HARD RIDE (The Slayers MC Book 2)

by Tara Oakes

  I’ve got a full deck of cards in my hand right now. I just have to play them right.

  My head pops up at the sound of tires rolling down the gravel road outside. So does that of all my men. They don’t even need to wait for my command before they each take their position, firearm in hand.

  I’ve got men on the roof, up in the loft and out in the fields.

  Jimenez may only be arriving now, but I have no doubt that he, too, is armed and ready.

  Car doors open and close before a stream of men carrying their own weapons enter the old barn. They circle one man in the middle, one who is clearly important. Judging by the few pictures Mateo showed us, this man is his uncle, and Cat’s father. This is the leader of the Conquistadors drug cartel, the man who’s been toying with my club for the last couple of months or so.

  “You have something for me?” He calls out in heavy, broken, staccato’d English.

  Yeah, I’ve got something for him, all right.

  “I’ve got an address for you. She’ll be waiting at a restaurant. When you leave here, I’ll give a call to make sure she’s there waiting for you. If I’m no longer alive and well to make that call, then you’ll never see her again.” I lay out the details. I’m lying, though. There’s no phone call to make. I’m not about to hand over Cat to this monster.

  Even though what I say is fiction, I can see Chase grow tense at the possibility.

  “I’m not talking about the girl!” Jimenez spits. “I want the traitor!”

  Nice to see where his priorities are. It’s a good thing I have a back up plan. “Bring him down!” I order up into the loft.

  There are sounds of a scuffle before Mateo and his two men are led at gunpoint down to us, shocked and surprised at the turn of events.

  “I promised you a traitor, someone who approached us asking for our backing to take you out so he could take over your operation. Well, I’m delivering.” I explain as the men are marching but are stopped before crossing over to the Cartel’s side.

  “You piece of shit, backstabber, no good trash!” Mateo screams at me.

  His enthusiastic anger at me seems to please his uncle, who’s snarling at the younger generation. “I always knew you were chomping at my heels, just waiting to take what doesn’t belong to you--”

  “Let’s save the family drama for your own time. We had a deal. Now I want my part.” I cut the family reunion short.

  Jimenez snaps his fingers and a man promptly steps forth with a small duffle bag. The vinyl bag is unzipped and angled to show me a shit load of cash, which should total to exactly three quarters of a million dollars.

  Not to bad for a day’s work.

  I nod over to Gryff to fetch the bag of money and it’s taken to the back of the barn where it can be kept secure. Money covered in blood is no good to anyone, so we best get it out of the danger zone.

  “You have your money. Now I need the traitor.” Jimenez spits. Mateo gives me one last hard glare that to anyone else in this room could easily be mistaken for hatred.

  But it’s not.

  “Sure thing.” I step back and watch this unfold, praying to God that Mateo was right.

  With his hands behind his back, he’s led forward, toward the man who he plans to assassinate in a most definite horrible way. I can hear the dry star crack under his foot, with the sounds mixing with my own heavy heartbeats.

  I feel the familiar rush of adrenaline like a shot of poison in my veins.

  Jimenez has been so busy concentrating on Mateo, that he hasn’t noticed the movement behind him. Several of his own men are strategically moving to position themselves behind other men, their guns pointed directly at fellow Conquistadors.

  I guess Mateo was right.

  There are a handful of Jimenez’s flock that are fed up with the current leadership, that are ready for change. Not enough of them to take control of this situation on their own, but when you add them to the numbers of Slayers around, we easily outnumber those that will prove loyal to their long time dictator.

  When Mateo is no more than a foot away from his uncle, he casually removes his hands from behind his back and stands defiantly in front of the man he’s longed for revenge against.

  Jimenez takes off his dark sunglasses.

  “Even in the moment of your death, you stand up against me. Some might admire that. Some might call it stupid.” The Cartel leader appraises his nephew’s stance.

  “No, uncle. I stand against you in the moment of your death.” Mateo is transforming before my eyes. He’s becoming a leader.

  Jimenez realizes what Mateo is saying and begins to look around at the members of his own Cartel that have betrayed him, that are know pointing their very own weapons against Jimenez and those loyal to him.

  I decide it’s time for us to join the party and raise my right hand. Every single Slayer in the building now points his own weapon against what’s left of Jimenez’s Cartel.

  Cat’s father quickly does the math, sizing up what’s left of his protection and his opposition. It doesn’t take long for him to realize that it’s an unbalanced scale, tipped in our favor.

  Now this can go one of two ways. He can go out in a hail of glory, and this place can turn into one giant rainstorm of bullets, or he can try and wriggle his way out. I’m curious to see which it will be.

  Oddly enough, I don’t have to wait. Three of his remaining loyalists decide they no longer want to die protecting him and they throw down their weapons, surrendering.

  That leaves only about eight of them plus Jimenez.

  “This,” Mateo declares as he reaches around Jimenez’s own waist for his sleek black semi automatic, “is for my father.”

  A loud bang of a gun shot rings out in the aging barn followed by a thud to the ground as Pepe, the nine-fingered man who torched the cabin last night, falls to the ground in a growing puddle of blood.

  Jimenez’s eyes are squeezed shut but open in disbelief that he himself wasn’t shot. Now that the loyalists are down another man, the rest of them surrender their own weapons, seeing the futility in a fight. It’s done. It’s over.

  “And this,” Mateo speaks to his uncle once again, “is from Cat, for her mother.”

  The man’s eyes grow wide in fear, realizing what those words are condemning him for. One last shot rings out. One more body falls to the ground.

  No one left in the Cartel bothers to challenge Mateo, or to seek revenge for their fallen leader. The torch has just been passed, or, rather, taken.

  “We about done here?” I ask Mateo, eager to get my men out of harms way.

  He stands taller, broader. “Almost.”

  I nod, knowing what’s left to be done. He has to take care of the men that haven’t proven themselves loyal to the new leader, to him. I don’t need to see it, though.

  “There’s a bunch of shovels up in the loft. Make sure you don’t leave any traces behind.” And with that I work my finger in a circle over my head and point to the door, signaling for my men to fall out.

  This shit don’t concern us any more.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CAT

  I help myself to another imaginary cookie.

  Sasha laughs. “Please. Have some more tea, too.”

  The little girl is loving playing hostess at our imaginary tea party. The fluffy pink boa wrapped around her shoulders and floppy white hat are the perfect attire for high tea, even though it’s nearly eight at night.

  I’ve been trying to entertain her as best as I could, even managing to see that she’s eaten dinner while Molly rests in her own bedroom down the hall. She had gotten weak and lightheaded this afternoon in the kitchen and insisted that a nap would take care of it, even though some of the bikers downstairs insisted she see a doctor.

  She had joked around about having the Slayers listen to her in another context, and after seeing how she convinced them that a doctor wasn’t necessary, I now believe her and the influence she claims to have over them.

  Well,
that little nap she needed turned into a much more. I checked on her once or twice and the light snoring was all I needed to know she wasn’t getting up any time soon.

  When the men downstairs had decided on pizza for dinner, I’d even brought a slice up to her room, but she still chose sleep. I don’t know her well although she seems like a nice woman. From what I’ve been able to piece together, she’s Dawson’s woman, or Ol’ lady as Chase claims they call their ladies.

  With all the help Dawson is giving Mateo and me, the least I can do for his Ol’ lady is watch over Sasha for the night. I’ve already managed to have her change in to pajamas, but she runs a tight bargain. She only agreed to do it if I had a tea party with her.

  “I think it’s about time for bed now, Sasha.” I’ve imposed an eight o’clock bedtime after the little girl tried to convince me that Molly lets her stay up until midnight. I can’t blame her for trying, but I’m not as gullible as she’d hoped.

  “It’s not time yet!” she protests. She’s a smart little girl, but I’m not entirely sure she knows how to read a clock yet. Using that to my advantage, I fib.

  “Yes. It is. Now bedtime little one. You don’t want to have to tell your parents that you gave me a hard time, do you?” I’m playing hardball.

  That seems to do the trick, and she hops up into the very pink bedding that adorns her fluffy bed, still wearing her hat. I don’t have the heart to take it from her, so I leave her be.

  “I need bunny!” She points to the pink stuffed animal sitting on one of the chairs from the tea party.

  “Of course,” I add her bunny doll next to her and carefully cover both of them with the soft blanket. “Sweet dreams.”

  On cue, the little girl yawns. “Night Cat.”

  What a sweet little girl. I’m happy to see someone have the childhood I only dreamed about.

  With her room now quiet and Molly’s room down the hall still silent, the house seems peaceful. I make my way down the stairs to the group of tired men waiting near the windows.

  It’s been a long day for everyone, and I can tell they’re as drained as I am. I nod to the one that catches my glance walking by, the one who brought me here earlier, the one they call Stitch. He watches me closely, but he seems friendly enough.

  I leave them to the living room and make my way to a room I haven’t been in yet, a small library or den. Without bothering to turn a light on I collapse onto the small sofa, slip out of my shoes and curl my legs up, hugging them close.

  Playing make believe with Sasha has helped to take my mind off of things, but now, here in the dark, I find myself wandering into dark places. Places where terrible things have happened. I just hope and pray they haven’t hurt the ones I care about. I pray that Chase is safe, that Mateo is safe, and for Molly and Sasha’s sake that Dawson is safe.

  ~*~

  “Hey, Tush.” My ear tickles. “Wake up.”

  I don’t want to wake up, I don’t want my dream to end. In my sleep, he’s safe. They’re all safe. If I wake up, that might not be true.

  The prodding continues, giving me no choice. He asks again. Wait! I know that voice!

  “Chase?” My voice is full of interrupted sleep.

  I feel warm soft lips on my own, giving me the proof I needed that it’s really him. “I’m here, baby. Wake up.”

  My eyes are slow to follow his command and adjust to the low light of the room.

  “Chase!” I sit up and grab tight around his shoulders, thankful to see him again. “Are you hurt?”

  I’m squeezing him hard enough that his voice is strained. “Relax, Tush. I’m fine. We’re fine.”

  My prayers have been answered. “Mateo? Is he fine?”

  I can’t read Chase’s face in the shadows. “Put your shoes on. There’s someone who wants to see you.”

  ~*~

  My second late night bike ride in as many days brings me to the same exact place as yesterday, the strip club that the Slayers seem to use to conduct business in. People are already waiting for us when we arrive.

  Chase stays quiet as if it saddens him to bring me here.

  Several of the men we pass are familiar to me, not just the Slayers. I see some of my father’s own men, and for a fleeting second I fear Chase may be delivering me right into fathers clutches.

  That is, until I see Mateo sitting at a table with Dawson, deep in conversation. Our entrance garners everyone’s attention and the discussion promptly ends.

  “Mateo!” I call out and run into my older cousin’s arms. We hold onto each other tightly for the first time in months before breaking into our native language out of habit.

  “Are you well? Are you hurt? It’s so good to finally see you again!” I’m talking a mile a minute.

  Mateo hugs me again before holding me at arms length. “It’s done, Cat. It’s finished. We did it. Your father will never hurt another person.”

  They did it! They actually did it! Chase followed through on his promise to me.

  “You can come home now, Cat.” Mateo seems delighted in the idea.

  One of the men who had been keeping guard at Dawson’s house, Esè seems to be translating my conversation to Dawson, who’s standing by.

  “Not so fast, Mateo. We still have some unfinished business.” Dawson speaks up, grabbing Mateo’s attention. “Not that I don’t think our new partnership has some promising potential, but I’m sure you can understand why I’ll need some assurances.”

  I look back and forth between the two men.

  “You have my word,” Mateo swears.

  Dawson nods. “I’m sure I do. I think until we have some more trust between us, I’ll be needing more though. You still hold the power over Stitch’s parole. I can’t take the risk that you’ll decide you no longer need the muscle we provided and decide to pursue other business plans. Plans that don’t include us.”

  Mateo seems to think on this, mulling over Dawson’s points. It’s clear that I’ve missed a whole lot, that these two men have made some agreements. But, neither one of them knows whether or not to fully trust the other.

  I stand in between them both, looking back and forth from one to the other and then to Chase, who’s standing near the corner of the bar, eyeing me as if he’s wanting to speak up, but doesn’t.

  I remember what Mateo said about me coming home now, and I remember the gut feeling I had as soon as he said the words.

  That’s not what I want. That’s not my home. I have nothing but bad memories and heartache in that place. And then there’s Chase. I don’t know why, but the thought of leaving him, of never seeing him again tugs at my heart.

  At first, he was just a means to an end, a way to convince the Slayers to help us. But something happened. I don’t know when, I don’t know how. I just remember what he said to me the first night we slept together. He promised to make me feel something.

  I thought he was full of himself, that it was a line to get in my pants. Well, here I am, watching him across the crowded room, contemplating a life without him and… I feel something. I feel what it would be like without him and I don’t like it.

  “Wait,” I think I may have a solution. “You both need assurances. What if I’m the assurance?”

  Mateo pulls my arm. “What do you mean, Cat?”

  “What if I stay here? Of my own free will this time? I can be a measure of good faith between you two.” I propose.

  My cousin is overprotective. “You don’t have to do this, Catarina. We can think of another way.”

  “I’m not talking forever, Mateo. Just until there’s enough history for you two to trust each other.”

  He’s not convinced. “What about your plans? What about school?”

  Oh, crap. I didn’t think about that.

  “There’s a great medical school about thirty minutes away!” Chase finally speaks up.

  I nod my head. “There! See! I don’t have to change my plans.”

  My cousin searches deep in my eyes. “Are you sure you know what
you’re doing Cat? Are you sure you want to do this?”

  One more look at Chase and I’m sure.

  ~*~

  DAWSON

  What a fuckin’ day. And night. And week. And month. I’ll tell you one thing for sure, when I woke up this morning, I had absolutely no idea how things would turn out. We went from being on the hit list of one of the most dangerous cartels to joining forces with them.

  I know that could bring a whole set of new problems with it, but for now, it’s the only viable option. It could go south, real quick too. Or it could prove lucrative for all of us. There’s only one way to find out and that’s to let things happen the way they’re gonna happen.

  I’ve got my insurance and that’s all I wanted. I’ve got Cat, here, in Riverdale. I’ve seen first hand how Mateo cares for her, unlike her own father did. He won’t fuck things up between us as long as she’s here.

  And Mateo’s got his insurance on me. He’s holding Stitch’s freedom in the palm of his hand. We’ve both essentially got the other by the balls. Let’s just hope no one squeezes.

  As for everything else, well, it’s about time this club had some peace and quiet. Too many things have been neglected, too many relationships put on the back burner.

  Stitch and Baby got a lot of time to make up for. That shit ain’t gonna be easy. I know first hand how gettin’ outta the pen and being thrown back into the real world can fuck with your head. I’ve been there. I’ve done it.

  The difference was, when I did it, I didn’t have someone waitin’ for me like he has Baby. I’ve seen enough post-prison reunions where it’s become common for couples to weather a storm or two. There’s abandonment, resentment and anger that’s built up.

  Hopefully they’re strong enough to weather through what’s coming their way. For their sakes, and for the kid’s sake. I’ve known Stitch since I was too stupid to know any better, and Baby just as long.

  Those two need each other. Now their kid needs them both. I’d hate to see what they have break. I know the fracture lines are already there.