3:30 pm. He should be dead by six thirty or seven.

  “I don’t feel so good,” Tucker said, tugging at the front of his T-shirt, which was drenched. “I need a glass of water.” He tried to swing his feet over the side of the bed, but he couldn’t and instead fell back. “What the hell did you put in that drink?” he slurred.

  Wheelie just stared at him while the other bikers watched the television. Soon Wheelie noticed Tucker’s breathing was slowing down, and his limp body twitched and jerked on the mattress.

  “You going to the club tonight?” Smokey asked Wheelie.

  “I’ve got stuff to do. I’ll be there tomorrow night.”

  “Jax is having poker night at his house tomorrow. Cherri’s making her chili and enchilada pie.” Animal looked over at Tucker and jerked his head. “Seems like he’s checking out. Now that we’re not going to San Diego for a bit, are you gonna go on your own?”

  Wheelie shook his head. “Elmore’s gonna be watching for me when he doesn’t hear back from this asshole. I’m gonna let some time pass and make him think that this piece of shit double-crossed him. Then, when he lets his guard down, I’ll strike. I’m asking Breaker to keep an eye on him to make sure he doesn’t bolt.”

  “You just let me know when you’re ready to go,” Animal said.

  “Same here,” Smokey added while Throttle and Puck nodded in agreement.

  “I will. If the sonofabitch doesn’t take off, I’ll wait until we go to help out Panther and the others.” Tucker’s chest looked like it stopped moving. “Check out this bastard to see if he’s dead yet,” Wheelie said to Puck.