Devil's Disciples MC (Box Set)

by Scott Hildreth

  Ally clapped her hands together. “Let’s do this. I’m ready.”

  I pulled the door open and gestured inside. “After you.”

  The dining area had a dozen people in it, which was busier than most late nights. Disappointed that they weren’t empty and hoping Cash didn’t make a complete fool of us, I glanced at Carma and smiled.

  “Have a seat wherever you like,” she said.

  “Is that her?” Ally whispered.

  “It is.”

  “Oh. Wow.” She stole another glance and then looked at me. “She’s got an interesting look. Kind of…”

  “Exotic,” Goose said, taking the words right out of my mouth.

  Ally nodded. “Yeah. Exotic.”

  “She’s not an easy one to forget,” I said.

  After we took a seat, Carma brought menus by. “I’ll give you a few minutes to look these over. Can I get you some drinks?”

  We placed our drink order—a combination of margaritas, beer, and water. While everyone scanned the menu for their favorite Mexican dish, I waited anxiously for Carma to bring the drinks.

  “Look at that shit, would ya,” I said when she arrived. “A dozen on one tray. She didn’t spill a drop.”

  Cash looked at Carma like he was unimpressed. He clapped the tips of his fingers lightly against the palm of his hand. “Amazing.”

  I immediately took exception to Cash’s attitude. I glared at him and then looked at Carma. Seeing her lack of reaction to his Neanderthal actions prevented me from making a scene in her place of employment.

  Acting as if she didn’t hear Cash’s snide comment—or see him acting like an idiot—Carma passed out the drinks. After handing Baker the last one, she focused on Cash. “Let me guess, you’re the one that revved his engine so tight that it shook the silverware on everyone’s tables?”

  “Did you like that?” he asked.

  “It was.” She mimicked his golf clap. “Amazing.”

  The entire table, short of Cash, enjoyed a laugh. He found it irritating when someone stood up to him, challenging him on his childlike antics.

  Upon seeing Carma do it, I swelled with pride.

  Cash cocked his head to the side and scanned the table, spreading his shitty look from person to person. When he reached Carma, he looked up. “It wasn’t that big of a deal.”

  “What wasn’t that big of a deal?” she asked. “Me carrying the tray of drinks, or you disrupting everyone while they were trying to eat?”

  Clutching his menu in one hand, Cash glared back at her, obviously ill-prepared to argue.

  Statue-still, Carma waited for him to either speak or blink. He did neither.

  I studied her. Uncertain if she was joking or serious, I scanned the table. Everyone’s eyes were glued on Carma.

  After a tense moment of silence, the corners of Cash’s mouth curled up. “You passed.” He extended his hand. “Nice to meet you, I’m Cash.”

  She glanced at his hand. “Passed what?”

  “The test.”

  “What test?”

  He leaned forward. “This little mess with your ex-boyfriend?” he whispered. “You’re gonna need me at some point. If you weren’t willing to stand up for yourself, I wasn’t going to be willing to stand up for you. Figured I’d fuck with you and see how you reacted.”

  She shook his hand. “Nice to meet you, Cash. I’m Carma.”

  “Karma’s a cool name,” he said. “You can get even with people and say, ‘Karma’s gonna get ya, you better watch out. Be careful, Karma’s a bitch. Shit like that.”

  “It’s not that kind of Karma,” she said.

  His eyes narrowed. “What kind of Karma is it?”

  “It’s short for Carmelita,” she said. “If you’re going to stand up for me, you should know who you’re standing up for. I’m Hispanic.”

  I was completely shocked at her revelation. With bated breath, I waited for Cash’s response, hoping it didn’t prompt me to jump up and start a fight with him.

  “In this club, we’re all siblings,” Cash replied. “We might fight and bicker, but when the time comes to stand our ground, we stand as a group. I don’t give a fuck if you’re from Mars. If someone’s going to try and kidnap you, they’re going to have to get through me to do it.”

  Obviously shocked by his little speech, she stared back at him in disbelief.

  He handed her his menu. “I’ll have the enchilada dinner.”

  Just when I thought I was ready to jump the fence, Cash gave me all the reason in the world not to.

  I scanned the table.

  Bound by blood or not, each person seated at the table was just as Cash described them.

  My siblings.

  177

  CARMA

  Reno allowed the others to leave, and he stayed. Despite my mother’s demand, I knew I couldn’t walk away from him. The mere thought of it caused my stomach to ball into a knot.

  “She wants me to quit my job,” I said. “She’s really disappointed that I told you about us coming here from Mexico.”

  “She thinks I’m going to turn you in?”

  “Not you, specifically,” I responded. “But someone. A friend of a friend, or whatever. Think about it. All it takes is one person to make a phone call.”

  He picked at his fingernails. “I don’t like the thought of that.”

  “The thought of what?”

  “The thought that all someone has to do is make a phone call and you—your family—will be tossed over the border. It aggravates me. An idiot with an itchy finger and you’re facing one of the biggest criminals on the planet.”

  “I don’t like it, either. But there’s nothing I can do about it.”

  He wrung his hands together and gazed at the adjoining booth.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  He shook his head. His jaw tensed. After a long period of silence, he looked up. “If everything goes perfect, and what’s-his-fuck gets arrested, you’re still going to have this same problem. Getting rid of him doesn’t fix it.”

  He was right.

  It was easy to think that ridding my life of Angel was going to fix things. It wouldn’t. Removing Angel from Mexico wouldn’t make the country a better place. As long as the United States had a demand for drugs, there would always be an Angel to supply them. The corruption and violence that came hand-in-hand with the drug traffic would remain.

  The fear of being captured by Immigration Agents and returned to Mexico would linger, troubling me like a disease.

  Eventually, it would happen.

  “You’re right,” I agreed. “Getting rid of him won’t fix everything. Mexico will still be an awful place and my family will always face deportation.”

  “I’ve been telling myself I’m doing this because I have to. That if I don’t, this Alacrán fucker is going to hunt the MC down and kill us for what I did to his men. Sitting here right now—looking at you—I think I’m more concerned with you than I am with the MC.”

  I felt terrible that I’d managed to involve him in my problems. He’d already done much more than I would have expected anyone to. “I don’t want to be a burden,” I said. “To you, or to your club.”

  “That’s not what I was getting at.” He took a moment to collect his thoughts before continuing. “I don’t want anything to happen to you. I like being around you.”

  My face went flush. Instead of keeping him in suspense, I quickly confirmed I felt the same way. “I like being around you, too.”

  He looked away, almost as if he was embarrassed. “It’s weird.”

  “What?” I asked. “The mess we’re in?”

  “No.” He met my gaze. “Enjoying a woman’s company.”

  It wasn’t much of an admittance. Not really. I had my suspicions, however, that Reno enjoyed a woman’s company as frequently as I had enjoyed a man’s.

  Feeling warm from head to toe, my mouth curled into a prideful grin. “I’m glad I can give you something in return for what you’v
e done for me.”

  “This is far from over,” he said, arching his back as he spoke.

  He reached into his pocked and pulled out his phone. He studied the screen and then looked at me apologetically. “I’ve got to take this.”

  “Okay.”

  He swiped his thumb across the screen and then raised the phone to his ear. “Give me a second,” he said to the caller. “I need to get where I can talk.”

  He slid from the booth and walked into the parking lot. For several minutes he paced the lot, talking the entire time. When he finished the call, he lowered the phone to his side and peered up the street, into the darkness.

  He stared into the distance, almost as if he were in a daze. Eventually, he made a phone call. After that, he made another. When he hung up, he came to the door and pushed it open just enough to poke his head through the opening.

  “Can you come with me?” he asked. “On the bike?”

  I glanced around. “I suppose so. I uhhm. I need to clear your table. Why?”

  He nodded toward the booth. “Do what you’ve got to do. I’ll be out at my bike.”

  Reno didn’t display a tremendous amount of emotion. Even so, I couldn’t help but wonder if everything was okay.

  I stood. “Is everything alright?”

  He nodded. “Everything’s fine.”

  I got done, locked up, and wandered into the parking lot. He was sitting on his motorcycle, staring blankly toward the highway. When I approached, he glanced over his shoulder.

  “Remember the asshole that revved his motor earlier?” he asked.

  “Cash?”

  He nodded. “Yep.”

  “I do.”

  “Do you remember the big fucker that came in here with me the night we met? Six inches taller than everyone else?”

  “Pee Bee?”

  He grinned. “That’s him.”

  “What about them?”

  “They’re going to be over at Crip’s place, hanging out with their wives. Crip’s Ol’ Lady’s there, too.” He handed me a helmet. “I’m going to take you over there and introduce you to the women. Then, Crip and I have something we’ve got to do.”

  “You’re going to leave me there?”

  “Just for a while.”

  I liked Reno, but I wasn’t thrilled to be left with two men I barely knew and three women I didn’t.

  I let the helmet dangle at my side. “Can we do this some other time?”

  “Just put on the helmet and hop on,” he said. “It’ll be a good time.”

  I felt uneasy about being around people I didn’t know. I cringed. “I should really—”

  “You’re coming with me,” he demanded. “Not negotiable.”

  A chill ran the length of my spine. “Everything’s not okay, is it?”

  He buckled his helmet. “Everything will be just fine.”

  Despite his reassurance, I didn’t believe him. Not wholly. My sixth sense wouldn’t allow me to. Nevertheless, I put on my helmet knowing I’d be left in the presence of two of the toughest looking men I’d ever encountered.

  If they couldn’t keep me safe, no one could.

  178

  RENO

  Pee Bee, Cholo, Goose and I stood in Crip’s garage while Cash stayed inside, making sure the women didn’t listen in on our conversation. Filled with the same nervous energy as if I were walking into a combat zone, I paced the floor.

  “So much for this cocksucker being scared to come into the country, huh?” Crip said, his tone expressing irritation with Alacrán’s unexpected arrival. “What happened to that theory?”

  “Fuck, I don’t know,” I replied. “I don’t know this prick.”

  “We just going to act like we’re two hot-shot drug buyers and see what happens?”

  “We’re going to go into Manos’ place like the two combat experienced veterans we are,” I explained. “If things go to hell, we’ll kill every one of those motherfuckers and call your cop buddy to clean up the mess.”

  Pee Bee alternated glances between us. “What’s wrong with that plan?”

  “Don’t know the layout of the home, don’t know who’s there, and don’t know who—if any of them—are armed,” Crip responded. “It’d be difficult to plan and orchestrate.”

  “I think my plan will work fine,” I said.

  “What is it?” Pee Bee asked.

  “I wagghed my index finger at Goose,” I said. “I’m having him set up in that grassy area on the edge of that cliff with a sniper rifle. The entire back of that place is glass. Whatever we do, we need to keep them in front of those windows, so Goose can see everything. If things go to shit, he’ll take Alacrán out. I’ll take Manos, you take Mister Mustache.”

  “I doubt Alacrán came alone,” Crip said.

  “We’ll deal with it when the time comes.”

  Crip shifted his gaze to Goose. “Where’d you serve?”

  “I didn’t.”

  Crip looked at me, and then at Goose. His eyes narrowed. “It’s three hundred yards from that grass to the back of that house.”

  “That’s what I heard,” Goose said.

  “What makes you think you can take a three-hundred-yard shot?” Crip asked.

  I chuckled a laugh. Goose could shoot a can of beer out of Crip’s hand at a thousand yards or more. He may not have been trained in the military, but he was as good as any sniper I’d ever served with. There weren’t many people I trusted my life with.

  He was one of them.

  “Take ‘em all the time,” Goose replied. “I could make the shot at four times that distance. Maybe more.”

  Crip looked at me with disbelief in his eyes.

  I nodded. “Believe me, he can.”

  “Hopefully it won’t come to that,” Crip said. “If it does, sounds like we’re in good hands.”

  “Manos is easy to spot,” I explained. “Bald head, goatee, and only his hands are tattooed. His brother has a two-inch thick caterpillar on his lip. I don’t know if his cousin will be there, but he’s the most average-looking fucker I’ve ever seen. Black hair, dark skin, no tattoos. You’ve seen pictures of Alacrán, so you know what he looks like. Any of them point a gun at us, take ‘em out.”

  “I’ll do it,” Goose said with a nod.

  “Far as I’m concerned,” Crip added. “If any of them look like they’re arguing with us, take ‘em out. Shit can go to hell quick with people like this. Most of the time, there isn’t much warning.”

  “I’ll do it,” Goose assured him.

  “What the fuck am I going to do?” Pee Bee asked.

  “Stay here and entertain the women,” Crip replied.

  Pee Bee gave him a shitty look. “Entertain the women? So, I’m basically a clown?” He raked his long hair away from his face and held it in a ponytail. “Want me to tell them jokes and make some geese out of those weenie balloons?”

  “Just keep everyone at ease,” Crip said. “And, they’re swans, not geese.”

  “Don’t matter what they are.” Pee Bee released his hair and gave Crip a look. “I ain’t makin’ ‘em.”

  “Just do what you do,” Crip said. “Tell them stories and help them lose track of time. We’ll be back as soon as we can.”

  Pee Bee shoved his hands into his pockets and gazed at the toes of his boots. After a moment of thought, he looked up. “Feel like I should be a part of this.”

  “You are,” Crip said. “A big part of it. If we left those women with that nit-wit that’s in there, they’d be beside themselves. You’ll help the time pass with ease.”

  “I’ll tell ‘em about Meathead and that chuck of pork,” Pee Bee said with a laugh. “They’ll like that.”

  “Yeah. Tell ‘em about that.” Crip slapped him on the shoulder. “They’ll love it.”

  Pee Bee gave Goose a serious look. “I’m trusting you on this.”

  Goose returned a sharp nod. “I won’t let you down.”

  At three hundred yards, it wouldn’t take much to ch
ange the bullet’s trajectory. An inaccurate calculation on distance, elevation, temperature, or wind speed would be the difference between living and dying.

  I’d skirted death enough that I felt I was on borrowed time.

  Of all the things that troubled me about the impromptu meeting with the most notorious drug lord in existence, the possibility of not returning to give Carma a ride back to the restaurant bothered me the most.

  It’s strange what our mind attaches itself to in times of trouble.

  Crip looked at his watch. “He’s expecting us now. We need to get.”

  “Be back in a second,” I said.

  Crip gave me a stern look. “Where you going?”

  “Need to piss,” I lied.

  “Nervous jitters.” Crip chucked. “Navy SEALs don’t get ‘em.”

  “Well.” I shrugged and turned toward the door. “We lowly Army Rangers do.”

  179

  CARMA

  The men went into the garage to look at Pee Bee’s motorcycle. I was in the kitchen, talking and drinking a margarita.

  The women weren’t at all what I expected. Television, movies, and my exposure to biker women in the restaurant led me to believe that they’d be rough-looking, foul-talking vixens dressed in tight jeans, sleeveless tee shirts, and leather high-heeled boots fitted with metal studs and tassels.

  Crip’s girlfriend Peyton was tomboyish, very cute, and a reporter for the San Diego Tribune. Cash’s wife, Kimberly, was tall, drop-dead gorgeous, owned a nursery, and was very well-spoken. Tegan, Pee Bee’s wife, was an energetic brunette who devoted her life to nursing. Ally was adorable, with an air of confidence that preceded her. She was Goose’s fiancé, and a real firecracker.

  Ally asked Peyton if she had a deck of cards, and promised if she did, that she’d show me a trick. I sipped my margarita while I waited and scanned the group. I could see myself being friends with all of them.

  When Peyton returned, Ally took the deck of cards and thanked her. After removing them from the box, she fanned the cards apart, face down.