Enforcer: (Boneyard Brotherhood MC Romance Book 2)

by Amber Burns

  “We’re not savages. If you want to give a verbal warning by all means. Let them know that stretch of road is ours. That we got people loyal to us that live in that area and if they hassle them again that there’ll be consequences,” he seemed to regain the air of confidence he had before. He nodded, found a cigar and stuck it between his teeth. “Show the fuckers what they’re dealing with if it’s necessary.”

  25

  At six, just after the shop closed, the people that were tapped for the ride through began gathering at the back of the clubhouse around the office door. The door stood open, and all the key people I wanted in there stood around the desk while I laid out the plans. Vests were being passed out, and the guys were suiting up. This was a bit of camaraderie that I enjoyed about the service, I just never expected to be leading it.

  “It’s a two-hour ride,” I spoke loud enough, so all ten men were able to hear. “The road is rough, so we need to have enough spacing between us. It was decided that we’re going to make a direct threat to this other group, so we’re sure they’ll understand we mean business.”

  “Boneyard don’t fuck around,” someone growled. I couldn’t place who but every expression I took in was hard. These were men ready to go to war for their club.

  “I’ll do the talking,” I grimaced as I said it. “The rest are instructed to have guns out and ready for confrontation. Ask questions first, don’t open fire unless they do.” I paused as I consider the next route. “Do I have any with dead on aim?”

  Hernandez was huddled in the corner of the office, “Gimme a target and I can hit it. Unless you’re asking me to shoot it from a moving bike?”

  “No,” I said with a frown. It wasn’t a bad idea, but the movies made it look easier than it was. “Nothing like that, but if I told you a specific area to shoot at would you be able to do it?”

  Hernandez nodded and gave me a slight smirk as if he understood what I was thinking. “I can probably manage it. I guess we’ll find out the hard way, that cool?”

  “We’re doing this to make an impression,” I said seriously. “We’re going to be serious in the face of danger and show them that we’re not afraid to come in shooting if necessary. Channel the time when Uncle Sam owned you, boys, because that’s the mentality that I want. When we’re done we’re back to being free men, and you can go back to being wild,” I tried out a little humor in my tone, but I could tell it was lost. Everyone here had their heads in the game, they were ready to mount their bikes and hit the road.

  “We’ll be tailing you and hang back,” Wilson offered up. I didn’t expect that, and I looked back to him as he continued speaking. “We’re going to have five extra men in the event that something goes wrong. If you’re challenged and outmanned, you’ll need extra back up. We’ll be the extra back up.”

  “We’re also going to have a scanner with us to make sure trouble for the law doesn’t pop up,” Tillman said to me. “We don’t need to have them sniffing around the yard again.” He gave me a nod. “You got an ear piece?”

  “I do,” I pulled it out of a pocket, going ahead and clipping to my ear.

  “This way we’ve got contact between us,” Tillman went on, speaking to the rest of the men. “Keep your eyes on him. If he pulls away you follow. Let’s make this go as seamlessly as we can. We don’t need any more injuries at the hands of these assholes.”

  “Suit up and load up,” Wilson barked. “We’re wasting time with this. Stay vigilant.”

  Everyone had their vests on, riding jackets and by the time we were filing out the clubhouse everyone was bearing the white winged skull that was the symbol of our club. There was a grim determination on every face that I looked at. We would handle this, I didn’t have a doubt in my mind now.

  I kept a gun on me, because the last time Van Cleave had made this ride I had pulled the gun from behind me to return fire over the gun that had been in the holster by the gas tank. I still kept a gun there for security’s sake. I made sure everyone had two guns, weapons that Wilson and Tillman provided for all of us. We were encouraged to use club provided weapons for club business, mostly because the serial numbers registered to someone else, probably someone deceased. If there was an investigation behind what happened the other night, not that I didn’t trust Martinez, the gun that I used was in someone else’s name.

  While we did illegal things as a club, we still managed an air of anonymity. We covered our asses and looked just like a gathering of vets. I was sure that was what Miller thought we were, but I kept my eye on him as we prepared for the ride. His expression was similar to the others, he put on the vest and took two pistols without question. His brows were down, and he went to his motorcycle to mount up and wait for further instruction. He had a brain bucket for a helmet, so it left his face easy to spot. I put my helmet on but kept the visor up.

  “Martinez,” I snapped getting the other man’s attention. He came to me without hesitation, his dark eyes curious as he handled his helmet. He was just as ready to go as I was. “I want you riding second to me. If you see anything give me a motion.”

  He grinned at that and nodded, “I’ll keep my eyes open.”

  “Hernandez, Jones,” I barked, getting the other two men’s attention. “You’re bringing up the rear. Keep a lookout for any tails other than Wilson’s SUV. If any bikes fall into line behind us, give a honk.” Jones gave me a salute, and I got a thumbs up from Hernandez. “We’re going to be riding five deep,” I said loudly. “The road is shit so pay attention. If you're not used to riding on bad roads, then put a good amount of space between you and everyone else. If you’re having issues honk twice, we’ll pull over. Partner up, pay attention and keep your eyes open. If you see something that needs to our attention honk three times. This is a long ride so make sure you piss now, we ain’t making pit stops.”

  It was about thirty minutes before we were all mounted up and roaring out of the lot. I wasn’t in a rush, I didn’t know what sort of reaction we would get, and if we were going to be riding into gun fire, I wanted to pace myself for it. Before I had been lucky enough to have instinct drive me. If something happened today, I could only hope that after twelve years of being in the Marines would drive me to stay safe today. And the guys that were going on the ride with me would have similar skills to keep themselves up.

  Night rides would usually help center me, the sound blocked out all the frustrations I had. The chill in the air seemed to pierce me. The roar of motorcycles surrounded me, deep bass growls like I had a pack of wild cats with me.

  All of it made me think I would need to have Dylan on the back of my bike so she could experience this with me. It was something I would have to do after all this shit settled. Put her on behind me and feel her arms wrapped around me, the feel of her breasts pressed against my back. I growled, the noise lost in the wind. It was something I would definitely be doing soon. My thoughts drifted unaided to Dylan, though I didn’t even care. Just thinking of her invoked that warmth in my chest and made my cock hard.It had me craving just the smell of her. On her day off, I would have to do something other than just fuck her. Not that that was a bad thing. I would have to take the time to just enjoy her presence. If I wanted her for more than just sex, something that was becoming apparent quickly. I realized that I should have made an effort to get to know her, to figure out what made her tick. Hindsight, but it’s not like I couldn’t make up for it, right?

  “I’m gonna keep her,” I spoke to no one, the noise of the wind taking away the admission.

  I just have to get through this, I thought with a grim determination that was renewed by just the thought of keeping her. I wanted to get this done, and now, I pushed the gas so that we would cover more ground. We passed businesses that had already closed for the evening and some that weren’t open to begin with.

  As the quality of the road diminished, I knew we were closing in on our goal. I motioned for us to slow, tapping the brakes lightly, so the tail lights on my bike flashed. I let up on th
e gas, and I spied Martinez slowing beside me. A glance over my shoulder showed that the men behind me followed my lead. Good, I nodded my appreciation.

  We had to start weaving to avoid potholes, so it slowed our progress quite a bit. But, it wasn’t long before I saw our destination. The clubhouse that the Crazy Aces had claimed looked as if it used to be a business, the front of it was made up of large windows that had been covered with newspapers and posters. I spied an N.W.A. poster that said ‘Fuck the police’ in big bold letters as I pulled into the parking lot.

  How the hell did they managed to get this far without drawing attention from law enforcement? I sat on my bike as I took in the look of their clubhouse with a little bit of disgust, it looked run down. Like our house, there were several motorcycles parked out front; I counted twenty. We were outnumbered, but if the last time I dealt with someone from this group was any consideration, then it was evident that they didn’t out skill us.

  Martinez pulled up beside me, and I watched him wave his hands, motioning for the others to pull out evenly on my sides. Jones was tail on the left and Hernandez on the right. Miller sat at my immediate left while Martinez had my right. The set up felt good. I put down my kickstand and left the motor running. I fished my phone out of my jacket pocket and dialed Wilson in.

  “Report,” his voice was gruff, and I barely heard it over the noise surrounding me.

  “We’re here.”

  “Met any aggression?”

  I revved my engine, and the chorus of engines rose to a deafening level.

  “Not yet,” I said even though I knew he wouldn’t be able to hear me.

  I watched as the bodies shifted to the front glass, several eyes looking through the uncovered parts of windows. We had their attention. I cut my engine and motioned for the rest of them to do so as well. Soon there was nothing but silence, I lifted the visor of my helmet and looked to Martinez.

  “Guns at the ready,” I ordered.

  “Take aim,” Martinez’s voice cut through the chill that had followed us here, and I looked to the left and saw several pistols come up. “Safeties off,” he barked just after, and I knew that our audience heard his words.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” the glass door was thrown open, and a man that had to be in his forties stepped out, a beer in hand.

  He was slim build, though he still managed a slight bulge from one too many beers, and was probably standing at six feet. He had his hands up, and from the looks of his cut, the group opted for denim over the more expensive leather. I found out the hard way that leather had its benefits.

  “Fellas,” he had a bandanna on his head and aside from his cut he wore a ratty flannel shirt under it and faded torn jeans. “What can the Crazy Aces do for you?”

  I took the time to take my helmet off and gave the man a hard look.

  “You got our attention,” I started. “We’re here to let you know you have our undivided attention.”

  “Really?” He had a sparse amount of facial hair, and he toyed with it as he considered me. “Who is we? Usually, when we try to make enemies, we like to know who we’re pissing off while we’re pissing them off.”

  I offered a slight salute, it was off as I purposely made my hand placement terrible.

  “Boneyard Brotherhood,” I informed him lightly, keeping my tone even.

  “Ah,” he nodded then shrugged a little. “Sorry, man. Can’t say I know who the fuck the Boneyard Brotherhood is? Or why the fuck I should care who the fuck you are?” His tone held humor, though it was clear that he was laughing at us.

  I glanced at Martinez beside me and said it loud enough for the man at the door to hear, “Hernandez, upper right-hand corner. Take out just the window. Don’t hit anybody.”

  I watched him heft up the pistol in aim. I saw his hand shift as he pulled the trigger and I heard the glass explode. There were cries and curses coming from the blasted out window. I looked back at the man standing in front of the clubhouse.

  “We are part of the Boneyard Brotherhood. We maintain a certain type of code among our members. We don’t draw negative attention to ourselves, and we don’t hassle the civilians that are in our territory.”

  “Thanks, fan-fucking-tastic, asshole,” he snarled at me and gestured back at the building. “The fuck do I care about you and your band of pussies?”

  “Take the beer out of his hand,” I said without looking away.

  “I’m going to hit the glass behind him, too,” Hernandez informed.

  “Do it,” I watched the man raise his hand to protest, the one with the beer going up into the air. Hernandez shot rang out again, and I watched, amazed as the man flailed for a split second before the glass bottle he held exploded then the window behind it.

  “Fuck!” he snarled and dropped the neck of the bottle, all that was left of it. He pulled out a gun from behind his back. “You are fucking with the wrong people. I will fucking shoot you!”

  I watched the gun in his hand, there was a surety to the way he held it, but there was also a slight tremble. Something that I could only see because I sat on my bike watching him. He was afraid.

  “You are fucking with the wrong people,” I threw back at him. “You and your people are being stupid, you are drawing the wrong attention, and you’re setting up camp in the wrong area. This road is ours, you are fucking with what is ours. If you fuck with something that doesn’t belong to you then you have to face the consequences,” I snapped. “You and your people can stay, or you can go. But if you stay you sure the fuck are going to conform to our code.”

  I watched him spit, “Fuck your code.”

  “What do you think is going to happen if I tell him to shoot the gun out of your hand?” I asked without a trace of anger in my voice, I actually sounded curious. “Do you think he’ll hit your hand? Or do you think he’ll go for the gun?”

  “Stop, no,” he held up both his hands now, seeming to realize he had nine guns trained on him. “Let’s try this again, buddy. What can I do for you?”

  “I think I already said I wanted,” I didn’t miss a beat.

  “Well,” he laughed a little. “We’re not moving, we’re not ‘conforming’ to any code other than our own. We live how we want to fucking live.”

  “Then, you will fucking die pretty damn quick,” I twisted my tone to match his.

  “You think you can handle all of us,” he made an elaborate show of counting each of us. “Your out numbered here. Shoot me, you’ve already got the attention of everyone inside. They’re gonna shoot back.”

  “I think I’ve already displayed the skill one of my men has with a gun,” I glanced away to my left. “Do you want to see the skill of the rest of them? There’s only so much glass to shoot out without hitting people. We could strive to hit people from outside. It’s not hard to do, just aim for the shadows and outlines we see through the glass. Focus, and you’ll hit someone. If your aim is good enough, and Hernandez has proven his is, you can get a headshot without even trying.” I looked back to the man I was speaking to. “Do I need to get him to show you how good a shot he is?”

  “This is just a pistol,” I heard Hernandez say. “If you cover me I got my rifle in pieces in my saddlebag. I can take everyone inside out with a cartridge and a half.” I didn’t bother looking at him, but I heard him counting lightly out loud. “Twenty-two, twenty-three people inside. One cartridge and a few out of the other. Assuming none are in the back of the building.” He chuckled, “Coleman’s got his rifle, too. Between the two of us, we can make sure no one comes out of the building.”

  “Quit swinging your dicks,” he snapped at Hernandez. “You can’t shoot everyone in there when they’re shooting at you.”

  “Maybe you can’t,” I heard Coleman’s deep tenor interrupt him. “Majority here has been shot at before and knows how to use the weapons in their hands. Do you?”

  That’s when I saw the fear in his expression, he seemed to realize he didn’t know what he was dealing with.

 
“Don’t take shit, Larry,” it was called out from the hole in the window. “We can take these fuckers!”

  “Probably not,” I said lightly. “We’re going to outgun you, without a doubt. Everyman in this line has training on how to use a gun,” I gave him another off salute. “That’s thanks to your tax dollars.” I leaned forward and rest my elbows on the gas tank of my bike. “Can you say the same?”

  “You fucks are cops,” he turned to look over a shoulder. “We got the fucking po-po here!”

  A shot rang out from the window, and the dirt right in front of my motorcycle kicked up. That was as close as it got. How fucking disappointing. I didn’t say a word, didn’t give a direction. The men to my left and to my right returned fire, shooting out every window behind the man in front of us and exposing the people behind the glass. The newspaper and posters that had littered the windows lay in ripped piles among the broken glass. The groups of men that had been behind the windows ran back, panicked cries ringing out as the moved away from the windows. As far as I could tell no one was hit. I raised a hand, and the gunfire stopped.