by Dane, Ryder
By the time her second cup of coffee was halfway gone, she was growing bored. More people trickled into the room, and although there were several that she recognized, it was just like growing up here. No one to talk to. No one wanted to be seen talking to the nutcase who knew their secrets. The few couples that stumbled in together went their separate ways from the door into the room.
Demon, minus his late night snack, came through the door, rubbing his face and running his hand through his hair. He set a course straight to the bar, where a member named Tiny was setting up brews for those that were in need.
He sucked the beer down and reached for another one. Before he could put it to his lips, he let out a loud belch and rubbed his flat stomach, telling the bartender, “Breakfast of Champs.” He tilted the bottle at the man and brought it to his lips to take a few slower swallows. He must have felt her amused gaze, because he turned her way and stopped with the beer halfway to his lips. He reached in his pocket and fought with the phone that was stuck between the seam and the facing. Once it was in his hand, he began scrolling for the right number, and Future was doing all she could not to laugh out loud. He slopped beer on the floor before setting the bottle on the bar, then he must have found the person he was searching for since he pushed the screen and brought the black box to his ear. He reached over with his now free hand and grabbed his beer.
She didn’t catch what he said, but she was pretty sure it was a call concerning her presence at the club, from the way he kept staring at her. She shook her head at his stare and got up to refill her coffee, and see if there was a stray Danish or biscuit that looked fairly fresh for her breakfast.
She found herself shoved back down on the chair and the coffee cup fell from her hand and shattered on the floor next to her. “You stay right the fuck put. No more disappearing, no more running around worrying everyone.” The Demon he was named after was showing in his eyes. They were narrowed and cold. The term stone faced filtered through her mind.
She’d vowed to handle whatever came her way today or she would have given him a piece of her mind since his seemed to be still lying between that girl’s thighs. “I was going to get a refill and grab something to eat. I’ve been here for over an hour already, so I think you can relax.”
He yelled over his shoulder, “Pressley, get your ass over here.” Although Demon never took his eyes off her to see the young Prospect run to his side, she saw it, and shook her head at him. “Tell him what you want and he’ll get it.”
She smiled at the young man with the small bull ring in the cartilage of his nose, “Coffee, cream, half teaspoon of sugar please, and if there is a Danish or something I would love one, thank you.”
She waited until the kid left and asked him, “What’s got your panties in a twist? From what I saw when I got here, you should have woke up in a good mood. Instead, you’re acting like I’m going to steal something.”
Demon wasn’t speaking to her either it seemed. Pressley came back with her coffee, and a small plate with donut holes and half slices of French toast. She smiled at him again and told him thanks, before eating her sugary meal.
The coffee was gone, Demon was on his third beer, and he’d finally stopped looming over her, sitting himself in a chair near enough to grab her if she tried to run. He still hadn’t spoken to her and they’d been sitting there for over an hour when she decided she’d had enough. She needed to see her parents and more pressing, she needed to pee.
She stood and began walking to the room she assumed was the bathroom. If he tried to stop her, there might be a puddle on the floor soon. He didn’t try to stop her, he followed her into the room, and waited while she sat in the stall and did her thing. He waited until she’d washed her hands, and followed her from the small room. If he was going to go to her parents, they might draw the conclusion that she was involved with one of the members and it would tickle them to death. She ought to put him through such torture, but even for fun, there was no way she would take a man that smelled like some other woman’s crotch across the street, let alone to her parents’ home.
She tried one more time, “Demon, I know you are thinking I plan to run, why I have no idea. But if I promise to stay right here, will you please go wash the smell of old tuna fish off your face, it stinks, and while I normally wouldn’t say a thing, you’re the one insisting on sitting here. I’m the one being tortured.”
Tiny heard every word and shouted in laughter. Demon shot him an evil look, but it was wasted, because Tiny was bent at the waist laughing so hard tears ran down his chubby cheeks. “She’s right, man, I never say anything, ‘cause I have the same problem when the old lady needs to be serviced. Damn, bro, she’s got you pinned. Go ahead, I’ll watch her until you get back.” He chuckled, “I’ll have Pressley chase her down and I’ll sit on her, she won’t get far.” He began laughing again and several men who were still in the room, laughed because Tiny was laughing. They had no idea why he was laughing, but his high pitch was hilarious.
Demon gave her a warning look, and nodded to his replacement. “I’ll be ten minutes tops.”
Future asked Tiny if he had a broom and dust pan, and was handed one to clean up the broken cup. She handed the things back, and he handed her a wet cloth to mop up the sticky mess that had dried while Demon insisted on her ass being glued to the chair. She moved herself to the bar, because Tiny seemed like the friendly type and they exchanged quips and bar jokes. She offered to send him a book with several bar games in it, from beer pong to balancing bottles on foreheads doing a walking obstacle course. “We have game night at the Petite Bruja, every other Friday. It’s our busiest night and you’ll be surprised at how many people participate.”
Demon was back within his self allotted time, but he wasn’t wearing a shirt, so she teased him about trolling for the chickie babies. “Damn, boy, don’t you get enough women chasing after you without having to advertise those nipple studs?”
The arrival of Big Dog saved him from answering her playful comments. If he’d fucked her like he wanted to back when he met her, maybe the thought of busting her wouldn’t bother him so much. He didn’t want to like her, especially after the past couple of days while she was missing, and the Prez raged around the place, busting heads and demanding results. Once he found out that she’d come back on her own, he could just about guess what Big Dog was going to say about the men’s abilities to find their asses with both hands. He would be right too. The urgency to bring her back was doubled last night when a call came through from Lucifer’s Breed. They wanted the meeting to take place tonight, they didn’t want to wait until Tuesday.
The only reason they could have for the accelerated timeline was that someone must have been discussing club business outside of the compound. Somehow, they’d found out the star witness was found, and now was missing, and wanted to push the talks up as fast as they could. Demon knew Big Dog was concerned she might have been taken. Dorsey was still on the loose and her very presence made a lie out of his story of attempted heroism that night.
Big Dog knew she was there, but he was almost too mad to speak. He’d seen the pussy bike and as far as a woman’s ride, it was fine, black with orange flames would be more his style. He walked up to her and held out his hand. “Keys.” He wasn’t asking, he was demanding. When she stubbornly shook her head no, he didn’t ask again. “Demon, get Chewy to help you put that pussy bike in the warehouse, and take the front tire off, before you leave it.”
She was furious, and let him know in no uncertain terms, “What the hell? You can’t do that. I came here under my own steam, no one had to drag me here. I haven’t broken any rules, and this is bullshit. The club’s rules state that I can leave in good standing anytime I wish.” She folded her arms and gave him a narrow-eyed look that she used in the bar at home. Of course at the Petite Bruja, that look usually meant she was reaching for the baseball bat behind the bar.
He stood looming over her and grinned, “You just refused an order from the club�
�s president. I do believe that is a rule broken, a big one.” He had her, she would have to agree to whatever he wanted now, if she wanted her ride back. After talking to Charlie, he knew he would need to have something she wanted to gain her cooperation. Since letting her seriously hurt or possibly kill the leverage, he had to bring Lucifer’s Breed President back to the field, wasn’t going to happen, yet.
With her testimony in front of both clubs, revenge would be his and the Chiefs, who were now patched over to the Burning Bastards MC.
His plan to challenge a territory line had been met with resistance, and he no longer gave a shit what Lucifer’s Breed demanded. He was up to his ass in hints and innuendos about the Breed’s plans to “School the Bastards, like they’d schooled the Chiefs.”
Tonight, any schooling would be done by him.
He needed to keep her busy for a few hours before it would be time to leave for this meeting. “Georgie, get Merlin and his old lady, they’ve been worried about their long lost Oracle. I know they would like to see her in the flesh before she does her disappearing act again. Bring them to the lounge, and tell him to leave the herb at home. The last thing any of us needs is to get a contact buzz from that shit tonight.”
The rat bastard grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the room, down that hall, and this time took the stairs up. The landing was a big room with several comfortable spots to crash, or play video games. He shoved her into the thick cushions of an easy chair and sat on the ottoman in front of her.
“This is the thing, we have a meeting with Lucifer’s Breed tonight.” He let that sink in and was gratified to see her eyes widen a little and her nose began to flare. Maybe old Crazy Charlie was right. If he told her what’s going on, it might gain her cooperation. “I can’t let any lasting harm come to the prisoners until tonight, and there is a big chance their own people will take care of your need for revenge. Lucifer’s Breed upper management doesn’t have a clue what some of their enforcers are doing, and it appears that when they find out after the fact, they are reluctant to take care of it. Their club has gotten so big that it’s hard to keep track.
“I don’t give free passes, those motherfucker’s know me, they waited until I had to fly out to bury my parents, and they fucking attacked like the rats they are, in the middle of the night. It took me two long damned years to track down the story, and who did what. Charlie told you, we all thought you were dead, until Butch’s old lady told him about treating a girl with extensive injuries that was found on a dirt road naked and half dead. She described the tat on your back, and the one on the back of your neck. Poppa, Tiny, and Lorenzo, the guy that did the artwork, all agreed that it had to be you.
“This all came to light almost a year after that fucking softtail disappeared from the lot here. Everyone called you the little witch, hell, I never even knew your real name until I got your father in here to tell me what this Oracle we were looking for was. We found the bar, when Tarzan and Needles got out of jail, and stopped in the place for a beer. They came back and told Tiny about the name of the place and he looked it up. O M Smith is the taxpayer, and all we could get out of Merlin was him saying we should find the Oracle. He kept saying shit like, “The Oracle will tell you what happened, find the Oracle.”
They could hear the clatter of feet on the stairs and Big Dog stood and headed for the stairs. “We leave at seven, be ready.” Her parents came into view and she could see the years hadn’t been friendly to the aging hippies.
They’d been in their early thirties when she was born. That might have contributed to the reason they considered her a gift from God and the bearer of good news. She’d missed them, as silly and marshmallow brained as her mother was, the woman had never forgotten to remind her daughter that she was loved. Merlin had always been her biggest fan, and would brag to anyone listening about his Oracle and her special gifts. He loved her too, maybe he went a bit far with bragging, but she always knew he was there for her. It had hurt when she thought they’d left her for dead.
She suffered through the embrace of each of them and felt the bones protruding, and the fragility of their bodies. Her mother retained her beauty in the sparkle of her eyes, but the climb up the steps left the woman shaking and Future helped her sit into the soft cushions of the sofa. Merlin wore a crafty look in his eyes and she knew he was going to start with his interrogation. She answered them, but skirted the more painful memories and spent the time talking about her bar and home. She promised to visit them at home before she left. She helped her mother to escape the sofa’s soft cushions. Since it was dinnertime, they all went down to the dining room and Muffy sat at a table to keep a spot for them, while Future and her father filled her a plate and got her a cup of tea.
She left them still eating their dinner, and made her way to the front door where several men were already gearing up. Her bike was nowhere to be seen and she was becoming agitated. She looked around and saw a shiny Dodge backed up close to the side door of the club, and four men were wrestling two long wooden boxes into the bed. It didn’t take more than a moment’s speculation for her to conclude the boxes contained guns, not handguns. From the number of bikes and riders present, it appeared this party wasn’t only serious, it would be epic.
Five old ladies were tagging along, and several greybeards were milling around, waiting to be assigned a task. The women and older members were driving the two trucks. One was towing an enclosed trailer, and it was obvious the truck’s bed was loaded down too, but fiberglass lids were lowered to keep others from seeing what was being transported.
Big Dog came out, flanked by his handpicked men. It was obvious he planned to make a show of strength, and when he called her over, and told her that she was riding with him, she balked. “I want my bike.”
Chapter Six
He didn’t have time for this shit, she would be safe with him and the vanguard. What the fuck was her problem? “Give me one good reason that you’re acting all prissy right now, ‘cause I have to tell you, I’m not impressed. You can ride in the box on the way back, but you will get your ass on my bike, and you will shut the fuck up now.”
She was shaking her head no and the only way to make him understand why she wanted her bike, would tell him one of the lessons she’d learned that night, the night that her world changed forever. “I ride my transportation, I can’t trust that you will be there when I need to leave, I don’t trust anyone, so don’t think you’re special. I was left at the mercy of those animals once before, shoved to the jackals so Dorsey could get away. If I’d been allowed to ride my own bike that night, I would have been gone before they could keep me.”
He could hear the fear, see it, and he understood her reason for being stubborn. “You see these men?” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder, “touch them, touch each one of them on the way to my bike, if one of them would leave you to be harmed in anyway, he stays here. No questions asked. One way or the other, your happy ass will be on that bike with me.” He dragged her to the first man, and ordered him to hold out his hand. Out of the ten men she’d touched, only one was iffy in her mind, but that might have been because he was shitfaced and held his liquor well enough to ride. He almost looked relieved when Big Dog called Needles over to take his place.
She had to take a few deep breaths before she hoisted herself on the big machine, but once she was seated, he shook his head, and pointed to the Tryke next to the hog. “Not tonight, witch woman, you get to ride bitch in style. This is a show, and we always deliver.” She climbed on and was happy that she wouldn’t need to hold his middle while she sat on a four by six inch pad of leather behind him. This seat was much better, and from the looks given him by a few of his men, she felt warmed when she realized that he’d decided to take the three wheeler at the last minute. She was still nervous, but his offer and the way he kept his word about replacing any man she didn’t trust, went a long way to calming her enough to keep her on the seat.
The drive seemed to take forever, and her guts were
twisting from anxiety, but she felt no fear about this meeting. The place was what bothered her. When they pulled onto the dirt two track, she began scanning the woods around them. It had been so long since she’d deliberately tried to use her gift of sight, she worried she might miss something important. When the energies of Lucifer’s Breed came within her range of second sight, she leaned down and cupped her hand to his ear to tell him, “There’s at least fifty people ahead, and I think there’s a lot more further down, I can feel them.”
He didn’t say anything, his head nodded and he increased the speed of the Tryke a little. She knew he was showing his disdain for needing a shield or escort. They would be the first sight Lucifer’s Breed would see coming. It was both brave and stupid of him, but she felt the power he was ready to display building in his aura. She kept her hands on his leather-clad shoulders, and hung on over the bumpy terrain.
The sight that met her eyes reminded her of the old westerns on TV. When the cowboys looked up and saw a wide line of Indians watching them from above. Only the sea of bikes wasn’t above them, and no rocks to hide behind, except for the one she already sat behind. She leaned forward again and told him, “That is about half of them, the rest are on the other side of those trees.”
Big Dog figured as much when they’d started out to get here. Lucifer’s Breed were not stupid, at least not the National boys, they would never trust a rival club as large as the Burning Bastards. For the same reason, only ten of his men would be at the initial meet and greet, but thirty would be in the background, and another fifty were staying hidden in the wooded two track. One of the pick-ups would be directly behind the ten men behind his back. He wasn’t about to show them anything but confidence and strength. He stopped the Tryke ten feet from the line and saw his men pulling up beside him, flanking his sides, and two parked behind his rear wheels.