by Lilly Atlas
Something about the infinite, open terrain soothed his soul. Reminded him the world was so much bigger than his issues. For most bikers, riding on a clear night was a near spiritual experience.
Not the case tonight.
“So, what’s the game plan here?” Jester asked as he rolled his bike up alongside Acer.
The two of them, along with Striker, Hook, and Lucky straddled their parked bikes in a row at the end of the road where Acer tailed the faux club brother. Up ahead, about two hundred yards, two yellow beams of light shot out from a large semi, cutting through the shadows.
It hadn’t taken long to determine a predictable pattern. Acer had been illegally monitoring satellite images of the area since he learned about it. Each night between midnight and three am, the action happened.
He and his brothers coasted the last mile on their bikes, headlights off, to avoid tipping off anyone on lookout. One thing Harleys weren’t, was stealthy. Each man donned all black, and he would never admit it to Fia, but in fact, they each had a black ski mask in case this got up close and personal.
“Plan is to get close enough see what their set-up is, where the weak spots are,” Acer said as he scanned his surroundings. I’d also like to get eyes on some of these guys’ faces, pics with your phones if possible. I can run them through my computer and try to find out who some of these fuckers are.”
Lucky snorted. “So what, we’re just supposed to waltz on up there and ask them to strike a pose and say cheese?”
Acer rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t quite have that part figured out yet. That’s why I wanted you all here tonight, so we can scope it out and see where the best point of entry is.”
Jester snorted. “Some genius you are. Shouldn’t you have this all worked out already?”
“Okay, shut it you guys.” Striker held up a hand. “Looks like quite the operation they have up there. Maybe our best bet is to try to get someone hired by these assholes. They can feed us info and I don’t have to spend too many nights in the fucking cold, away from my bed and my woman.”
Acer nodded. “I think that’s a good idea. Anyone owe us a favor that’s not in the MC?” He pointed toward the activity in front of them. “If any of these workers are local, they’d recognize most of us.”
“I can do it,” Lucky said. “I’m new enough in town that hardly anyone knows me.”
Striker nodded and shoved an unlit cigarette between his lips. “That’s not a bad idea. Let me run it by Shiv before I give you the go ahead.”
“Lila hasn’t beaten that habit out of you yet, VP?” Hook asked.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Striker shot his friend a death glare.
Hook laughed. “I’m talking about that cigarette.”
“What cigarette?”
“Yeah, like she can’t smell. Your funeral, brother.” Hook held his hands up.
“That’s right, mine. And it ain’t even fuckin’ lit, so shut the fuck up about it.”
Hook snickered. “First off, you were gonna light it eventually, and secondly…you’ve been married long enough now to know that she will have your balls for this. Lit or not.”
“Fuck.” With a scowl for Hook, he tossed the butt to the ground and kicked sand over it.
Lila was always on their assess about smoking, but none more than her husband. He was having a bitch of a time kicking the habit.
“Hey, look.” Jester elbowed Acer and pointed toward a pair of headlights moving in their direction.
“Shit. Looks like it’s time to roll out, boys.” Acer looked over his shoulder. “Or maybe not.”
Another two sets of headlights descended upon them, essentially boxing them in on the road. Hiding was impossible in the open desert. They could hop on their bikes, split up, and head off-road in the desert, but as dark as it was, and with as many tiny shrubs as there were, it was a recipe for disaster on a bike.
“Oh, fuck me,” said Jester.
“No thanks,” Lucky replied. “I like my playthings with a little less cock.”
Jester grabbed his crotch and smirked. “Ahh, so you finally admit my dick’s huge.”
Striker choked on a laugh. “Will you two shut the fuck up and cover your fugly mugs. Shit’s about to get real.”
Acer dismounted his bike and pulled the wool mask over his head just as two pickup trucks cruised to a halt about fifty feet up the road. The vehicle behind stopped about the same distance out.
Three men spilled out of each truck in front of them and a quick peek over his shoulder revealed two climbing from the truck to their rear. Adrenaline zinged through Acer’s blood as he flexed his fists. He could use a good fight. He hadn’t had much opportunity to train since Fia’s kidnapping. Any trip to the gym reminded him of what she went through.
It had been weeks since he felt the energy release of his fists making contact with something, even just a heavy bag. Combine that with the frustration of not being able to locate Mike, and he could definitely get behind pounding the shit out of someone.
“You boys lost? You looking for the nearest bank? Ain’t no ski slopes around here.” A big man with a bushy red beard slapped a wooden baseball bat against his palm. Acer didn’t know his name, but he was local. He’d seen the guy around town on various occasions.
Jesus, Fia would laugh her face off when he relayed the asshole’s bank robbery insinuation. Wait—what? He wasn’t going to tell her any of this.
The ringleader smiled, revealing at least two missing teeth. “Some rich assholes pay us a lot of dough to keep garbage like you out of their business.”
“Well, you have the asshole part right,” Acer said. “Wellington is definitely a grade-A asshole.”
If Red was surprised Acer and his crew knew the name of his employer, he didn’t show it. “Like I said, he and Caldwell pay us well to keep their business private, so you being here is a problem for us.”
Wellington and Caldwell.
What. The. Fuck. Fia’s father was involved in this? Shit. How had Acer not discovered this yet? Could Fia know about this?
No.
Fuck no!
Last time he’d been this confident of someone’s loyalty, his best friend ended up in prison. As much as he wanted to believe Fia wouldn’t betray him, he just couldn’t take the risk.
“Fuck it, this turns into a brawl we ain’t gonna be able to see for shit with these on.” Striker muttered as he pulled his mask off and stepped forward. He wasn’t one to shy away from a physical altercation.
Red snorted and looked to his goons on either side of him. They weren’t as tall or bulky, but they each had a homicidal gleam in their eyes, like they couldn’t wait to get a piece of Striker. Guess they didn’t know how lethal the VP was with his fists. “Oh this is gonna be fun, men. I’ve been itching to take out some biker trash for years.”
Jester scoffed and pulled his ski mask off as well. “You sure you want to start something, dude? You can just drive around us and get back to your little operation without any broken bones.”
The ringleader laughed. “Bigger they are, the harder they fall,” he said. Jester had about five inches on the guy. “And we outnumber you. Think we’ll take our chances.”
Acer wasn’t worried. Hell, two of their guys were named for their boxing abilities. He himself was better on the ground, but could hold his own when punches flew. Jester was just plain huge, so one thump from his meaty fist was often enough to end a brawl, and Lucky was a trained Marine. No, he wasn’t worried at all.
He glanced to his right. Jester and Striker wore similar evil grins. On his left Lucky rubbed his knuckles and Hook bounced on the balls of his feet.
The hairs on the back of Acer’s neck rose to full attention and he whirled around, just in time to dodge a fist flying toward his face. Jester wasn’t quite as fast and he grunted as a man half his size barreled into his back.
Years of MMA training kicked in and Acer raised his hands, protecting his face. He jabbed
at the lanky man who attacked him, catching him under the chin. Apparently, his opponent had no clue how to fight, because he left his soft face wide the fuck open.
Without warning, Red’s wooden bat landed right across his sternum, immobilizing his arms and leaving him vulnerable to the lanky man’s knuckles. A punch to the gut stole his breath and another to the jaw had him spitting blood on the sand.
Fuck this.
He rammed his head back and smiled when Red cried out. The pressure around his chest dissipated immediately as the bat fell and he charged forward, catching the lanky guy with a punch to the side of his head that had him crashing to the ground. He spun, knuckles up, prepared for more, but no attack came. Seven of the eight meatheads who’d confronted them lay sprawled out on the floor groaning and clutching some part of their anatomy. Acer smiled a broad grin at the scene before him
His brothers also looked a little worse for wear, but nothing some ice and a little TLC from their women wouldn’t cure.
Red, in better shape than his cronies, wobbled to his feet spitting bloody phlegm to the ground. His bat lay about fifteen feet away in the sand. “Big fucking mistake,” he said, attention on Acer.
Acer raised an eyebrow. “Care to tell me why?”
He swiped at the blood flowing from his nose. “You No Prisoners think you’re fuckin’ invincible.” He grinned a bloody smile. “You have no idea what’s coming. Only a matter of time before you’re all in the slammer.” He shook his head. “What a shame it will be, all those whores, what do you call them? Ol’ ladies? All those ol’ ladies without their men, lonely and looking for some dick. I’ll be sure to pay each one of them a visit.” He thrust his hips forward and back.
Acer clenched his jaw. He wouldn’t be baited by this shithead.
“You got an ol’ lady? She’ll be first on my list.” He rubbed his crotch.
Acer’s blood sizzled in his veins. He took a deep breath to keep the rousing beast asleep.
His brothers only half paid attention, each using some plastic zip cuffs to secure the rest of the thugs. Hook rummaged through each vehicle one by one.
“She’ll beg me for it. And if she don’t?” The piece of shit shrugged. “Maybe I’ll just take it anyway.”
“Oh shit.” Jester’s warning registered somewhere in the back of Acer’s mind, but it didn’t matter. He snapped, straight in two.
Acer charged, caught his bearded opponent around the waist, and crashed him to the ground, flat on his back. He rose to his knees, straddling the guy, his full weight on his chest. The guy struggled for breath, so focused on getting air, he never saw the first blow coming.
Acer’s fist collided with the side of the brute's head. A satisfying pain shot from his knuckles to his shoulder. Damn that felt good. It didn’t take much imagination to swap out Mike’s face for this loser. He swung again, colliding again with the guy’s face. Then again, and again, until his mind was clear of everything except thoughts of keeping Fia safe.
“Acer! Yo, Ace. That’s enough. He’s had enough, brother.” Jester’s voice cut through the red haze.
A sturdy hand gripped his bicep, halting the next blow. Acer shook his head to clear the violent intentions and rose to his feet. On the ground, Red lay bloodied and moaning.
He should feel regret, guilt, some kind of repentance for losing his shit all over this guy, but he didn’t. Any threat to Fia was a threat he’d gladly eliminate.
“Hands gonna be okay to ride?” Striker asked.
Acer flexed his fingers and hid a wince. Knuckles on both hands were split and bloodied. His ribs hurt like a son of a bitch from where he’d taken a hit to the flank. “I’m fine. We ready to roll?”
Lucky snorted then grimaced, rubbing a hand over his face. The shiner Acer had given him was re-swelling in a grotesque palette of dark purples. “While you had all the fun, the rest of us were on cleanup duty. We can bug out whenever.”
Striker nodded. “Nothing useful in their trucks. We did snag their ID’s so you can do your thing, Acer.” Striker was sporting a split lip and bloody nose. “Damn,” he said as he dabbed at his mouth. “Lila’s gonna kill me.” He pointed to his mouth and winked. “Kinda alters my plans for her for the rest of the night.”
Acer laughed and mounted his bike. “I’m sure your woman will survive one night without.”
“Either way,” Striker said. “I’m ready to get back home to her, so lead the way.”
Acer revved his engine and sped off into the night. No point in trying to be quiet when they’d already been discovered.
His hands stung and his head throbbed. He gripped the handlebars with as gentle a grip as he could manage. All he could think about was getting home to Fia.
Christ, here he was thinking along the same lines as Striker, a married man. He might be going home, and Fia might be there, but he wasn’t going home to Fia. He’d do well to remember that.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Fia woke to a crescendo of motorcycles engines. She rolled on her side and glanced at the glowing clock on the nightstand. Two-fifty-nine in the morning. Geez, Acer had been gone a while.
She slipped out of bed as she heard the alarm deactivate and the door rustle open. She slid her feet into her slippers and padded down the hallway rubbing at her chilled arms. Acer kept the place just a hair on the cold side, though it always felt amazing when she returned from the sweltering outdoors.
“Man, do I need a fucking drink.”
Was that Lucky?
“Keep it down, asshole. Fia’s sleeping.”
She smiled at Acer’s grouchy tone. Always looking out for her. She stepped into the kitchen. “I’m awake. Everything go ok—holy crap! What the hell happened to you two?” Bruising mottled both handsome faces and each man’s gait was stiff and stilted.
She rushed forward and cupped Acer’s swollen cheek. “Do I need to call Lila?” Her stomach rolled. They’d obviously been in a fight. A million questions ran through her mind, but she held them back…for now.
He pulled her hand from his face and pressed a kiss to her palm. “No babe, we’re good. Besides, she’s got her own battered biker to attend to.”
With a gasp, she yanked her hand from his grasp. “Acer! Your knuckles! They look awful. Let me get you some ice. Then we’ll clean off your hands and see if you need stitches or anything. After that you can tell me everything that happened tonight.” He raised an eyebrow and she gave him the look right back. Damn man wouldn’t tell her if it was going to rain because he wouldn’t want her to worry about getting wet.
Well, that was going to change. She wasn’t some fragile flower who would wilt at the first sign of trouble. A laugh almost bubbled out. Given the past few weeks, Acer had no reason to believe she wouldn’t lose her mind over a bit of bad information. She’d just have to show him, and herself, that she could handle life’s uglier side just fine. If she was going to resume her life in California without the crutch of Acer’s presence, she had to be able to stand on her own two feet, and that meant dealing with shit as it came. She brushed aside the feeling of sadness that swarmed her whenever she thought of leaving. Now was not the time for that.
Acer chuckled. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, saluting with bloodied fingers.
She gave him a quick peck on the cheek and moved to retrieve some ice from the freezer.
Lucky rummaged through Acer’s cabinets and pulled out a bottle of whiskey. “What the fuck am I? Chopped liver? My face hurts like a bastard. You gonna come kiss up on me too?”
“No.” Acer’s answer was out of his mouth almost before Lucky finished the question.
Fia rolled her eyes and chuckled. “I’ve got a bag of ice for you too, Lucky. I’m sure you’ll have no problem finding a warm and willing female to nurse you back to health.”
He bobbed his eyebrows then winced when the puffy skin around his eye contracted. “You’re right, baby doll, I could totally milk a slutty nurse fantasy out of this.” He took a drink straight from the mo
re than half-full bottle. “Damn, that’s some smooth shit.” He held up the bottle. “This is why I like you, buddy.”
Fia pressed a Ziploc bag full of ice into Acer’s free hand as he flipped Lucky off. “You owe me about seventy-five dollars for that sip alone.” He took the other bag out of her hand and tossed it to a grinning Lucky before pulling her close to his side, his arm around her shoulders as though he didn’t want her close to his brother.
She hid her smile. The swell of happiness Acer’s subtle possessive and jealous gesture inspired would be her little secret.
Lucky took another swig from the bottle before setting it down on the counter and lifting the baggie of ice to his eye. “Damn that feels good.”
Acer grunted his agreement.
“Well, I know it’s early, but I won’t be able to go back to sleep now and I’m sure between the two of you, there’s enough adrenaline and testosterone flowing through your veins to fuel a rocket. Why don’t I make some breakfast?” She pointed to the rapidly emptying bottle next to Lucky. “You’re gonna need something to absorb all that anyway.”
“Only a fool turns down the offer of a home-cooked meal by a gorgeous woman.” Lucky winked at her with the one human-looking eye.
She chuckled. “You can’t be too injured if you can still flirt like that.” She patted Acer on his flat stomach then pulled away, rummaging through the fridge. “Pancakes and bacon good?”
“That’s perfect, babe. And you could cut Lucky’s tongue out, but he’d still manage to flirt.”
“That’s true, but it would severely limit me in some other extra-curricular activities that I typically excel at. Fia, any time you like a demonstration, you just say the word.” He winked and ran his tongue along his top lip.