Shady Lane, huh? Fitting for sure. Sometimes I wonder if they named that street before or after it became a known street for druggies, vagrants and prostitution. Because it’s been like that since I can remember. I’m almost disappointed in myself that I didn’t think of it in the first place.
“PeeWee has eyes on the place until we arrive. So, if Bobby leaves, he’ll be following him and keeping us informed. We’re going to take the SUV and van. The roar of our bikes approaching can be heard from a mile away. He’ll definitely lead us on a wild chase if we give him the chance. One group of us will pull up to the front, but down the street a little ways while the rest of us pull up in the alley. I’ll assign one member apiece to each side of the house in case he tries to escape using a side window. Want to cover all of our bases. This is not a go in, guns blazing, shoot on sight mission. Yes, we take the women too. Can’t risk them going and blabbing their big mouths. We’ll figure out what to do with them once we have him secured and in our possession. He is a repeat offender to this club and one of its members. He will pay with his life.” Rogue stands, tugging the leather on his cut down as if he’s straightening it. “Since I’m sure Aria’s still shaken up, we will take him to our warehouse. Also, since the offense was against Aria in particular, I have decided to allow Sandman the honor of hand delivering this fucker to the grim reaper. There is no room for negotiation. There is however, enough room for all of us to draw some blood.”
Rogue looks at me and nods and I exhale as I feel the intensity of a sinister grin grow on my face. I’m ready. I’m thirsty. I want revenge, and I want it in the form of Bobby Kelson’s pain and blood.
8
Aria
Nervous energy filters through my veins. My thoughts are running rampant, worried for Hawke and the guys. Bobby is evil, the devil incarnate, and I don’t want my family to pay in blood. This family has been through so much already this past couple of years, but if I was seeing this from their perspective, I’d have to say that I’m sure they’re most likely looking forward to fighting, taking revenge and having their hands painted in crimson red.
“You’ve gotta chill before you worry yourself into an early grave.” Outlaw comes up with a shot glass containing clear liquid.
“What’s in that?” I’ve learned to ask, because with her, you never know what you’re getting.
“Moonshine.” She shrugs her shoulders. It’s the mirth dancing in her eyes that has me worried.
“The legal kind or bootlegger type?” I inquire.
“Does it matter?” she nonchalantly asks me.
“Girl, drink that shit. It’s the good stuff,” Harlow calls out.
“Be careful though, knowing Outlaw’s brewing friends you may end up with hair on your chest,” Talia teases.
“Drink. Drink. Drink.” They all begin chanting, egging me on. I take the shot glass, slam it on the bar top, hold it up in the air, then swallow it in one gulp. I start spitting and sputtering as it burns its way down my esophagus, making its way through my system.
“That’s some stout shit right there,” I manage to eventually stutter out.
“It’s the good shit.” Outlaw beams at me in pride. “It’ll numb you and make all your worries go bye-bye.”
“I can see that,” I dryly respond, still trying to get the taste of burnt liquor out of my mouth.
“Please, it’s not that bad. I could add some artificial flavor to it if you’re too pussy to drink it like real a biker-bitch.” Her taunting is beginning to piss me right the fuck off.
“Oh, I’m a real biker-bitch.” I take the bait...hook, line and sinker, if the smirk on her face is any indication.
“Prove it.” She pours me another shot and slides it in front of me.
“I will if you will,” I retort.
“New Mom, remember?” she says, pointing to her chest.
“I’m in,” Harlow announces as she leaves her position from coddling the newest club princess to come and stand next to us. “Don’t wimp out on me, Aria. Do you have what it takes to keep up with me?” she questions with a quirk of her eyebrow as Outlaw passes her a shot glass.
“Are you challenging me, too?” I question Harlow, squaring off my shoulders.
“I don’t know. Are you accepting if I am?” She tilts her head and is wearing a smile that has humor written all over it. “What do you say? Hmmm?” She lifts up onto the stool next to me. She’s halfway on and half off. Her leg lifts up and she props it on the metal bar that circles around the bottom part of the chair’s legs.
“Oh, it’s on,” I pronounce loudly and clearly. I want everyone in the room to overhear that I’ve accepted and countered the challenge. “The question is, Harlow, can you?” I inquire, slamming back my shot full of liquid fire. My body involuntarily shivers from the drink flowing through me.
She winks at me, salutes me with her own, and shoots it. “Damn, that’s some good shit!” She hits the bar with her hand and indicates with her head for another. Outlaw excitedly whoops out a shout and refills our glasses.
“It’s on, ladies!” I look over at Talia when Outlaw loudly hollers this out and see her roll her eyes. “Let the games begin.”
“Oh shit,” Talia says low, but loud enough that I hear what’s said.
“What?” Outlaw innocently inquires of her.
“When Sandman makes it back home to a drunk woman, I’m placing the blame solely on your shoulders,” Talia declares.
“So, what’s he gonna do to me? Nothing, that’s what.” Her head turns back to us and she slyly winks at me, which doesn’t leave me with the feeling of being all warm and fuzzy; she’s needling me. She knows she’s safe from repercussions here, her dad and old man would kill anyone who even looked her way with malicious intent. That being said, she gets away with murder and none of the boys will lift a finger or say anything that could potentially be taken as a threat or has the possibility of emotionally affecting her. Her tears are unacceptable by the protective duo.
The rest of us women don’t have the same liberties as she does, but that doesn’t mean we don’t push those invisible lines and warned-against limits. Especially when Harmony is standing at our backs. If she agrees with us and supports us, nine-tenths of the time, so will Merc and Rogue. I’m glad she’s on my side and I’m not someone she uses her connections against. Not to mention, she’s not one to be messed with alone either. If I was a stranger to her, I wouldn’t want to run into her in a dark alley. I’d be petrified and run in the other direction. She’s hardcore and the true definition of a biker-bitch. God I love her and wish I was just like her at times. She shows no fear and takes life by the reins and makes it her bitch. “Are you going to come back from the land of Never Never Land and join us?” She smartass-ly snickers.
“Sorry, I was lost in my thoughts. What was it you said?” I snarkily respond to her remark. She has a way of pushing your buttons if you allow her to.
“I said,” she draws out, “Get ready to get fucked the hell up!” Why is it I feel like this was set up before the guys left? Oh well, at least if I’m drinking, I’ll forget my worries where my man is concerned.
Sandman
It takes twenty minutes to arrive at our spots where we plan to stash the SUV and van. My legs are shaking and my fingers are twitching with the need to go and take vengeance on this motherfucker who’s done nothing but give my woman metaphoric nightmares since we were teenagers. I knew back in the day that having his football scholarship ripped out from underneath him, a few months in jail and all the fines he had to pay, not to mention losing his family’s money and support, he’d come back and seek retribution. He’s a weak man, always has been and always will be. Only a pathetic coward would attack a defenseless woman.
Whereas I don’t believe women are weaker links, I do firmly believe that women will never be as physically able to retaliate or defend themselves against an attack of a fit, muscular man. I do not condone nor defend someone who has a dick and hurts a woman in any way, s
hape or form. They are the weak links of the human race and need to be eliminated, something I’d proudly do for all of the abused females who exist. I finally understand why Mercenary enjoyed the work he did previously before joining the club.
“You good, man?” Edge asks as he places his hand on my shoulder.
“I’m good. Just ready to have this man hanging from a chain and getting some payback for the way he’s fucked with my woman. This day has been a long time in the making.”
“Man, I can see that. It took me a minute to get past the fact that I didn’t feel as if Talia’s ex got the payback he deserved. He got off way too fucking easily.” I watch as he flexes his hand as if imagining the pain he would’ve liked to inflict. Talia’s ex was an abusive piece of shit who met his end, but not justifiably and bloody enough in the eyes of the MC. It most certainly hasn’t dimmed Edge’s need to feel his hands coated in crimson red, defending his woman’s honor. That's something I’m going to make sure doesn't happen in this case. Bobby is going to feel every inch of my wrath; not a day will pass where he doesn’t imagine what I have in store for him.
“Get your head out of your ass, Sandman,” Rogue orders as he turns around and looks me square in the eyes. “We need your head in the game and to be all in.”
“I’m in, Pres,” I adamantly reply.
“Make sure that you are. There will be consequences if you’re not, ones that could affect our club as a whole. We aren’t little boys playing in the big boy’s league. This has to go as we planned; otherwise one of us could end up on a slab in the morgue or worse, wearing orange inside of a prison cell. None of which sound good to me.” He looks at me as if waiting for me to say me neither, instead, I simply nod my head. I’m afraid my temperament at the moment will get me into more hot water. Any answer I have will be said in a way that will get me into trouble with my President. I’m as tough as they come, but even I don’t want to cross paths with Rogue when he’s in a bad mood.
“It’s go time,” we hear Bane say into our earpieces. Pulling my gun, I cock it and make sure there’s a bullet ready to go in the chamber.
“Let’s do this.” I open up my door and step out. With me being Rogue’s enforcer, I end up leading the pack down the back alley. It’s dark now, crickets are chirping and dogs are howling as we pass their fenced-in backyards. My group, however, is moving as quiet as a mouse. The leaves crackling beneath our boots is loud in my ear, but silent to the world around us. We blend in perfectly with the darkness cover of nightfall and our footfalls sync to perfection with the man in front of, or behind each other. As we end up behind our targeted house, looking between the slats of the fence, I see a lock shining in the moonlight. I place my finger over my mouth then point to the fence. All of the men nod at me, accepting me going over and picking the object keeping the fence from opening. Getting my handy lock pick kit from my back pocket, I pull out the two tools I’ll need for a generic padlock.
Once I clear the fence, I scan the area looking for any threats I may have missed before jumping into this yard. Seeing none, I bend over. Beating my time of two minutes, I easily manipulate and unlock the piece of shit metal. “Come on in,” I whisper to the group.
“Wish you were this quick with all of your jobs,” Rogue jabs, still obviously upset with me and my actions lately. Instead of replying, I do my job and protect my president as we stealthily move to the backdoor of the house using the shadows from the trees as cover. The back-porch light has burnt out, making our approach that much easier.
“We’re in place,” Bane says into his mic. He and his men are going through the front.
“On the count of three,” Pyro, Bane’s enforcer states.
“10-4,” I answer in response.
“One, two, three,” he counts out loud before I kick in the backdoor as soon as the last number leaves his mouth. There’s no one inside we give a fuck about, so if someone gets hurt other than us, we couldn’t give a flying fuck. As long as Bobby makes it out alive, I couldn’t care less what his injuries are.
Just as the splinters from the door frame fly through the air, I see two feminine naked asses running from the living room and Bobby stands up, his dick swaying back and forth as he gains his balance. “The fuck? How did you motherfuckers find us?” he bellows with slurred speech, tossing his hands up in surrender.
Out of my peripheral I see Phantom and Stone grab the women up. “You sick fuck,” I spit out as I approach him stealthily. “You didn’t actually delude yourself into thinking we’d let this go did you? Come on, Bobby.” I ball my fist up and as it connects with his chest, the gasp from him as the air escapes his lungs is echoed. “Story, toss this motherfucker those pants on the floor next to his feet.” Story picks them up and tosses them at Bobby who’s still trying to recover and catch his breath but manages to grab hold of his jeans.
Rogue steps up and in between us. “Surprise, motherfucker.” He pauses long enough to pull out a smoke and light it up. His every move appears so nonchalant, but in fact he is anything but. “Looks like you were having a little party here, huh? You seem to be so interested in us; I can’t help but wonder what happened to our invitation.” Rogue’s gaze shifts to the naked women being held. Tasha attempts to scream but Phantom quickly covers her mouth with a chloroform-soaked rag he and Stone were carrying already prepared. Her struggle is brief before she loses consciousness. “Go ahead and do the same to the other one,” Rogue orders Stone and before she can squeal out, he’s got her mouth covered and she goes limp in his arms. “Throw some clothes on them,” he commands them both. Turning back to Bobby, he takes in a long drag from his cigarette before blowing out a ring of smoke directly and intentionally in his face. “Now, back to you.” Bobby’s rubbing the burn of the smoke from his eyes as he hops in place attempting to pull his jeans up. Using his free hand, Rogue pulls out his pocketknife. “I hear you like to prey on women.” He shakes his head, feigning disappointment in him. But in order for him to actually feel disappointment, he’d have to give a damn; which he doesn’t.
A smug smirk lines Bobby’s face. “I ain’t never done anything to a woman that she didn’t want.”
I lunge forward, ready to end his life here and now with that comment only to be met with the force of Rogue’s hand on my chest, stopping me. “You sick piece of shit,” I spit out.
Rogue has a way of appearing calm and collected when really he patiently waits for his moment to strike. This is what makes him so lethal in my eyes. Nonchalantly, Rogue looks down at his blade as he toys with it in his hand. “That so, huh? Well I ain’t never encountered any joker such as yourself that I couldn’t help keep a permanent smile on their face. But, being the gentleman that I am, I’m always happy to help. Sandman, Fox,” he calls out. “Hold this clown in place while I paint his face.” We each take hold of one of Bobby’s shoulders and although he puts up a fight, he’s no match for us. Well, that and Rogue’s a giant fucker and he’s managed to hold Bobby’s feet in place as he steps onto them with his steel-toed boots. “Hold still, Bobby. I’m trying to turn your beastly look into something more, well, beauty. You know, since you’re so fond of the ladies.” He draws the blade up toward Bobby’s face and since he’s still squirming, Fox and I use our free hand to hold his jaw still. Rogue grabs underneath Bobby’s chin adding to our hold on him. Drawing the blade up to one corner of his lips, he presses the sharp tip of the knife into his skin and skims it upwards; making an almost perfect line. Bobby groans out his discomfort as the blood pools to the surface and drips down his cheek. “Beautiful. Now, let’s even this glamorous look out, huh?” Rogue does the same to other side of Bobby’s mouth.
Beads of sweat have formed on Bobby’s forehead, but instead of fighting it or us, he lets out a maniacal laugh. This is intended to piss us off, and as much as it is truly getting the best of me, I follow the lead of my brothers and Pres and remain calm. “Rearrange my face. Kill me. I honestly couldn’t give a fuck. You thugs think you’re any better than me? Yo
u run around this town on those fancy bikes, sporting those ridiculous Boy Scout patches on those leather cuts. Everyone knows that the only reason Aria’s with you, Hawke, is because she threw herself at me in high school and I denied her. All I was trying to do the other day was finally give her what she’s secretly wanted from me all these years.”
With those words, I can no longer contain my fury or the minimal wrath behind it. “Hold him, Fox.” Reaching into my pocket, I quickly slide my fingers into my brass knuckles and connect perfectly with his jawline and watch as he stumbles backwards before spitting out a mouthful of blood and several teeth.
“Warranted,” Rogue looks at me and says before turning to Bobby. “But this is just the premiere. The pre-party if you will. It’s gonna take a lot more to knock your ass unconscious, big boy, but we’ve come prepared. Edge!” he calls out and Edge rushes toward Pres with a larger rag. “Night, night. We’ll see you in a bit,” he says to Bobby before placing the cloth over his nose and mouth. Bobby puts up a struggle, but again, he’s no match for the four of us. “Don’t fight it, darlin’.” As soon as Rogue says that Bobby’s eyes begin to roll and his lids begin to flutter. The struggle he was putting up lessens and I can tell he’s losing consciousness. “That’s it, princess. You get that beauty rest you so desperately need. See you soon.” When the struggle’s finally over, Bobby’s dead weight leans into Fox, Edge and myself as Rogue waves at him.
“He’s out. Drop him,” I let my brothers know and once he’s on the ground I give him a hard, solid kick to the ribs. “Scum. You always were.”
“Phantom, Stone!” Rogue calls out.
They approach him. “Yeah, Pres.”
“The girls?”
Stone looks over his shoulder. “Over there on the floor. We were waiting for your orders. Found a couple of shirts lying on the floor so we put those on them.” He shrugs.
Sandman's Awakening: Twisted Iron MC Page 8