Dragon's Burn

by Brooke Warren

  The grumbles grow and only get worse when a few club girls come strutting over. All three are around my age, maybe a little older, each one attractive in their own way, but none of them do it for me—none of them are Poppy. The way they’re licking their lips, batting their eyes, and giggling makes it seem we’re some sort of forbidden fruit they can't wait to get their hands on.

  “Hi, boys,” the long-haired brunette croons. They take in each one of us, and I do my best to fade into the background, not wanting to be noticed.

  “Evenin’, darling.” Brewer grabs the brunette with short hair by the waist and pins her against his chest.

  My eyes flick to Riggs, wondering when he’s going to step in and stop this before we have the entire Black Hill MC out here. Since we’re in the outcast group, we don't get privileges with any female claimed by a Legion MC group. The blonde, whose tits are falling out of her cropped shirt, makes her way over to Riggs, running a palm up his chest.

  “You look like a good fuck,” she purrs.

  I roll my eyes and notice a few Legion guys now whispering to each other and motioning in our direction. Someone needs to stop this; I’m not dying tonight for these bitches. Moving around from the back, I stand beside Riggs to address the female.

  “Listen, sweetheart, you and your friends need to find someone else to play with. Rules are rules, and I like my dick where it’s at.”

  “Aww, fuck off, Dragon,” Tazer whines, jerking the girl out of Brewer’s arms and into his. She squeals in delight. “If they wanna taste a real man, then I'm happy to lend my cock.” He bends down and kisses the woman in his arms. This doesn't go unnoticed.

  Four Legion guys make their way over to us the same time Ace and Garvyn come out with Domonik, the president of this chapter, and I'm assuming, his four officers are on his heels.

  I take a few steps back and try blending into the night. My warning falls on deaf ears, and the only thing I have on me is a pocketknife. I’m fucked if shit starts going down.

  “What the fuck you doin’?” Ace growls at Tazer. Riggs seems unaffected, still holding the blonde. His posture is relaxed, almost like he’s bored. Sometimes I think the guy would be happy to have someone end his life for him. Better than continuing to walk around with whatever pain and guilt he’s holding inside.

  “What? She came over here, wanting a good time. I thought it’d be rude if I didn't step in and meet her demands.”

  Wrong thing to say.

  Domonik steps forward and leaves about a foot gap between him and Tazer. His wide frame and bald head seem to engulf Tazer. I cut my eyes to JD, who doesn't look at me but gives a small shake of his head in understanding. He’s standing right behind Tazer and does the smart thing by moving away from him and closer to me. If Tazer gets his head blown off, I wouldn't want his blood and brains all over me either.

  “You new, boy?” Domonik asks.

  I scan the growing crowd and calculate my odds of making it out alive. The odds are not in my favor. In fact, they are so bad, I start a mental checklist of things I never got to do that I probably should've done and compare it to the list of things I did do. My conclusion so far has me summing up my life as a drugged up, fucked up, motorcycle club man-whore who became somewhat reformed near the end. Ah, life achievements one can be proud of.

  “I said, you new, boy? Or have the Fallen forgotten their fucking place?”

  From here, I can see the wide eyes on both Tazer and the brunette, who is trying to extricate herself from his hold. The slow, exaggerated movement of his Adam’s apple is a tell of just how freaked out he is. It’s easy to run your mouth until someone bigger or more powerful than you threatens you.

  “I. . .umm. . .a few. . .months,” he stammers, his fear coming out in every syllable.

  Domonik steps closer, and when he does, the female squirms out of Tazer’s death grip to get away. He yanks her by her hair and shoves her in the direction of the clubhouse.

  “Shelly, get your ass back inside. Now. We’ll discuss proper behavior later.” All three women run for it, even though he only addressed one. Their scared whimpers are left behind in the humid southern air.

  Domonik grills Tazer; it's a wonder he hasn't pissed himself. I've only met Domonik one other time, and that was enough to know he’s right up there in the fucked up in the head department.

  “You think it’s ok to touch what's mine?”

  “I. . .no, sir. . .I. . .” Domonik reaches out and grabs his balls, squeezing them so hard it looks like his eyes are going to pop out of his head. The only sounds Tazer can make are small squeaks, his face turns beat red. I flinch, not from fear but because I'm thinking about my own nuts and how bad that looks.

  “Fallen, don’t get what’s ours. This is your only warning. Touch anything of ours again and I won’t hesitate to blow your fucking dick off.”

  He lets go of Tazer, who collapses and curls into a fetal position as he groans. I have no sympathy for him. Fucking dumbass did it to himself.

  “You done? I’d like to get this show on the road.” Riggs’ gruff voice pulls everyone's attention from the man-child writhing on the ground.

  Domonik whips his head to Riggs, who is still looking unamused. What’s with everyone tonight? I swear it’s like they are all asking for early caskets.

  “You’ve got balls talking to me like that.”

  Riggs shrugs. “At least I've got both.”

  I catch my mouth from falling open. I see Domonik’s shoulders start to move, and before I know what’s happening, he’s throwing his head back in a deep belly laugh.

  Is he seriously laughing?

  Domonik walks over and throws an arm around Riggs’ shoulder. I mentally shake my head—tonight is full-on fucked-up. You can feel the tension in the air dissipate, the men on both sides of the invisible line letting their shoulders relax. Except for Tazer. He’s still on the ground balled up, no doubt holding back vomit.

  “You’re a fucking asshole, and if I didn’t like you, I’d put a bullet in your head. Let’s go.”

  He and Riggs make their way down the side of the building. I’m a bit dumbfounded, but like everyone else, I follow behind them. If I was a religious man, I'd be saying a prayer thanking the higher powers for blessing me with more time. But I’m not. Instead I glance at my phone, pretending to check the time when really I’m curious if Poppy messaged me. Did she get home safely? Is she still awake? Have I screwed up my chances for a second date?

  “Dragon, you listening?” Ace is glaring at me, what else is new?

  “Yep.” Nope.

  Another run. Got it.

  Another risk we’re taking that could land us in jail or dead.

  Damn, I can’t wait to get away from this life.

  Ryu

  “Sup, fellas?”

  I see Cracker strolling toward us. He used to be in Legion’s Fallen but gained his rank back in the Legion MC a couple years ago. There hasn’t been another person from the Fallen that’s moved up since. And I know that eats at Ghost, too.

  He still looks the same, scrawny with eyes that are too big for his face. I glance down at his hand and can’t help but snort, thinking about how he earned his nickname. Dumbass decided to get drunk on the 4th of July and play around with firecrackers. Almost walked away with no hand. Motherfucker is lucky he only lost two fingers, and they were able to repair the rest.

  He clasps a few Fallen members he knows then makes his way over to me. “Sup, Dragon? Long time.” Cracker and I were friends before he left. He was the first person in the Fallen I spoke to after arriving.

  “Sup, man? I’m hanging in there. You?”

  “Same. Moved back here about six months ago.”

  “Was wondering about that. Thought you went back to Georgia.”

  He snorts. “Yeah, didn’t work out, and I wasn’t about to get demoted to the Fallen again. So, I came here. Like the area anyway.” He averts his eyes, and I know not to press for any more information.

  �
�You running with us tonight?”

  He shakes his head. “Yeah, gotta earn my keep.”

  “All right, ladies.” Ace whistles, gaining our attention. “I’m only saying this once, so fucking pay attention. This is a Fallen run, but Domonik is sending some of his grunts to tag along. Leading will be Garvyn and Dragon. Driving will be Skeeter and JD. There will be two in front of the truck and the rest behind. I’ll bring up the rear. Any questions?”

  When no one says anything, Ace dismisses us. I cut my eyes to JD, who looks about as unsure of this as I am. I’m never in the front, never. And he’s never been with the driver. Ace just made me a prime target if we encounter any Rebels. I swear he has a hard-on for me. Before I make my break, I will smash that fucker’s face in.

  Turning on the engine of my bike, I rev it a few times before moving over next to Garvyn. He gives me a nod, and we set out toward the planned route. Since we are leading the pack, he and I ride ahead and scout the area. We use shortwave radios to communicate with the driver. Everyone knows that if the driver slows down, cops are up ahead. If the driver turns around, we’ve got hostiles, and either we kill the ride or find an alternate route. Provided we don’t get spotted first.

  I’m on high alert. Peering out into the dark, waiting for an ambush. We’re riding through the mountains, that doesn’t leave a lot of hiding spots. Something about tonight is just off; everything about it, since I got the call that interrupted my date with Poppy, has felt wrong.

  As the miles tick away, so does the anxiety bouncing around inside. It’s not until an hour and a half later, when we pull into a warehouse, that I take my first real breath. I hate this shit. I’m not ready to die or go back to jail—things are finally starting to look up.

  We’re greeted with ten Legion MC, Diamond Back members. As I’m releasing the kickstand, the box truck pulls in. I don’t care about exchanging pleasantries, so I stand off to the side, watching—always watching. These guys don’t owe us anything, and for all I know, they could be working with the cops. I mean, we did just bring them 40 cases of AR-15s.

  I’m getting antsy, and once the cash is in Garvyn’s hand I’m ready to get the fuck out of here. We saddleback up, Skeeter and JD riding double. Me and Garvyn take the lead again. We’re about halfway back to the Black Hill’s clubhouse when I see headlights in the distance, and they don’t belong to a car.

  Fuck!

  I’ve only got a knife on me.

  “Hey!”

  I hear Garvyn yell, and when I look over, I see a handgun in his outstretched hand. I snatch it, knowing I’m screwed if caught with it, but I’m not about to go into a potential fight without protection.

  Controlling a bike and shooting a gun is not as easy, or as cool as they make it look like in movies. I don’t slow down, even with a gun in my hand. All I can see are two headlights, but that doesn't mean there aren’t more with their lights off—if it is the Rebels.

  The moon is shining bright tonight, but we’re about to go through a drag that is blanketed in darkness by branches blocking out the light. My adrenaline is running on overdrive. To my right is the rocky side of the mountain we’re coming down, and to my left is a drop—a long fucking drop. With them on our left, we could force them over the side, but depending on how many of them there are and what weapons they have, they could run us into the mountainside, smack into the large protruding rocks.

  Here they come.

  3

  Gun peeking over the windshield, I aim at chest level.

  2

  I suck in a breath.

  1

  The loud roar of the bikes echoes through the air as they pass us. Two. Only two bikers and I didn’t notice a cut. I slow down, cut my lights, and bust a U-turn. Garvyn does the same. When our crew passes us, Ace, Cracker, and Tazer pull up beside us, the rest know to head straight for the clubhouse.

  “We’re about ten miles from the border. I’ve already sent word to Domonik, and he’s sending riders to meet us,” Ace informs.

  I mean, it could’ve just been two night-riders on a trip. But if they are Rebels scouting their territory, we’ll have company in no time.

  No more words are exchanged as we wait.

  And wait.

  And wait some more.

  Thirty seconds? Five minutes? I’ve no idea how much time has passed, I’m too amped with adrenaline.

  “No one’s coming. Let’s go,” Ace says. We turn back around and follow Ace.

  The first pop echoing off the mountains has my back stiffening.

  Gunshot.

  It’s a sound I know all too well. I look back and see headlights, a group of them, hauling ass in our direction.

  “Go! Go! Go!” Garvyn yells.

  I lean into the bike as we pick up speed. The next several pops are closer. They’re gaining on us. Everything inside me is running on fight or flight. Survival mode has kicked in, my focus only on getting across that line and making it out alive.

  More shots are fired, and I swear I feel a bullet fly right past me, like a ghost whispering its terrors over my skin. I break out in a sweat, the beads falling down my back. It’s a rush of emotion I haven’t had in a long time.

  I open the throttle, hoping to stay far enough ahead of the rival gang that I’m out of firing range. It isn’t lost on me that I am currently dancing with the angel of death. It’s chasing me. Taunting me to slow down or speed up; either one could end in my death. With how fast I am flying down the mountain, one slip could kill me just as quickly as one of those bullets.

  Gunfire rings in the air again, but what I hear next has me glancing at my side mirror. A bike flies into the side of the mountain and explodes on impact. I’ve no idea if it was one of ours or theirs, but I can’t stop to investigate.

  I turn my attention back to the road and see a familiar straightaway up ahead. The border dividing Rebel and Legion territory is within my reach. Elation fills me, but I know I’m not out of this shit yet. As soon as the road straightens out, I pick up even more speed. Being pulled over is the least of my concerns tonight.

  All that matters is staying alive.

  What should’ve been a thirty-minute ride down the mountain, I made in ten. And when I cross over the line, I don’t stop. There’s no stopping until I pull into Black Hill’s parking lot. I know better. And as shitty as it sounds, my life is worth more than any of the fucks I’m with.

  I speed past the green sign telling me what county I’m in now. Couldn’t tell you the name, don’t care either. The only thing that sign represents is me living to see another day. The weight of impending death slowly recedes off my shoulders until it disappears altogether, once I’m face to face with the Black Hill clubhouse.

  The rest of the Fallen are waiting. Their concern and relief aren’t directed at me, but more that they’re still upright and breathing. And seeing it brings the same relief—we survived.

  We don’t have to wait long before Ace, Garvyn, Tazer, and a few of Domonik’s crew roll in. There’s one person missing, though—Cracker. Most people would’ve turned around and gone back to search for their fallen member, but not us. He’s as good as dead, and if death was granted in that explosion, then he got off lucky. No telling what the Rebels will do to him if he’s alive.

  It’s eye-opening, though.

  One minute I was talking to him and in the blink of an eye, he’s gone. It’s sobering; that could’ve been me tonight. A shudder rolls through me. This is why I need out. The longer I stay, the faster the clock on my life moves. Spending six months in jail woke me up to the fact that things need to change. This, however, is like the cherry on top.

  Domonik calls everyone inside, and Ace recounts the night’s events in detail. Hearing it all recounted erases any reservations I may have had.

  By the time the meeting is over, and I make it back to my house, I’m exhausted. The amount of adrenaline that was dumped into my body is long gone. With sluggish movements, I manage to get in the house, JD behind me, and mov
ing just as slow. Falling face first on my bed, I pass out as soon as my head hits the pillow.

  Ryu

  A loud noise yanks me out of a deep slumber with a jolt. I’m momentarily disoriented until I process that it’s the alarm on my phone. I had set the alarm prior to the ride last night. I roll over and turn off the blaring sound.

  Flipping onto my back, I stretch and feel all the stress pulling on my muscles. Prior to last night, the tension was reasonable. Now, everything pulses with a dull ache. I’m fucking tired, but I have to work today. Sleep will have to come later.

  I notice one new text message—from Ghost.

  Pres: 4pm. Office.

  Short, sweet, and to the point. I roll out of bed, scramble around half-dazed, and throw some clothes on. I've got twenty minutes to finish getting ready and be at the clubhouse if I want to be on time.

  I make it into my father's office with two minutes to spare. Because I'm the last to show, I stand by the door. Everyone from last night's run is here. Melancholy sets in, reminding me of what happened and what could’ve happened. Pushing all that to the back of my mind, I focus on being excited instead—payday.

  “All right, boys, here’s your cut from the job.”

  Ghost takes the stacks of money on his desk and tosses one to each person. My face falls when I count it out. Three hundred? I got three hundred bucks for that? What the fuck! I almost died last night. I got five hundred for going to a stupid ass high school party. In what world does this make sense?

  I look around and notice everyone else is feeling the same thing I am over this. A palpable tension starts building in the room. This chump change isn't even close to what we should've gotten for that escort. I want to open my mouth and bitch, but what good is it going to do? I’ve no idea how much the job paid in the first place and saying something will only make me look like I’m calling Ghost out for skimming us, which is part of his M.O., so not too far-fetched.