by Chiah Wilder
“I think I’ll go to the shelter for a bit, then over to the yoga studio for a class. I’m sure I can find something on TV to entertain me tonight.” Pointing to his hand, she asked, “What are you doing with my keys?”
“We’ll take your car, and I’m driving. Are you scheduled at the shelter?” He didn’t like her being around Brady when he wasn’t around.
“No, but last night ended real weird. What was up with Brady? He acted like we were committing a crime when all we were doing was kissing in the parking lot, in a dark corner, after my shift was over. He was so pissed and out of line.”
Anger pricked his skin when he recalled how disrespectful Brady had been, especially to Ashley. It had taken all he had not to deck the asshole right then and there, but he didn’t want to beat the jerk to a pulp in front of her. Instead, Smokey told the director to “Fuck off” before he got Ashley out of there.
Cocking her head to the side, she asked, “What did he call us?”
“A bunch of sex-starved seals,” he bit out.
“That’s it!” She snapped her fingers. “Sex-starved seals!” She fell into a fit of laughter. “What the hell does that even mean?”
He couldn’t help but smile in spite of the anger brewing inside of him. He loved the way she laughed—unabashed and melodious.
“I can’t believe he read us the riot act, like he was my dad or something.”
“The jerk has a hard-on for you. He was pissed ’cause he wanted to be the one kissing you. If he crosses the line again, my fists will teach him the meaning of respect.”
“I’m glad you didn’t get into a fight with him last night. I think he’s just a lonely man who wants to find a mother for his kids.”
“There are plenty of women in town. If he keeps up his shit, I’m gonna set him straight. I’d rather you didn’t go to the shelter unless I’m with you.”
“Let’s not ruin this moment. I can take care of myself. And besides, he’s never there on Sundays.”
Grunting, he opened the door, stepped into the garage, and pushed the opener.
“My keys, please,” Ashley said, heading to the driver’s side.
“I’m driving.”
“Are you afraid?”
He snorted. “No—I’m not afraid of shit. I don’t like being a passenger.”
“Or,” she said, running a finger down his arm, “you don’t like women drivers.”
A smile formed on his lips. “I like you.”
“You know what I mean,” she said, playfully slapping his chest.
“I know you’re beautiful, sexy, sassy, and irresistible.”
She batted her dark lashes at him. “Am I?”
Grinning, he tugged her to him. “You know you are.” His lips skimmed against hers as he spoke. “Now, get your sweet ass in the car.”
Giggling, she walked over to the passenger side and slid onto the seat as he settled behind the wheel, starting the engine.
Glancing at the clock on the dashboard, Smokey saw that he had three hours before he was expected at the club. That would be enough time to shop, prepare a killer meal, and get it on with Ashley one more time before he had to leave.
Turning left at the stop sign, he headed toward the market.
The dry grass crunched under Smokey’s boots as he walked around to the back porch of the club. Leaning against the wall, Tank looked up from his phone, lifting his chin.
“Hey,” Smokey said as came up beside him. “Are you ready to teach those fuckers a lesson?
“Hell yeah.” Removing two joints from his pocket, Tank handed one over to Smokey. “I heard you brought a chick to Willy’s yesterday.”
Putting the spliff between his lips, he lit it up and inhaled deeply. He kept the heady smoke in his lungs for a few seconds as he gazed out at the forest, and then exhaled.
“Yeah. So?”
Shrugging, Tank took a long hit from his joint. “You never came back the other night, so I ate your burger. It was fuckin’ good.”
Smokey nodded and took another hit.
“Where the fuck have you been?” Klutch asked as he came out through the screen door.
“Probably with the chick he brought to Willy’s,” Tank answered.
“Yeah, I heard she was a real looker. I bet it’s the one from Twisted Spoke the other night.” Klutch looked at Smokey. “I saw you head out with her. She’s the one Cruiser and Eagle were hot for. You know, the black-haired chick with the sweet ass?”
In one fluid movement, he pitched the rest of his joint at the dirt near Klutch’s feet before slamming his fist into his face. Klutch stumbled back, his hands flying to his face.
“You fucking asshole!”
“I told you before to stay the fuck outta my business.”
Klutch rushed toward him, fists raised high. “You wanna fight? Let’s go.” He swung at Smokey, and the two men proceeded to trade blows.
“What the fuck are you two sonsofbitches doing?” Hawk yelled.
He pulled Smokey back, while Throttle grabbed hold of Klutch. And Tank? He lit up another joint.
Hawk pushed Smokey back so hard, he almost lost his footing and ended up on his ass. With the back of his hand, he swiped the blood at the corner of his mouth while glaring at Klutch.
“Save this bullshit for later. You’ve got club business to handle tonight. I should beat both your asses good,” Hawk growled.
“What the fuck’s going on between you guys?” Throttle asked.
“This fuckin’ asshole”—Klutch pointed at Smokey—“needs to stop thinking with his damn cock.”
“And this motherfucker needs to stay outta my business,” Smokey gritted out.
“Is this about that woman you brought to Willy’s?” Hawk asked, looking between the two.
Neither man responded. They just stood there, scowling at each other.
Hawk turned to Klutch. “Leave the crude jokes and remarks for sweet pieces, not a brother’s woman. Show some fuckin’ respect.” He then looked over at Smokey. “Get your fuckin’ head on straight before you head out at three.”
Klutch wiped his hands on his jeans. “You should’ve told me she was your woman. I thought she was just a piece of ass.”
“Now you know,” Smokey grumbled.
Tank grinned. “Well I’ll be damned.”
Klutch gripped Smokey’s shoulder. “Let’s go in and have a shot.”
The men went inside and walked to the main room. There would be fifteen of them heading to Cottonwood. The seriousness of the mission created a somber mood among the brothers. Once they went over the plans, Smokey would wash up, gather his weapons—a Glock, a rifle, two hunting knives, a switchblade, and a bully stick—and meet them at his SUV. He’d drive along with Puck and Shadow. The cages were necessary to keep their presence less noticeable. Fifteen Harleys roaring into a town smaller than Pinewood Springs would tip off the assholes who’d earned the Insurgents’ wrath.
Downing his shot, Smokey headed to the conference room.
18
Rain spotted the windshield of the SUV as Smokey drove toward Cottonwood. Flipping on the wipers, he listened to their rhythmic sound as they cleared it away.
“Those assholes are gonna find out that Insurgents don’t tolerate anyone fucking with us,” Animal said.
Tank blew out a ribbon of smoke. “It’s about time we set those fuckers straight.”
“Who the hell do they think they’re dealing with?” Throttle growled.
Looking in the rearview mirror, Smokey caught Throttle’s gaze. “It’s Skeet’s doing. Before he joined the club, we didn’t even know who the hell they were.”
“Yeah, but he didn’t force them. They’re just as guilty as that motherfuckin’ traitor.”
Shifting in the passenger seat, Rock peered over the seat and looked in the back. “At this point, it doesn’t matter who started this shit. All that matters is that we end it.”
Smokey nodded. “You’re right about that. I’ve had enough o
f this pussy club—Skeet in particular.” He pointed to a small cooler on the floor next to Rock’s feet. “Hand me a bottled water.”
Pulling one out, Rock unscrewed the top and handed it over. “Anyone else want something?”
As the Sergeant-at-Arms passed out bottles of water and cans of soda, Smokey concentrated on the road and the soothing click-clack of the blades against the windshield. A slow smile spread across his face as he thought of Ashley, and the conversation among the brothers faded into the background. The last two days he’d spent with her kicked ass. The way she writhed and moaned, confirmed she enjoyed fucking him as much as he did her. They were good together. Not only in the sack, but in other ways. For starters, Ashley was a good listener, with an uncanny ability of getting him to reveal parts of himself he didn’t like sharing. How the fuck does she do that? He’d never opened up to anyone—Willy included—as much as he did with her. And the kicker was, he felt comfortable doing it. It had seemed natural to share the dark memories of his past with her, and in doing so, the demons he’d managed to keep sequestered most of the time had a little less of a stranglehold on him. But even better than opening up to her was the trust she had in him, willing to lay bare her fears and weaknesses. By telling him about her childhood, she let him into her life, giving him a glimpse into her dreams and hardships, which blew him away.
The women he’d hooked up with were all in for a good time—sex, booze, and a walk on the wild side. Talking wasn’t what they wanted. They craved the excitement of being on the back of a Harley, the thrill of fucking an outlaw, and the excitement of the biker world. The chicks never asked him shit about who he was and where he came from. And for as long as he could remember, that suited him just fine, until he met Ashley. She turned his world upside down, making him question everything he thought he knew about himself.
Earlier that morning, when her smoldering blue eyes watched him as he fucked her, realization had nearly slammed him on his ass. He wanted her in his life. He wanted to spend time talking with her, laughing about stupid shit like “sex-starved seals”, taking long rides with her pressed against him. And, of course, fucking her senseless.
Thinking of a woman being in his life was strange to him, because he’d never wanted to settle down. His parents had shown him how fucked up relationships were, and he’d liked the drama-free life of casual hookups and one-night stands. So, to even think about Ashley as his “woman” was huge. But the truth was, he couldn’t get enough of her—she was in his blood. She softened the hard edges and brought light to the dark corners of his heart.
Crushing the water bottle, he threw it onto the floor. Damn, I never saw this coming. She just slipped into my life when I wasn’t even looking. But with her captivating eyes, soft as silk skin, luscious body, as well as all that sass and confidence, he never stood a chance.
“You’re pretty quiet,” Rock said, interrupting his thoughts.
“Just concentrating on the road.”
“Skinless and Rusty said the assholes have about five club whores,” Throttle said.
“That complicates things, for sure,” Smokey said. “We don’t have a beef with them.”
“I wouldn’t put it past the pussies to use them as shields,” Animal remarked.
Tank nodded his agreement. “Chances are high they’ll do that. We gotta go in and do what we need to before the fuckin’ badges get there. Sometimes, the innocent get caught in the crossfire—that’s the casualties of any war.”
In matters of conflict with rival clubs, the Insurgents strived to keep the club girls and old ladies out of the melee, but sometimes, it didn’t work out as planned. There were times when a club girl or old lady tried to shoot or hurt an Insurgent during a club war in order to protect one of their bikers. Some of the Insurgents—Tank, Hawk, Diesel, Buffalo, Gopher—were ex-military, and knew what a war entailed. They were the ones who usually outlined the plans of attack on their enemies.
“And the prospects confirmed all the SOBs are living there, right?” Throttle asked.
“Yeah. We got all the rats in one place,” Rock responded.
“Once we get near Cottonwood, I’ll let you know so you can call the prospects,” Smokey told Animal.
“Sounds good.”
Silence fell over the group. Before an attack, it was important to focus and clear the mind of everything but the objective. Detached coolness was necessary, and could be the difference between life and death. Nothing mattered at that moment except for carrying out the mission.
By the time they’d reached the outskirts of Cottonwood, the rain had stopped, and the rapidly falling night obliterated any lingering light. Trees and shrubs, smudged like charcoal, lined each side of the road.
“We’re approaching Cottonwood,” Smokey said, breaking the silence.
Animal pulled out his phone. “I’ll call Skinless.”
A low ring came from the back seat, and from the rearview mirror, Smokey saw Tank putting his phone to his ear.
“It’s Chas,” he informed Smokey in the mirror. “Puck wants to know where we’re at. They’re already at the designated spot.”
“Tell him we’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” Smokey turned right onto a small dirt road.
The prospects, and three of the brothers—Hawk, Wheelie, and Helm—had scouted out the place for a few days. They had also found an abandoned shed, where the prospects had been staying at for the past three days, making Molotov cocktails while watching the comings and goings of the rival club. Several large oak trees shielded the shed from all sides, thus making it the perfect place for illegal activity.
When Smokey pulled in front of the shed, he saw Puck’s and Shadow’s SUVs parked to the side of the storage unit. Killing the engine, he eased out of the vehicle, stretching his arms over his head, loving the way his tense back muscles relaxed.
As he approached several brothers, he heard Wheelie say, “Four pit bulls is all.” He joined the group, listening to the last-minute details as he slowly rolled his shoulders forward and back.
Rock pointed a finger at Shadow. “Once I give the signal, you”—he then pointed at Puck— “you, and”—his elbow nudged Smokey’s arm— “and you, will get the cars and bring them to the fuckers’ clubhouse. Once we’re done, we gotta haul ass. The prospects will make sure there’s nothing left at the shed. They’ll take off when you guys get the cages. The goal is to hit hard and fast. We want to be out of there as fast as we can.”
“Are we gonna air condition the place?” Blade asked.
“We don’t know who else is in the clubhouse. The pussies may have kids in there,” Smokey said.
Rock agreed. “He’s right. We don’t wanna hurt anyone but those fuckers.”
Air conditioning a rival’s clubhouse meant riddling it with bullets. If they knew for a fact that the only ones in the club were the members, they wouldn’t have an issue showering the place with bullets. The Insurgents had no problem showing their strength, but they tried to avoid hurting innocent people as much as they could.
“What did the prospects say about it? They’ve been on surveillance for the last three days,” Wheelie said.
“Cruiser and Hubcap spoke with them, and they said there are definitely club whores inside, but they didn’t see any kids, old ladies, or hangarounds,” Rock answered.
“Based on that, it looks like air conditioning the place is a no-go,” Smokey said.
“Looks that way,” Rock replied. “If we spot any fucker outside, we’ll take them down. Otherwise, we’ll go in through the front and back door with brothers stationed at the east and west side windows. Remember, we wanna go in hard and fast.” The men murmured their agreement. “Okay, then, it’s time to rock ‘n’ roll.”
It took almost thirty minutes for the men to reach the Rising Order’s clubhouse, a bright yellow ranch house amid a group of small warehouses. The name of the club was painted across the front of the house, along with the word Private in large red letters. Painted on the do
or was a replica of the Rising Order’s patch, with the bottom rocker displaying Colorado as the club’s territory.
“I’m gonna destroy that fuckin’ door,” Smokey muttered.
A chain-link fence surrounded the place, with several Beware of Dogs signs dotted throughout. There was no activity outside, but a heavy bass beat radiated from inside.
The Insurgents scattered into the blackness for cover, and to wait until Rock gave the signal to move in. The crescent moon, and the dim spattering of stars in the sky, did little to lift the impenetrable inky blanket concealing them. The minutes ticked by. The tension was so thick, a knife could cut through it. Smokey’s adrenaline was flowing. He was itching to storm the asshole’s clubhouse, ready to sink his fist into Skeet’s smug face.
Smokey saw Axe in a crouch, moving fast and low toward him, Tank, and Chas. “Jerry and Blade took care of the dogs,” he said when he reached them.
“Did you see anything?” Smokey asked.
“Yeah. It looks like most of the fuckers are in the main room. A couple of them were fucking a chick in the kitchen.”
“How many women are in there?” Chas asked.
“I saw about five. The assholes are snorting, boozing, and fucking.”
Tank rubbed his hands together. “This is gonna be easy as fuck.”
“I gotta go. Shadow, Hubcap, and I got sentry on the east side of this shithole,” Axe said.
The four men bumped fists, relaying their mantra, “Insurgents forever, forever Insurgents.” Keeping low, Axe disappeared into the darkness.
Smokey fixed his gaze straight ahead, every muscle in his body on alert as he waited for Rock’s order to attack. Just then, the front door opened, and Skeet walked out onto the porch. It took all of Smokey’s resolve not to shoot him on the spot. The SOB set up his brother. The image of the two men beating a scared, helpless Ryan, made Smokey’s blood boil, and he grunted angrily.
Tank, hearing Smokey’s short breaths, whispered, “Easy now. You got time for all that. We gotta wait for Rock’s signal.
“I know. I just can’t wait to stomp on that fucker’s balls.”