by Snow, Nicole
The basement was a little more interesting. A couple shotguns were laid out on a work bench, too clean and new to be antiques hanging out in Gil's place.
Papers were strewn across the chipped table, next to a couple hammers and a case of beer. I grabbed them and flicked on my lighter for some light.
“Holy shit.” Couldn't stop the words when I saw what the fuck I had.
It was some shit scrawled in black ink over a ledger with the Ivankov logo at the top. The Russian mobsters based around Chicago did business with us sometimes out West, usually smuggled their shit through Seattle with our blessing and a hefty protection tax.
Chinese dealings ramping up in SeaTac, and they mean business. They'll hit your club hard if you don't hit the fuckers harder first.
Fool them. Play nice. Then break their skulls open. We'd rather do business with your boys than the Black Dragon assholes any day.
-Lev
Shit was dated about a month ago. Snarling, I tore the corner, stuffing it into my pocket. The other shit was a mishmash of notes back and forth between Gil and some asshole in the Black Dragon mob.
The lying Tacoma Prez acted real friendly, pretending he wanted to sit down for drinks and deals with the fuckers.
I wanted to believe he did all this shit by paper like a hundred fucking years ago because the cock hanging outta his mouth was too big to talk.
I flipped through more, taking it all in, quick little notes between Elle's old man and some mafia fucker – Zee.
It all made sense. Finally.
Gil hadn't turned rat. He wasn't the greedy asshole I'd thought, trying to make a special deal behind California's back with the goddamned Chinese.
It was worse than that. The stupid, stupid, stupid motherfucker was trying to gut the Chinese all alone, and he'd dragged Elle into it too.
Had to get this shit to the Prez. There'd be time to ball the Russians out later for going to Gil first instead of Blackjack.
Fuck, I had to save my girl!
I tucked the rest of the papers underneath my arm and ran outta the house. Still didn't have a clue where those fuckers were, but I'd find them. Just hoped to hell I'd get there before I turned on the radio tomorrow and heard about a massacre with one dead blonde caught in it on the local news.
Tacoma's clubhouse was almost as empty. When I rolled up, a couple scared looking prospects pointed guns my way, hiding behind the gates.
I marched up to the iron bars and put my hands on 'em, shoving my face through the middle. They nearly shit their pants.
“You're wearing the wrong bottom rocker,” a kid named Carbon said, trying to sound tough. “We're not letting you in. Don't give a shit if you're the asshole who married the Prez's daughter.”
“Open the fuck up. The whole Redding crew's on its way, and there's only two of you. Otherwise, you'd be calling for more guys when I'm standing on your doorstep like a fucking wolf.”
The two prospects looked at each other. The other one had smaller balls. His gun went down so fast his buddy swore, reluctantly walked over, and pounded the switch for the gate.
I waited while it slid open.
Soon as I was inside, I put my arms around them both, and shoved them to the fucking ground in one swift push.
“Ow! What the fuck?!” Carbon roared, squealing louder when I stomped on his leg. Hard enough to scare him, press his ass into line, rather than do any real damage.
“Listen up, boys, both of you. Club rules say you're both with me now. You've been drafted. I'm guessing your officers are all MIA. That puts you under Redding's control since I'm the only full patch brother here.”
“Brother? You? Fuck me!” The other guy rolled, trying not to choke on the irony.
“Yeah, asshole,” I growled. “We'd better start acting like it, too. I'm guessing you wanna earn your bottom rockers and save your boys. Can't say I give a fuck about your futures in this club, but my old lady's with your boys, wherever the fuck they scampered off to. Here's how it's gonna go down...”
They didn't protest when I finally let 'em up. They took me inside the clubhouse and went to the bar.
They spilled everything there – all they knew, anyway.
I listened to 'em talk about the big raid, the dirty deal going down with the Chinese that wasn't really a deal. It was a goddamned ambush, just like I already knew.
None of these boys could've been any older than twenty-one. About the same age I was when I took on the patch for life and drew my first blood for these colors. They'd both made the right choice, saved themselves from a blade in the guts.
If Lady Luck decided to give us all a nice, big kiss today, then they'd both have a long life of drinking and whoring ahead.
I'd settle for undoing everything that happened yesterday at the park. As soon as backup came, we'd all be heading down to that warehouse where something had obviously gotten fucked up. They said their guys left hours ago, and hadn't checked in since.
I wasn't waiting to save my girl. Forget the divorce, forget disowning her, I hadn't meant any of that shit when she forced my hand.
I'd win her back, and make sure she knew her place forever this time. I'd tape her sweet lips shut if it saved her from ever risking her life again. And I'd also kill every last brain dead sack of shit who'd dared to put her in danger – even her old man. Shit, especially her old man.
Didn't care if the fuck was dead and I had to drag his ass up outta hell to do it. I'd make him pay for putting my woman's life on the line, so help me God.
* * * *
I hadn't been fully sober this long in years by the time I heard the roar of my brothers' bikes. It felt like a fucking eternity waiting for them to show, and now that they were here, it was like a lightning bolt struck down my throat and got me moving.
Fists at my sides, I marched out before they climbed off their bikes and started busting open the gate. Soon as they saw me coming, everybody relaxed, Roman especially. I motioned to Carbon, and he smashed his hand on the gate's button with a sour look on his face.
“It's clean. No need to do a sweep,” I said, nodding at Blackjack. “Just a couple prospects inside, and they're with us now. Come on, we can't waste another minute.”
“Easy, son. Chances are the Chinese have already ambushed Gil and his men. We've got to make sure we aren't wandering into the same trap.” Blackjack got off his bike and stormed past me, moving as fast as his old war wound in the leg would carry him.
No way was he fucking serious, right? I wasn't gonna sit down and rehash all the intel I'd already fed Roman.
We'd wasted too much precious fucking time already. Elle Jo could be rotting away in some goddamned pit for all I knew!
“I can't let her die with them, for fuck's sake!” I started heading for my bike, pulled off just to the side. “We've gotta go now. The Chinese think they got the drop anyway, and they probably did with Tacoma. They won't see us coming. Let's –“
“Prez is right. Easy.” Roman slapped me on the shoulder and squeezed so hard it hurt. “We can't just ride in there with our dicks hanging out. You're letting your emotion do too much talking, brother. It's gonna make you a dead man.”
Behind him, Brass and Rabid nodded. Motherfuckers.
All of them. I'd seen them working with the same manic energy boiling my blood when their girls were on the line. Yeah, the fucks were trying to do me a favor now, making sure cooler heads prevailed, but it sure as shit didn't feel like it.
“Asphalt, don't waste your energy taking swings at your brothers.” The Prez stepped up, sensing the tension, looking like a wizard when the wind blew his long gray hair. “Let's huddle, son. Ten minutes. Just one of our boys getting shot because we could've used our brains is one man too many, I say. And as long as I'm sporting a patch that says President, you'd better believe what I say in this club is law.”
Much as I didn't want to admit it, he was right. I tried to pay attention to everything coming outta the Prez's mouth for the next ten minutes, j
ust like he'd promised.
Too fucking bad my mind was anywhere but here.
I couldn't stop thinking about Elle Jo. Almost as much as I couldn't wait to throttle every last sonofabitch who'd dragged her into their damned mess.
Blackjack rattled off some elaborate strategy like the sorcerer he was. I looked at the brothers one-by-one, sharing the same wicked energy brewing in their eyes.
Once he was finished, the Prez gave the order and we got on our bikes. The two Tacoma prospects rode by my side, all the better to keep them in line if nerves got to 'em. No man ever forgets his first battle, and these poor fucks didn't have as much on the line as I did.
My thoughts rambled like a goddamned freight train as we tore down the highway, weaving around cars, heading for the docks where the warehouse sat.
Hang on, Elle baby, I'm coming. I'm never letting go again, no matter how many times you stab me through the heart.
We're doing things different, babe, mark my word. I'm gonna save you, fuck you, and love you 'til disobeying me again is the last thing you've ever got on your mind.
And if you don't like it, I don't care. I don't fucking care.
You belong to me, and you always will, even when I'm telling you don't like a goddamned fool.
We're coming. You're coming home. Then I'm gonna make you come so hard on my dick I break every defiant little shred in your body.
* * * *
We knew the Tacoma boys had run into deep shit when we perched on the hill overlooking the warehouse district. Roman looked through his binoculars and grunted, muttered something about rows of abandoned bikes.
He also said he saw a truck parked by the wall with blood all over the driver's seat. The lazy fucks hadn't bothered to clean up whatever the hell happened there.
I helped the big guy pull the fat tube off his bike and start setting it up. I've never handled a fucking cannon before.
Mortar, to be precise, the sorta portable shit guerrillas used when they wanted to put some explosive teeth into their hit and run attacks. This one wasn't gonna be blasting anything fatal, though.
Once we had it together, the Prez pulled his smoke outta his mouth and stubbed it out on the ground.
Blackjack looked at Brass, Rabid, and the two prospects who'd rode up from Redding. “Go.”
They rode down the hill like demons, doing several passes around the warehouse, careful to shoot at anything moving inside if it looked remotely Chinese.
All hell broke loose when our group rounded the back. Orange fire exploded just ahead of my brothers' bikes, sending thick black smoke up into the sky above it. Roman's walkie-talkie hummed static, screams, and a raging curse that let us know our boys were still alive, even if they were busted up pretty bad.
Fuck, fuck, fuck...
I was already getting on my bike, the Tacoma boys at my side, before the Prez gave the order.
We roared down the same slope as the others, but this time we made a fucking beeline for the center gate.
The flash grenades Roman slung outta the mortar blew up a little bit ahead of us, just on the other side.
Perfect fucking timing.
About five Chinese assholes in suits came running out, guns drawn, just in time to get blinded. I didn't even duck as all three of us crashed through the gate, flattening it underneath our bikes.
Shots were already going off behind the warehouse, off to the side where our boys had driven into the big blast.
Fucking shit. The prospects at my side didn't have my aim. Most of their shots went all over the fucking place, but they managed to pin the mafia assholes down. A strange calm came over me, allowed me to put all five of 'em down like dogs with neat shots to their rotten heads.
I didn't kill my bike and step off it 'til I saw them stop moving. Then I charged, yelling after those fucks behind me to follow, hoping that shit Roman had on the hill wouldn't lob another flash bomb and blind us.
No way of knowing how many assholes we'd taken out. The shooting off to the side was dying down.
I hit the service door and found it locked. I swore, gave it my best kick, and cursed bloody murder when it didn't budge an inch, hellfire running up my leg.
“Get the fuck over here and pry this thing open, assholes!” I screamed at the prospects. “Gotta see what the hell's going on around the corner. Gotta –“
Another blast cut me off in mid-speech. We weren't the only ones who'd brought a few bombs to the fight.
The latest blast was just a distraction. No sooner than I looked at the latest orange plume rising high into the air, a van came tearing out the opposite direction. Fucking thing grazed Carbon's bike and nearly took out mine before it swerved.
It wasn't slowing down, not when the driver knew there was hell behind 'em.
It went tearing through the gate we'd knocked down, trying to catch it, but the motherfucker was just too fast.
I prayed to whatever gods had saved this club's ass in the past that Roman would take out their tires and cut them down before they got away. I prayed even harder that Elle wasn't inside, that we weren't too late to save her.
We couldn't be wasting our time here, killing assholes who were nothing but a distraction, while the real bastards escaped.
Too much shit was happening at once. The prospects busted open the door to the warehouse just as two more bikes rolled up, a very dazed and cut Veep with Rabid at his side.
Relief rolled through me to see them safe. Thank fuck for small favors.
They jumped off their rides and followed behind us as we pushed our way inside, guns drawn.
I almost puked when we walked through the dirty old cafeteria. It smelled like a fucking slaughterhouse. We saw why about a second later.
Men with bloody Grizzlies MC cuts were stacked up in a pile, dismembered and rotting.
“Holy fucking shit!” Brass swore, smacking himself across the forehead in disbelief. “That's gotta be half the Tacoma charter!”
The prospects lost it. They both dropped to the knees and barfed their guts out, Carbon and the other guy alternating holding each other.
I couldn't even roll my eyes. I'd expected some nasty shit before, but I'd never seen a fucking abomination like this.
Forced myself to keep moving. Had to. Not 'til I had Elle home and safe.
As the only asshole who wasn't paralyzed, I walked up and started combing through the dead bodies, holding my breath while I shoved severed limbs aside. All the guys had their throats cut, and it looked like the chop shop came later.
I held my breath, desperate to see whether or not there was a woman in there too.
Had to know if Elle was with them – even if it was gonna kill me as dead as all these poor sorry bastards.
“Christ, bro, what the fuck are you –“ Rabid grabbed me by the shoulder and flung me around just as I finished.
“She's not here,” I said, trying not to shake. Then the brief flash of giddy joy I hit the fucking wall. “Oh, fuck. The van...”
“Yeah, shit, we'd better check with Roman. It's all up to him now.” Brass took one look at the gory mess I'd just combed through and shook his head. “Fuck. We're gonna hang this Zee asshole from his goddamned balls when we catch him. I can't believe this shit. All these guys with a Washington patch might be fuckers, but they're our fuckers.”
“We'd better get our vengeance going fast,” Rabid snapped. “We've got about five minutes to light this place up before every cop in the whole fucking Seattle area sees the smoke and descends on this place. I'd be surprised if some asshole hasn't phoned it in yet.”
Shit. He was absolutely right.
Grizzlies always made a policy to cover up our battles, and we didn't have much time at all to burn this place to the ground. At least it would buy the club some time to bribe the investigators who'd find what was left, and save everybody in Washington from Fed snooping – if there still was a Tacoma charter worth saving.
“We have to find Elle. We gotta comb this place before it
burns the fuck down! I'm not waiting up.”
“Asphalt!” Brass swore behind me as I took off, heading outta the cafeteria through the old swinging door. “Goddammit!”
I couldn't get the van outta my skull. If they'd carted her away for more torture, more brutality, then I'd make theirs a thousand times worse. I tore through the warehouse, ignoring the pungent smoke beginning to drift through the empty spaces, all the signs this place was primed to go up like an exploding fucking blimp.
“Elle! Ell-e Joooo!” I screamed my lungs out, hands around my mouth to project it.
I stopped, held my breath, listening harder than I ever had in my fucking life.
Somebody tried to scream. Except they couldn't, their voice stopped like they'd been gagged. I kicked aside a few old crates stacked against a storage container – mercifully empty – and found three Tacoma boys hogtied with dirty socks stuffed in their mouths.
Fuck. Reaching for the One-Eyed Jack first, I tore off his gag and yanked him to his feet, pulling my switchblade to his bound hands to get the rope off.
It was their Veep, that battle hardened, scruffy motherfucker with one eye named Line.
“Where's Elle Jo?!” I screamed in his face.
“Elle? What the fuck? We've got to go after the van, brother, the Chinese took off with our fucking Prez and –“
I punched him clean across the face. Fucker was too dazed to fight back. I didn't give a shit about what they'd done to these poor bastards, or even the fact that asshole Gil was missing.
If the next few words outta his mouth didn't have to do with my girl, I'd knock him out cold.
Elle Jo took up a hundred percent of the space in my fucking mind, and she wouldn't quit 'til I had her in my arms.
“Is she with them? Did those fucks cart her away too?”
Line shook his head. “Storage. We need to get the fuck outta here.”
He pointed with his free hand, beginning to work on cutting his brothers loose with the other. He'd ripped the blade right outta my hands, and I didn't even give a shit. I ran up the small ramp to the metal box and began pounding with both fists.