“Bear and Moby brought us up to speed on our ride.” Mason’s muttered words were gruff, his voice tight with lack of sleep. They’d flown through the night on Rupert’s plane to get here, bringing the best the Rebels had to offer with them. “Blue Line knows we’ll do our best.” Pulling back, Mason gripped Gypsy’s shoulder. “I know he’s been at your back before, and with what he’s done for us in the past, we’re honored to return the favor.”
Myron stepped close, thumping Gypsy’s shoulder. “How’s your girl holding up?” Gypsy twisted to look at Kelsey, hair swept over the cushion beneath her head, face tight even in sleep. “You good, brother?”
“I’m good. And we’ve got a plan. Blue Line is out now making the connections he needs to for the container. That part’s in the bag.” Myron nodded and Mason stared at him, quirking one eyebrow. “We think Norwood won’t keep his end of the deal.”
There’d been another call, one where Belle’s voice had been used to bludgeon Blue Line into submission, her tear-filled cries for mercy echoing through the room, bringing every man to their feet. Kelsey had stood next to Blue Line, arm on his shoulder, leaning close to lend her strength. Gypsy thought it might be the first time he’d seen her voluntarily touch another man since she’d been rescued, and wondered at her strength. At the end of the call, they’d recorded the transfer instructions, which had been surprisingly exhaustive, and included a detail none of them had expected. “Bring the girl, that little Aussie. Need to lay eyes on her before you get your property back, Graham.”
Gypsy’s instinctive rejection had died in his throat when he saw the anguish on Blue Line’s face. Why Norwood made the demand didn’t matter, not until after they got Belle back. Norwood already knew Gypsy and Kelsey were here, and Gypsy knew Kelsey would do anything for Belle.
Gypsy had still put his foot down and she’d acquiesced. In retrospect, far too easily. He’d left her standing with fists on hips, glaring at him as he closed the bedroom door. Kelsey had been pissed, no doubt about it, but it was for the best. Yeah, right. He hadn’t been on-site for more than a minute before he heard someone stumbling in the dark, mumbled curses giving away their position. Dragging the form into the light only confirmed what he’d known just from getting his hands on her.
Kelsey had made her own way here, and there’d been no time to extricate her. A call to Mason had things in motion, but Norwood and his men were early.
A van flanked front and rear by bikes pulled to a halt about twenty yards away, the roar of motorcycle exhaust slowly dying as engines were killed. The front ranks of bikes tilted to the side as kickstands were lowered, riders stepping off to stand in the shadows next to each bike. One man stepped close to another, heads angled together for a moment before breaking apart. Gypsy felt the weight of their gazes on him, fifteen men to him and Kelsey. Fuck.
A man stepped out of the van, opening the side door and pulling out a much smaller figure. Belle, had to be. Hope flared inside Gypsy at the knowledge Norwood had at least kept his word for that much, bringing Blue Line’s old lady to the meet. The cop he’d known wouldn’t leave anything to chance, and he doubted Norwood had changed much in the years since he’d seen him last. That meant for each of the men in front of him, Gypsy should anticipate an equal number waiting in the darkness surrounding them.
“Tatum.” The lead rider stepped forwards and away from the rest of the men, standing in the center of the road, arms akimbo, hands fisted on his hips. “Long time no see.”
Gypsy squinted, trying to see the man’s face past the glare of headlights. “Norwood. Did you get your delivery earlier?” He knew the man had. The release of the container without normal due process had been finessed, and the Malcontents’ truck driver had reported back after he’d dropped it off. “As demanded. Now keep up your side of the bargain.” He lifted a hand and pointed over Norwood’s shoulder, then curled his fingers in a clear demand. “Bring me what’s owed.” Blue Line had talked through how to deal with the man, and so far, it was all according to plan. Well, except for the part where Norwood showed with about ten more men than we wanted.
“Yeah, your boy came through.” Norwood scoffed, biting back a laugh. “Wonder what’s in the fuckin’ container.”
Gypsy tipped his head to the side, trying to decide what that meant. “Hold up your end, yeah?” The man next to the van didn’t move, his grip on the woman in front of him never faltering. Gypsy lowered his voice, feeling it resonate through his chest as he growled out, “Norwood.”
“Oh, you’ll get what you want.” Norwood stepped to the side and he twisted at the waist as he visibly scanned the area. “Where is she, Tatum?”
“Who?” He itched to match Norwood’s movements, to block his view of Gypsy’s bike where Kelsey crouched, hidden by the back wheel. “Where is who?”
“Your little girl from Oz, man. I told you I wanted to lay eyes on her. So, if you didn’t bring her.” Norwood lifted his arms to the side, palms up. “Then that’s you not holding up your end.”
“Why the fuck would I bring my old lady to a meet like this.” Gypsy shifted, angling a hip to the side, letting his vest drape in a way that gave him easy access to his gun. “You been in a club long enough to know women have no place in these conversations. Even if it was a shit club like Outriders, you should still have learned better.” He shook his head. “Now hold up your end, Norwood.”
“And if I say no?” Arching his back, Norwood gestured towards Gypsy, the movement somehow arrogant. “If I say no. N. O.” Head bobbing side to side, he emphasized the word. “No. What are you going to do about it? What can you do, Tatum?” He paused, then laughed, the sound humorless and dry. “Nothing. You can’t do a fucking thing, because you were stupid enough to come out here alone.”
Gypsy stared at him, holding his gaze, anger and conceit burning in Norwood’s glare. He’s certain he’s got the upper hand. Gypsy fought against smiling, felt his lip give a twitch. Norwood took another step to the side, thrusting his chin forwards as he changed the target of his stare to Gypsy’s bike. “Fuck you.”
“Who’s that? Who’d you bring with you?” Gypsy stiffened as gravel scuffed softly behind him. “That the girl? Little slip of a thing, ain’t she? Come on down, honey. Let us get a good look at you. It’s Kelsey, right?” Each sentence was punctuated by a movement. A shift of Norwood’s feet, a change in the angle of his elbows, a sweep of his arm, all calculated to make Gypsy give up his secret.
“You’re fucking nuts, you know that?” Gypsy shook his head, then froze when a hand touched his back, fingers slipping under his vest to curl around his belt. A touch he knew and recognized. Fingers attached to a woman who was supposed to be hiding safely at his bike, and not beside him. Roll with it, he thought, glad Kelsey knew enough to stay to his left. It left his right hand free to pull his weapon if needed. “Now you’ve seen her, hold up your end.”
“Good God, she’s beautiful.” Norwood placed a hand at his throat, flattening his palm theatrically. “I saw pictures, but God, girl, they did not do you justice.” Norwood whistled softly, a descending tone that spoke of awe. Blood pounded in Gypsy’s ears, muffling Norwood’s next words. “Man, was I pumped to find out he was finally going to put you up for auction. Jazzed. Yeah, I was jazzed and pumped. Ready to jump on a plane and head on down when I got the word. Auction was delayed. Indefinitely. Then I found out why. Tatum here took it upon himself to interrupt what had turned into a lucrative venture for me. I lost a fucking lot of money at that little show, I tell you what. A fuck of a lot of money, and nothing to show for it. Baxter crippled for life and left to rot in jail, which means I can’t get my investment back that way.” Norwood laughed again, this sound drilling between Gypsy’s eyes, making him flinch. “But, lookie here. Here you are. Hand delivered to me by the man who saved you.” Norwood moved, making air quotes around the word. “I’ll get my pound of flesh from him first, and then—” He licked his lips, the movement disgusting to watch. “—I’ll stick
my pound of flesh in you, pretty, pretty Kelsey.”
“Not happening.” Gypsy forced the words out, his throat closing around the sounds. Kelsey’s grip tightened around his belt, pulling herself closer.
“On three.” Her whisper barely carried to his ears, but he tensed at the first flick of her finger against his back. One.
“Oh, yeah. This is going down, Tatum.” Norwood twisted to look back at his men. “Ain’t it, boys?” Shuffling steps brought a couple of Norwood’s men forwards and then Gypsy watched as the woman by the van was forced to her knees. “It’s going down. Down town.” Two.
“You’re so wrong, you can’t even see it.” Gypsy angled his chin to the side and looked down at Kelsey’s dark head pressed against his arm. “She’s mine, and the one back there,” he lifted an arm and pointed, “is Blue Line’s. Way I see it, you got nothing but shit.” Three.
Lights blazed all around them, the heat slamming into them immediately along with the blinding glare. Bullhorn-distorted voices shouted instructions, and Gypsy complied, going to his knees, feeling Kelsey hit the ground beside him. There was a short-lived scream from beside the van, then the sobbing voice of a woman rose above the sounds. No gunfire, which had been one of the biggest concerns in the whole plan. It seemed as if everything was going to go down smoothly, one final raid called by the deepest undercover officer the San Diego PD had ever known.
Something heavy hit Gypsy’s shoulder, punching him to the side and he fell, twisting to avoid landing on Kelsey. Sharp scores of pain crossed his throat, then a grinding compression cut off his air. He twisted, back to the gravel and got his arms in front of him, shoving up and out, breaking the grip on his throat.
“Fucking kill you, Tatum.”
Norwood.
Gypsy bucked his body, dislodging the weight that had settled on his chest as he punched wildly, connecting twice, then a third time. Each blow forced a heavy grunt from the man on top of him. Their fight was in near silence, lights bright as sunshine streaming down at them, dust and glare making Gypsy’s eyes water. Something hit the side of his head hard enough to make him see stars and he came back with a punch that made Norwood curse.
Kelsey screamed, the sound loud, wordless and angry, and a wave of panic hit Gypsy. Something’s happening to her. He’d redoubled his efforts when Norwood grunted a final time and stilled, his limp body heavy on Gypsy’s chest. Shoving hard, he shifted the man off him to see Kelsey standing over them in a wide-legged stance, her hands drawn back to her shoulder. There was a rock in her hands, the side of it dark and shining.
“No,” she yelled, bringing the rock straight down. Gypsy dodged to the side and heard a sound like a melon smashing. He rolled to his feet and found Norwood splayed on his belly, face pressed into the gravel, the hair on the back of his head wet and mottled.
Gypsy launched himself at Kelsey and tore the rock from her hands as he pulled her close, wrapping himself around her. “Jesus, Kelsey.”
She was sobbing and screaming, her hands fluttering along his ribs, his back, his arms. “My God, Gypsy. My God, are you okay?” She pulled back and forced her arms up between them, palms smoothing up his neck, sweat and dirt stinging the scrapes on his neck. “Please be okay.”
Then her hands were on his face, fingers locked in his hair as she pulled him down into a kiss. Any restraint he’d been holding onto was gone, control torn from him in the adrenaline rush of the fight, and he possessed her mouth, demanding entrance she gave willingly. Wet and warm, she sucked on his tongue as he stroked between her lips, voracious in his need for her. Pressed close, she gave herself to him, no hesitation or fear in her movements, passion borne along in a river of desire that ran between them. A chill passed over him, darkness behind his lids and he broke the kiss, thrust into the memory of where they were. Gypsy lifted his head, already missing the heat of her mouth, and looked around to see Blue Line standing close, his arms around a trembling Belle.
A man in full SWAT gear was kneeling on the ground next to Norwood, wrestling the man’s unresponsive form to his back before bending his mouth close to the mic attached to his shoulder, calling out indecipherable words that brought more cops over.
“They’ll need to take statements,” Blue Line called, his hands running up and down Belle’s back. Gypsy nodded, doing much the same to Kelsey. “I told the captain tomorrow was soon enough.”
He pressed his lips together for a moment, and then Gypsy asked, “She okay?”
“She will be,” came the ready answer. “I can’t—” Blue Line looked away, then bent to bury his head in Belle’s hair.
“She will be,” Kelsey agreed quietly. “She’s strong, Blue Line.” Her voice broke as she said, “You’re so strong, Belle.”
“Like you,” Gypsy whispered, and Kelsey pressed her face against his chest. “I love you.”
Old enemies
Filled with static and sounding as if he were far away, a man’s voice came through the phone, “Next time, let a brother know before you get the cops involved.” That was Estavez, Mela’s father, leader of one of the largest outlaw MCs in Mexico. Gypsy grimaced and glanced at Mason before focusing on the man at the head of the table, Blue Line.
They were back in the Malcontents’ temporary clubhouse. It had been used as overflow housing and was set up for this purpose with the family room converted to a conference room. The twitch of Blue Line’s lips made Gypsy grin, and he angled his head down, pretending to study the table.
“Oh, sure. I’ll telegraph how my club couldn’t handle our own shit and called in the law. That’ll go over real well in the region. Might as well open the fucking door and hold it, ushering any wannabe in while I’m at it. Fuck.”
Mason barked a laugh and they all heard a sigh through the phone.
“Mason, I didn’t know you were there.” Now Estavez sounded more annoyed. “You should have your wizard teach Blue Line’s man some tricks. I’ve gotten used to seeing the men with whom I’m speaking. Get some fucking video equipment, Blue Line. I’m sure Myron would be happy to point you to the proper items.”
Myron laughed and Estavez sighed again.
“Wanna guess who else is in the room?” Blue Line’s lips spread in a mirthless grin. Gypsy darted his gaze down again, shocked at how the expression hit him. With what Norwood and his men had done to Belle, the man had been struggling. It had only been a day, yet Kelsey said Belle was already coming back to herself, which meant Blue Line would also recover. She’d stroked a touch along Gypsy’s forearm when she spoke, the unconscious need to touch him still there.
“Just tell me, asshole.” Estavez’s words were clipped, and Gypsy decided to take pity on the man.
“Blue Line, Mason, Myron, me, Bear, Tugboat, and a couple of the Malcontents guys.” He shook his head. “Just a few of us here, man.”
“Gypsy, good to hear your voice, brother.” Hurley’s words were crisp and clear, and reminded them all the Las Cruces RWMC chapter had been patched in before the call connected with Estavez. “You’ve got Opie and me here. Spider had to step out, but he’ll be back in a minute.”
“Is that my future son-in-law? You yet live? That is…unfortunate.” Estavez’s voice shook with laughter and the strong sound rippled through the rooms in three locations. “So, Blue Line, it seems you’ve assembled an interesting group of supporters. What is it you wish to tell me needs so much backing?”
“Bringing everyone up to speed on the status of San Diego. It’s my territory, but you all have an investment in the area.” He took a breath and glanced around the room. “It’s mine.” He paused to let the statement sink in. “It is mine. In the past I’ve told each of you I wanted to keep things small, because that suited what I needed. But—” He stared at Gypsy for a moment, then looked at Mason. “—this bullshit with the Outriders cannot stand. I won’t put up with having garbage in my backyard, and if that means I need to clear the trash myself, I’ll do it.”
“What does that mean, exactly?” Maso
n’s question came out in a rumble and Gypsy didn’t need to look at him to know his brows were drawn together in a heavy scowl.
“Means I’m going to do my damnedest to control southern California.” Blue Line glared a challenge at Mason. “Also means there won’t be an RWMC chapter here, unless they wear my support patch.”
Oh, fuck.
Silence shook the walls for a moment, and Gypsy wondered if there’d been an earthquake he hadn’t noticed, and then Mason laughed. A chuckle, heavy and solid, and he turned to look at Mason, wondering if the man had lost his mind.
Still laughing quietly, Mason wiped under one eye with a fingertip. “Touched you think so much of me, man.” Blue Line wasn’t smiling, and Gypsy waited for the other shoe to drop. “I don’t need to control an area by having a chapter there, although I will admit it does make it a far sight easier.” Mason leaned forwards, flattening one hand on the table, a pose Gypsy had seen hundreds of times in the past, something he’d only just realized preceded an announcement of some kind. Something which rocked the world of the Rebels, most likely. “You want SoCal, earn it. Earn it, and then keep earning it every fucking day, because that’s how you hold a territory. Not through words mouthed at a table, not through the actions of a single night, no, you earn it every fucking day you wrestle it into what you want it to be. What you see it can be. You prove yourself to yourself and we’ll see how we continue to work together, Blue Line. Earn the territory and prove you can hold it, and we’ll talk then.”
Blue Line was silent, mouth pressed tight, lips a slash across his face. He shook his head, gaze pinned to Mason.
Mason pushed back from the table and leaned over to put his mouth closer to the phone. “I’m taking my men and walking out, Estavez. You and me have a pact, and that pact holds, but I won’t be ejected from an entire fucking state by a man I just helped bail out of a tight spot.” He took a step away from the table, and Gypsy realized Myron and Bear had stood, too, and were closing in on either side of Mason.
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