Jaxson 2_Ghosts of Retribution_Black Devils MC

by K. J. Dahlen

  Bruno’s hand fell from my shoulder and he signaled me over to his bike. I followed him over to his Harley. He reached into his saddle bags for something. I’d thought he was rummaging for cigarettes, until he pulled out something large.

  He faced me and held out a heavy bullet proof vest. “Put this on over your undershirt,” Bruno ordered.

  Slowly, I took the vest from his hands.

  “We’ve been lucky so far, at least with this on, we can be fairly certain sure that nothing grave will happen to you tonight. You have more enemies as president of the Devils than anyone else. That’s why I’m giving this to you.”

  “I know,” I replied as I looked at him. It was obvious in this moment he held the same fears I did, but Bruno’s gaze remained unwavering – the master of men was, as he always was, three hundred pounds of unshakable confidence and determination.

  I did as Bruno had told me and put on the vest, then pulled on my shirt. Tugging on my leather jacket, which was now incredibly tight, my gaze swung back to Bruno.

  Bruno paused for a moment, and then said, “Take no chances. Understood?”

  I nodded. “Understood. I’ve made sure this job is tight on every detail. It’s foolproof. This one’s for you, boss. So, enjoy every fucking moment of it.” I smiled.

  A smile pulled on Bruno’s impassive expression. Before the muscles in his face could give way to a grin, he gave me a final pat on the shoulder and turned toward his bike. He mounted his Harley and fired up his engine – ready to take the lead for the last time in his career.

  With the dominating roar of Bruno’s bike there was a sudden silence as over two hundred pairs of eyes looked to him, waiting and watching as Bruno proceeded through the busy lot to lead the first SUV of product out onto the open road.

  The floodlight effect of his headlights cut through the near total darkness as he rolled forward. The man raised one arm straight up in the air to signal the Devils to get into position to exit the lot.

  Into the night thrummed the procession of five SUV’s and the forty bikes to each car. I watched until the last man left the place before I walked to my ride to follow on behind. Within seconds, I was alone.

  I headed – now more tentatively ‒ toward my bike my footsteps echoing as they struck the concrete beneath my boots. I stopped. I’d suddenly become aware of a whistling sound behind me and with a fast pivot, I spun around – shining my flashlight in the direction of the noise. My other hand rested on my gun.

  Soft soled shoes moved silently across the concrete. I couldn’t see it, but I could hear it. Nobody was in view, yet. The person sounded either virtually barefoot or as though he weighed less than 100 pounds.

  A wild laugh cackled from far off.

  I quickly drew my gun and cocked it. “Who’s there?” I called out, my finger stroking the trigger as the silhouette of a person came into view – crossing the parking lot toward me. The person wheezed as they exhaled, as though the walk was making them breathless.

  I aimed the barrel at the mysterious figure headed toward me. Growing closer and larger by the second.

  Losing patience, I called out, “Don’t move another inch, dumbass. I don’t want to hurt you.” My finger twitched on trigger. The figure didn’t respond, but continued toward me, the wheezing sound of his breath getting louder. A moment later, I fired. I had too much at stake to show him any mercy.

  Boom! Boom!

  Silence.

  I heard no dull thud of a body hitting the ground.

  I jumped when somebody said, “Scared you. Didn’t I?” A dry, grainy voice spoke from beside me

  My adrenaline kicked into high-gear with the shock. I sharply raised my flashlight and shone it directly in the eyes of the man, blinding him with white light.

  “Woahhhh! Shut that off. OK, OK…I’m sorry I’m late,” he said, lifting his hands in an expression of harmlessness. His sparse and disheveled white hair stood out against the dark night and wisped upward in the breeze making him look like he had 10,000 volts of electricity charging through him. It was the Ghost.

  I dropped my gun and shoved it back into its holster. “You sonofabitch, that really wasn’t a smart thing to do. You trying to get your goddamn face blown off?”

  The Ghost gave a fatalistic shrug and came up close to me until his ugly face was directly opposite mine. With a shark’s toothy smile, he broke out into a wheezy laughter. His scoffs were overthrown by couching attack that took hold of his throat. It was choking smoker’s cough.

  “I’ve got business to attend to,” I told him, about to get onto my bike when I noticed something in his eyes that I didn’t like one bit. They were unfocused. Almost drowsy.

  I stared at him a moment longer, studying his dark eyes. The vacant look was the same as you would expect of somebody who’d used heavy medication. Judging by the smell of the guy, there was nothing medicinal about what he’d taken. “Your mind’s fucked. You’re stoned out of your fucking mind,” I shouted.

  “Chill….Jax. It’s ….in the bag. The deals in the bag,” he told me. “So, wassamatter? Have a smoke with me.” His hands trembled as he tried to plant a cigarette between his lips

  “Ciggs aren’t all you’ve been smoking this evening you bastard!”

  The man fiddled with his lighter. “Chill….Jax,” he muttered, his voice slow, his breathing short. His words were barely understandable.

  “You’re a disgrace.” Hell, if he were a member of the Devils’… smoking dope would result in automatic kick out from the club.

  Finally, the man got his cigarette lit and he coughed as the first puff of smoke left his lips.

  “You’ve got a lot to learn for an old man,” I said ripping the cigarette from his mouth.

  His lips twitched. “Don’t cross me, Mr. Col…Coltrane…unless you intend to embark on a new career,” he threatened, sparking his lighter and putting a second cigarette into his mouth.

  “I don’t have time for this bullshit!” I snapped, “You’ve made me late.”

  “You’re not all that, Mr. Col...Coltrane,” he hissed, voice hoarse and charged. The bastard placed a hand on my bike and leaned up against it. Pulling his newly lit cigarette from his lips, he crushed it out on the tread of my front tire, as though trying to provoke me.

  It worked.

  My mood instantly darkened. My fist reacted and tightened into a ball at my side. Filled with immediate rage, I stepped closer to the man until I was no more than a quarter of an inch from his body. I was stunned at his arrogance. Fuming at the nerve of the son of a bitch. My body shook as I tried to hold onto some semblance of control.

  We stood face to face. Eye to eye.

  The Ghost let out a deliberate, forced chuckle.

  The guy’s cockiness and disrespect was making my blood boil. The monster inside of me fought to take over.

  The man’s laughter subsided the instant he saw my fist rear backward. The pleasured look on his face wiped away for at least the next twenty four hours when my fist connected with his face with a tremendous crunch...

  “Arghhhhhh! Geeze,” he cried out, as my knuckles smashed into his angular jaw. His body made a horrible cracking sound on impact; which threw him to the ground like a piece of trash.

  “Never touch another man’s bike,” I told him, spitting on the ground in front of him in disgust.

  The impact of the blow wouldn’t kill the bastard, and it wouldn’t knock him unconscious; but I’d hit him hard enough to teach him his lesson.

  The man gazed up at me; heaped on the ground at my feet. A look of fear and embarrassment swept through his bloodied and soon to be bruised face. “I meant no disrespect,” he said, weakly.

  I was done… he was no longer my concern.

  I swung my leg over my Harley and floored it out of the place to catch up with my team. As I raced toward the highway, my narrowed gaze slid across to my stem mirrors to check for any sign of cops or anybody else following behind me. No cops. No enemies on my tail. No movement. On
ly The Ghost – looking on in disbelief.

  I left him alone in the darkness, the wheels of my bike screaming as I rounded the corner onto the main road. The fact that he’d touched another man’s bike – my bike ‒ wasn’t the only reason I’d done what I’d done, but it was reason enough.

  Chapter Twenty

  Dino

  Somebody needs to say prayers over this damn fool idea. This goddamn deal could destroy the Devils.

  A hum of rolling thunder vibrated the ground on which I rode. The steady stream of bikes followed the white SUV that my team accompanied to our first delivery on 62nd Street. Hundreds of motorcycle wheels screeched loudly, making me wince at the attention grabbing volume it created as the SUV made a series of turns at high speeds… a right turn around the next corner, then a left, then a final sharp right before we reached our destination. The four wheel drive pulled up alongside a dark, low slung car that was parked up on the curb.

  The driver’s door of the dark car swung open and a man exited. I fixed on him. He stood across from me, but only the silhouette of the man was visible. I switched on my headlights to flood the man in a bright flash of white light. He wouldn’t risk trying anything funny when he realized there would be so many witnesses. The man looked up, pulling his hand over his eyes and swinging back around to adjust to the light. We traded looks for a long moment – aware of the potential threat each other posed.

  I eyed the stranger suspiciously, studying his body from my bike. I couldn’t quite see his face. There would have been no sense in moving closer and scaring the buyer away, but I wanted to get a good look at him.

  The buyer, a stocky, middle-aged man, approached the SUV. He held a silenced .22 at his side and a briefcase at his other side. He raised his hand and tapped the blackened window of the SUV’s rear door. He waited.

  Three seconds later, our driver, Cris ‒ 250lb professional looking bodyguard wearing a balaclava and a heavy, bulletproof vest ‒ jumped out and swung open the trunk of the SUV.

  I wondered why all us bikers hadn’t been given bullet proof vests, seeing as we were the ones out on the open road while this goon sat behind bulletproof glass and tinted windows.

  The bodyguard took the man’s gun and then patted over the span of his body, frisking him in search of any weapons. Satisfied that the man was now completely disarmed, the bodyguard opened the back door to the SUV.

  All I could do was wait, and stare pensively at the vehicle. All to be heard was the ticking of the SUV’s engine. My eyes drifted to the buyer’s vehicle. I could now see that it was a black Honda accord with tinted windows.

  I flicked through a stack of messaged on my phone. Ten minutes or less later, the seller slid out of the SUV, holding a grey duffel bag. He nodded courteously at the two men.

  I joined the bodyguard at the back of the SUV. The buyer pulled up the bulky briefcase and snapped it open to show thick blocks of hundred dollar bills lining the briefcase. The man shut the hatchback. The sound echoed for a second.

  I suddenly got hit by the sensation that everything was going all too smoothly.

  Jax called me, I answered with a whispered, “Jax, my brother?”

  “Everything ok?” he asked.

  “Yeah, the first trade has just been done.”

  “Good. Looks like the only casualty tonight will be the guy that calls himself, the Ghost. The man showed up stoned to the job.”

  My skin crawled. “That sonofabitch; that stupid sonofabitch,” I cursed.

  “I had a bad feeling about him from the moment I met the guy,” Jax told me, “I flew off the handle at him for snuffing his cig out on my god dammed tire.”

  I squeezed my hands around the handlebars of my bike in raw fury, “He damn well deserved it. Somebody needs to straighten him out.” It was cool outside, but suddenly I didn’t notice.

  “Yeah, but god knows how much use it’ll be. Once a druggy, always a fucking druggy,” Jax said in a tone of dismissal.

  My chest kept burning hot with a grave feeling that this night could turn nasty. “Listen Jax, I’ve been thinking…”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m your right hand man. You know that.”

  “Sure.”

  I drew the phone closer to my face to keep from being overheard, “I’ll ride with the boys into Tijuana. Don’t you go into that goddamn town. It’s only a few deliveries, and I’m a hell of a lot safer there than you are. I’ll watch over everything on that end and you watch it here,” I offered.

  “Hell no. It’s not fair. I’m club president it’s my job to go to Tijuana. Jumper’s only praying on our fear and he’s succeeding—”

  “This is the way I want things, Jax. I’m telling you,” I interrupted him. “I don’t have any enemies like you do. As a Devil, some enemies are mad by default, but the Bloods and Jumper aren’t interest in me.”

  “I can’t let you do this, brother.”

  I looked over my shoulder, and whispered, “Let me do this, Jax,” I repeated, insisting now, “The Bloods are around watching us, I know it. I can feel it. But there are a lot of us here tonight in Coronado, you’ll be safe here. I’m your best friend and your VP now. You’ve gotta start letting me help you. As a member of this MC, I vowed to do whatever it took to protect the Devils. I’m a man of my word, Jax. I’m asking you to let me honor it,” I told him, playing my trump card.

  Jax let out his breath and I knew I’d convinced him. Yeah, he knew how to hide his fears and emotions well, but he knew I was right. “All right,” he said. There was a painful pause. “Thanks…That’s one hell of a favor,” he added.

  “Sure, I’ll do anything for my best friend; and for my club.” I laughed. “Just don’t forget it, brother. Not that I’ll let you forget it.”

  Jax joked back, “Hey, don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing. You’re just trying to cut me out of the action.”

  I snickered into the phone and so did Jax.

  A second later, his laughter subsided and his voice was all business again, “Be careful out there. Real careful.”

  “Yeah, Jax, you too.” We hung up.

  A hand took hold of my arm and my attention wavered. My eyes moved to the large, dark figure. As best I could tell, it was one of the Dragons.

  “Thunder, right?”

  I nodded.

  “We’re ready to move on to the next delivery. You ready?” he asked.

  With a nod, I told the man from the Dragons, “Yeah, I’m ready.” I knew it was more dangerous than I’d let on to Jax for me to go into Tijuana, but Jax was born to be the greatest president of the Devils would ever know. And it was my mission to make sure it happened.

  The lead man took off to our next rendezvous point as I followed.

  Suddenly, I heard a maelstrom of bullets going off behind me. The noise was deafening, like a war had just started. I smelled the smoke from the many barrels blasting all at once and the ping of metal echoed off the asphalt. Shit, it was going down right this minute. I didn’t slow down nor stop to look. It would be smarter to just keep going. I sucked in a breath and sped my Harley up.

  Momma didn’t raise no fool.

  The Dragons were taking out trash bin number one. Only four more to go. This was gonna be a long fucking night.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Jaxson

  ‘I’ll be home soon, baby.’

  I clicked send on the short text message to Chloe and lifted my eyes from my cell phone display. At the museum parking lot, I waited for Bruno and Dino’s convoy’s to arrive, my eyelids heavy from the long night. I rubbed my cold hands together and blew into them. The biting early morning breeze cut at the back of my neck with icy kisses.

  When the jobs with my team had been completed four hours later, I returned to the park and sent the guys home when Viper still hadn’t showed her face for the debriefing. She was supposed to be waiting here. Maybe the trap for the cartel sent her packing?

  I was seated on my bike; the briefcase of money for
the Devils’ contribution tonight on my lap. It felt good. However, I’d called Marco with a message to get the cash payment out from my hands and securely stored as fast as possible. Marco would take the money back to Bruno at the clubhouse.

  Looking at digital clock on my Harley told me it was 4:36am. But it was still dark.

  I took in the scene; the parking lot by the museum was a remote and secluded area at this time of day. I gave a low whistle. It was a large, cavernous space that magnified every sound. The tall trees that surrounded the place rustled and swayed in the wind. A place like this would be the perfect hunting ground for a killer. Fuck, where I sat I could be a target right this fucking second.

  Ten yards behind me to my right, I noticed a small porta cabin that housed the security for the museum in the daytime that would control everybody and everything that entered and left the building. The light was still on but I’d didn’t look like anybody was inside. I figured it must have been where Viper was hiding out.

  Dino and Marco arrived at the park.

  Dino called out, “Jax, brother!”

  “Thunder! Marco! How’d everything go?” I asked, approaching them.

  “Like clockwork,” Marco responded, as he shook my hand in greeting.

  “Yeah, but there was a shit storm when the Dragons took out the Cartel, man.” Dino shook his head. “It happened behind me as we left the first buy. They never saw it coming. Then I ran into one of Nikoli’s men and he said all the other SUV’s were taken down as well. One final job in Tijuana and we’re done for the night,” Dino added.

  “I’m just glad to see you both alive and well. No casualties, I take it?”

  “None,” my two brothers responded in unison.

  “Perfect. Bruno will get his money tonight. We’re quits with the Cartel. They now know we won’t allow drugs to run through here. When the time comes, I’ll have cut all ties with that bitch, Viper, for good. I’m not having drugs in my city.”

  Dino and Marco nodded.

  “It kills me to think that the Devils could cause people in our town to lose themselves to drugs. Especially kids; I could have gone that way when I was young if drugs had been available to me. San Diego is one of the largest school districts in the US, I’m not about to be responsible for corrupting the souls of minors.”