“It’s become pretty evident in the past week or so that the Anarchists, in retaliation for me bringing in Officer Burton, are willing to strike at the police department. Official policy in such spots is to call in the National Guard or state officials for further assistance, but frankly, Romara is a town that likes to solve its issues through its own means. I am not particularly willing to do that unless we truly have no other option; such a move, though it will eliminate the Anarchists, will also mean the end of you and the end of Romara’s image as a peaceful, quiet town.”
I didn’t realize Sheriff Jones was that in bed with the Savage Kings. But, if he’s going to be in bed with anyone, might as well be the good guys.
And it’s not like I haven’t also kind of been in bed with one of them anyways…
“I would like to coordinate with the Savage Kings for a way to cripple the Anarchists. I have brought Officer Burton along because she has experience in dealing with these exact type of enemy. She has fought multiple MCs in Los Angeles. I assure you that she is not here to undermine you in any way, shape, or form. I have vetted her and she has promised me that she would not do anything to you.”
That’s not at all true. My goodness, you really are in cahoots with them, huh?
But he’s not wrong. I’m not trying to undermine the Kings. I came here because of the Anarchists. I guess we’re sacrificing the letter of the law for the spirit of it—I just wish we weren’t so flagrant in doing so.
“So with that said, let’s start planning, shall we?”
“Hold up.”
A younger looking guy, probably no older than 23, raised his hand as a gradual smirk came on.
“You’re telling me that this hot gal walks in here,” he said. “And I’m just supposed to believe—”
“Zane,” Brock said. “Treat the lady with respect, will ya?”
“I mean, OK, fine, you’re telling me this Officer Burton walks in here with a history like you just described, and I’m just supposed to believe you?”
“It’s a mutual situation,” Sheriff Jones said. “We need you, but you need us. I have zero interest in this turning into an argument over who has supported who more, but the reality is, we’ve turned a blind eye to a lot of the happenings of you guys. Now, do I care if you get too drunk for your own good? Not really, so long as you don’t bother the citizens. But if we wanted to, we could absolutely make your lives hell. Unfortunately, you could do the same for us.”
That’s a little more like it, Sheriff. That’s the kind of force that we need.
“So if I bring in Officer Burton, knowing that we can each make each other’s lives miserable if we don’t cooperate, you can know I do it because of the Anarchists, not because of some secret plot to undermine you.”
Zane seemed satiated enough with the answer, though a part of me suspected that he just felt it wasn’t worth pushing back, not that he actually agreed with the sheriff.
“We good?” he said. “Now then, with that—”
“All units, this is Officer Redd, we have multiple attacks of vandalism going on in Romara, over.”
Shit. All eyes turned to the two of us as our comms went berserk.
“Redd, this is Sheriff Jones. What do you mean, multiple attacks of vandalism, over?”
But we already knew. The Anarchists were striking back. And they were trying to divide us so that they could pick us off one by one.
“Sheriff, they’re everywhere! There must be a dozen of them, over!”
Shit.
“Let’s go,” Brock said. “Everyone to their bikes. Split up and take them as they come.”
“We’ll do the same,” the sheriff said, nodding to me.
With pleasure. Let’s go wipe out the real scourge of Romara.
5
Parker
Maybe I’m just not cut out to be in California.
I sat on the balcony, having put my phone to the side, trying to make sense of the world that I had found myself in. Arriving in California had almost been something of a weird accident; a job lead had taken me to the outskirts of Los Angeles, but layoffs and a chance to be in a group somewhat like the Marines kept me here. But that didn’t mean that I was someone who actually belonged in these parts.
I was a gun-loving, meat-eating, slang-slinging man who liked everything big and who was unabashed about my big personality. In true Texas form, if someone told me I couldn’t do something, I told them to fuck off and did it anyways. Worked great in Texas. Worked great in the Marines. Even worked at times in the Savage Kings.
But did not work in California. And most importantly, it didn’t work when I really needed it to out here.
Brock? Landon? Even Petey? Zane? They were California boys. They knew the scene. They knew how to be chill. But I wasn’t just a fish out of water—I was a fish in a desert, flopping around and with zero hope of finding a pond, let alone the ocean for me to swim back to.
It was hard to admit, especially since I loved those boys. But no one else who had ever become an officer had gotten banned or even suspended, at least as far back as I could reckon. Maybe I’d do well to just pack up, move to Dallas, and start my own club. At least there, the women would better understand me.
Or maybe you just claim you don’t understand and you’re shameless because you’re scared. Commitment? Fucking scary shit.
You want Liza, but do you really want her? I mean, really want her? Or do you just want her around at your convenience? Do you want her however you can get her?
At that moment, I heard the distant sound of motorcycles roaring to life, heading into downtown Romara. Admittedly, the sound of bikes would instantly perk my ears up, sort of like how a treat would instantly draw a dog’s curiosity. But at this point, I didn’t really think much of it. I just assumed that the Kings were rolling out for a meal somewhere.
But then another sound followed, a sound that foretold of something much more serious going on.
Sirens.
I listened more closely. There were multiple sirens and multiple motorcycles heading downtown. Something is going on. Something serious is going down.
I didn’t need to wait for Brock to give me permission. I sure wasn’t going to wait to have Liza’s approval to work in conjunction with her. At this point, I was a lone vigilante, going in to do my duty to protect the citizens of Romara. Or, if it sounded better, I was a former soldier heading back into battle to protect the innocent.
I bolted back inside, threw on just enough clothes, grabbed a rifle, and hopped on the bike. I didn’t bother to throw a helmet on as I sprinted toward Main Street.
The drive was only a few minutes, but it was enough for me to mentally focus myself. It was my chance to prove myself. It was my chance to prove I could stay in control, but also a chance to demonstrate the importance of actually fighting with a little recklessness. True recklessness would get one killed, but complete caution would allow you to get overrun. It was time to show Brock that old Parker had an idea of what the hell he was doing.
I saw the sign for Main Street just as one Anarchist turned the corner, holding a can of spray paint. I rode my bike right up to him, narrowly missing. He tried to pull out a gun, but I swerved back around and knocked him out cold. A part of me wanted to shoot him, but I decided at the last second that it wasn’t worth it. It was still early enough in the evening that citizens would be walking around, and though the screeching bikes probably gave away something was going down, I didn’t need full-on panic to set in.
But as soon as I turned the corner, I could see maybe that was more ideal.
“Mother of fuckin’ shit,” I muttered to myself.
Nearly every store on the street had a vandal of some kind in front of it. Savage Kings and police alike were trying to disperse the area, but there were just too many of them.
“Well, fuck it, pickin’ time,” I grumbled to myself.
No one was firing their guns yet, but that just meant I’d get a chance to use my fists as weapons of destructi
on. I rode my bike up to three different Anarchists and clocked them clean before they had a chance to pull out their guns. I took theirs, unloaded them, and tossed them down the street. The Romara police would get the chance to handle it.
But there was just one problem.
In all of the chaos, I could see most of my old friends and the police. I saw Officer Redd, I saw Brock, I saw Petey, I saw many other Savage Kings.
But there was no sign of Sheriff Jones or of Liza.
“Liza!” I shouted.
“No!”
And that’s when I heard a gunshot from a nearby alley, followed by a sickening thud.
6
Liza
I hopped in the car with Sheriff Jones, eager and confident in our abilities to defeat the Anarchists.
“You trust them fully, I take it,” I said, nodding toward the men hopping on their bikes, rifles thrown over their shoulders.
“Trust them enough,” he said. “They’ve never done anything to destabilize this town. If the worst I can say to them is that they need to tone down their drinking, then I don’t have a problem any worse than a family that has a son that drinks on weekends.”
“Guess that’s one way to look at it,” I said as we sped out of the lot, throwing out sirens and lights on. I pulled out my gun and checked it for ammo. It was fully loaded. But when I looked at the sheriff, he looked like he wasn’t in favor of it.
“It’s too early for that,” he said. “We’ll use it if we have to, obviously, but even the Anarchists won’t shoot up Main Street at this hour.”
“You sure about that?”
The sheriff snorted.
“About a month ago, I was.”
He didn’t say anything more after that. The words were too ominous for either of us to want to hear more. But that sure didn’t stop my thoughts from running faster than our patrol car took us.
They’re becoming more desperate. They’re living up to their name. They won’t be afraid to hurt us or even kill us if necessary.
“Forgive me, Sheriff,” I said, keeping my gun in my right hand. “If I keep this out for the duration of the violence.”
The sheriff looked at me, sighed, and gave a dark laugh.
“It’s not like the Kings will have their weapons holstered. I don’t suppose it’s going to make a damn bit of difference. Just be careful. I don’t think at this point, they’re going to be afraid to use citizens as shields.”
“Got it.”
I looked in the rearview mirror, counting off the number of Savage Kings with us. There were about a dozen in total, plus who knew how many in support. I wondered if Parker would hear us, and if he would come in for the rescue. It wouldn’t surprise me; given how eager that man seemed to try and get me back and get things the way they were, it would make sense that he’d go back to what he was comfortable with.
The part did surprise me was how much I found myself thinking about him and wishing that he were there. Although I had long learned never to judge an MC member by their appearance in the negative sense, I had learned that judgments in the positive sense were usually right. In other words, assuming that someone lithe and tiny couldn’t cause trouble was often wrong, but assuming that a big, bad man would cause trouble often proved right.
If that were the case, then Parker wouldn’t just be in the battle, he’d be one of the ones making the biggest difference. Brock had said he was the sergeant-in-arms, which would make almost too much sense; to have someone who was meeker or less forceful than Parker wouldn’t have made sense. Even if someone was in that role before, I seriously doubted that they would have lasted long with Parker chomping at the bit.
It’s what made him so attractive. He wasn’t afraid to go for it. Even in the face of seemingly insurmountable odds, he just came after me.
Better see you out there, buddy.
I put the thoughts aside as we finally reached Main Street. Sure enough, just as Officer Redd had said, there were about a dozen men causing trouble in the area. As soon as they saw us, they all fanned out, though two approached the police car, almost as if they were going to dare to cause trouble with us.
“Let’s take care of these two,” I said.
“Just be careful,” Sheriff Jones said. “The Anarchists like to set traps.”
“I’m well aware,” I said as I stepped out of the vehicle.
Several Kings flew past me, heading for other Anarchists further down the street. We’d all have our hands full for the foreseeable future; there was no point in trying to make sense of what they were doing. We’d have to coordinate almost by feel, not by on-the-ground strategy.
“Hands up!” I shouted as I pointed my gun. “Come on, buckos, let’s go!”
“Buckos,” one of the Anarchists said with a sneer. “You hear this bitch? What does she think, she’s our mother?”
“I said, hands up, assholes!” I shouted. “You’ve got three seconds before we make your life hell.”
“Three seconds? I think we got a little longer to live than that.”
“Three!”
“Should we run?”
They were toying with us. Something told me that we were about to get sprung. My eyes quickly surveyed the area, but I didn’t see anything that had me worried about an ambush beyond the general chaos of the area.
“Two!”
“Nah, man, give it one more second.”
This was definitely a trap. I stole a glance at the sheriff, who had come up to me, his gun also raised. The Kings were further down the road.
“One!”
The two Anarchists took off in a sprint.
“Fuck,” I muttered as I sprinted after them, holding my gun aloft in case one of them tried to shoot at me.
They were fast, but I was actually faster. Unfortunately, they had the advantage of a head start, which made it a hell of a lot trickier to catch them. I wanted some more Anarchists behind bars.
Then, just when I was about two seconds away from a lunge and capture, they turned the corner abruptly. I stopped at the turn and waited for the Sheriff Jones.
“This go anywhere?”
“It’s an alley,” he said. “But it’ll be dark.”
“Figured,” I said.
I held my gun up with a flashlight, walking in. There were a couple of dumpsters, some doors, and some trash littered on the ground, but there wasn’t anything that had me believing this was a trap just yet.
And then I saw them at the back, their hands raised.
“Shit, don’t shoot us!” they said.
“Get on the ground and put your hands out in front of you where we can see them!” I shouted.
Slowly, they fell to their knees. We moved forward, the sheriff keeping an eye on them, my eyes swiveling around the area. So far, so clear.
“Please don’t shoot us!”
“If you don’t do anything stupid, you won’t have anything to worry about!” I said. “So step—”
“We’re Anarchists, we won’t do anything stupid!”
“Not another word!”
And then I heard the worst sound possible.
The click of a gun, prepped to fire right behind me.
“No more words need to be said,” an all-too-familiar voice said. “Like he said, we’re Anarchists. We don’t do anything stupid. Quite the opposite, in fact.”
Vulture. Rick Richards. Shit!
“Do you have any idea, Miss Burton, how fast you were going just now?”
He cackled with laughter as more of the Anarchists came out of nowhere. Even if I spun and killed Vulture, I’d be dead in a matter of seconds. There was almost literally nothing that the sheriff or I could do that would not result in our deaths.
“You have been a massive pain in our side. You are aware of that, I assume.”
“What the fuck do you want?”
“Want?” he said. “Why are you asking such questions when you know it will do you no good? Why do you concern yourself with such matters that, the more you
ask about, the more you will suffer as a result? Do you not realize how idiotic and foolish your decisions are?”
I bit my lip as I “seriously” began to consider killing this man just so I wouldn’t have to hear him keep bullshitting and talking.
“You know, we were happy to keep our feud between the Savage Kings and us to just that. Mano e mano. Your boss here was smart enough to stay out of it for quite some time. But as soon as whichever one of you decided that outside help was needed, the game changed. And when the game changes, everyone either has to adapt or die. You can guess, Miss Burton, which option we prefer.”
“Save the pompous speeches,” I said. “I came here to bring justice to you and to this town.”
“And you think you’ll succeed, now that you’re here?”
As if on cue, all of the Anarchists started to laugh—even the ones that had supposedly just surrendered a few moments before.
“Face it, Miss Burton, you made a mistake coming here, and now, you’re going to suffer the consequences.”
“Kill me, then,” I said. “I’d rather go to the grave having not heard a grandiose speech from a narcissistic sociopath.”
But truth be told, I wanted the dialogue to go on a little further. I was looking for a way out—anything. I wondered if, if we kept talking, one of the Savage Kings might notice something going on here and help us. Maybe I’d get Vulture hostage, and we could escape.
But it wasn’t looking good. I really didn’t think at the start of this run I was going to die, but now it seemed more and more likely. I can’t. Not now.
No, get a grip, Liza. Figure a way out of here. It’s the only way.
“Well, you’re not really in a position to be negotiating, are you, Miss Burton?” Vulture said.
“What fun is it if you don’t get to bargain a little bit on your death bed?”
But I had run out of things to say, and Vulture looked to be growing bored.
“Don’t kill them,” he announced to the group. “We don’t need outside forces coming in yet. But do whatever you want with them. Make sure they never forget who the Anarchists are.”
Forbidden Love Page 3
