by Nicole Snow
I was helping Reb steady his knees when an old woman and two young guys walked in. The woman stopped. I looked up, and saw they were all decked out in uniforms with the hospital logo.
Fuck! Recognized the old woman as Em's supervisor, the same chick I'd put in her place a few months ago.
“Where's Emma?” she asked, a smile pulling at one corner of her mouth. “Don't worry, Tank. I'm here to help, not give you shit.”
I nodded. She was speaking my language. I pointed her over to Em. Relief swelled with this crew rolling in, several folks who knew what they were doing.
Soon, everybody was on their way to being stabilized. Emma and the medics were still hard at work as I walked through the area.
“Damned good thing you called me when you did,” I heard Linda say to Em. “Another half hour without the right care, and some of these guys would've been heading for comas...”
Shit! Was it really that close?
I hoped like hell my brothers were gonna be okay. Hoped just as much whoever the fuck had done this was gonna pay.
I couldn't get my mind off the poison. I couldn't stoop over and heal like everybody else, not more than the basics, anyway. The demon inside me wanted to solve this shit the way I knew best.
I had to find out who the fuck sent it here. It couldn't have been North Dakota. Soon as I found out the truth, they were gonna get a bullet through their fucking brains, even if I had to do it alone.
“Show me this whiskey shipment.” I grabbed Smokey by the shoulder as he was tending to a whore.
He looked at me, nodded, and passed the metal pan for collecting her puke to the healthy girl next to him. Smokey led me to the bar and pointed to an open box.
Several empty bottles sat next to it, and a couple more that were half-drained. The shit looked normal, sweet and unassuming in all its amber glory. I picked one up, turned it over in my hand, squeezing the neck tight.
Unscrewed the cap and sniffed. Smelled the same as it should. The sinister shit was all hidden inside it, just as downright evil as fucking with a man's booze.
“It's not from Cassandra. No fucking way Throttle sent this shit unless he didn't know it was poison. Where's the label that says it's from mother charter?”
Smokey leaned past me and dug through the box. A second later, he produced a flimsy card with CONGRATULATIONS written on the envelope. I pulled out the folded card and opened it, a cheap thing with a watercolor on the front depicting a grinning bearded man on his bike.
A message was scrawled inside in thick black ink:
We'll all be seeing each other real soon, brothers. Hell doesn't wait for badasses like us. Drink up on us for a job well done!
And keep wearing those patches proudly. Nobody goes to their grave without one.
We're all cool now.
No name underneath it. As if the red flags weren't big and bright enough, that one punched me in the fucking face. Throttle never would've sent shit along without his signature and title. Plenty of inventories and manifests on the shipments passing through Missoula on their way West proved as much.
I crumpled the card in my fist, letting the words roll around my skull. I must've been grinding my teeth like an animal because Smokey's question sounded like it was coming through a wood chipper.
“What is it, Sarge? If it's not from mother charter, then...?”
“There's only one motherfucker I remember telling us 'we're cool.'” I paused, feeling the rage gathering inside me like a storm. “Go out to the garages and start prepping guns. Tell Stone too. I'll be out soon. We're gonna pay the Pagan Rams a visit. Satan just took me by the ear and appointed us chauffeurs to haul these assholes down to hell. Need to move soon, before those fuckers take off for Grizzlies' territory. Go!”
Smokey nodded and walked off to find his fellow prospect. If those boys lived through the night, then they'd sure as hell be patched in. No doubt about it.
Before I did anything else, I grabbed the half-depleted box of whiskey bottles and stepped through the safety exit. I slammed the fucking thing down near the dumpster out back as hard as I could. A thorough check told me all the bottles were shattered, leaking the rest of their toxic contents onto the cracked pavement.
Back inside, I searched for Blaze.
The whole damned clubhouse looked like it had been turned into a sick ward. Men and women were laid up on the tables, thin sheets over a few, moaning and rolling on their sides before puking tar into the buckets their caretakers held out.
I clenched my jaw tight. Those fucks were going to pay bad. Nobody who attacked a Devils' clubhouse walked away alive, and these assholes were so fucking cowardly they'd done it without showing their faces.
I found Blaze near the back. Saffron and a paramedic stood next to him. His old lady was cradling his head, wiping the sweat off his brow. Christ, the boss never looked so damned sick and pale.
“Tank.” His eyes focused on me, as if from another world. I came closer.
“He'll be okay in a few days,” Saffron said. “That's what they've been telling me. Jesus, I can't believe I served them that crap...”
She closed her eyes. The guilt was tearing her up inside. Blaze gripped her hand tighter. Looked like he was pouring all his strength into it, telling her the guilt was bullshit, even if he didn't have the words.
I leaned in. “You need me, boss?”
“Yeah,” he said weakly. “It's the Rams...fucking know it is. Listen! You're the ranking officer while I'm laid up like this...Tank. You need...need to pay them hell for what they've done. Need to...oh, fuck.”
Blaze rolled away. Saffron scrambled to hold the bucket out for him as he dry heaved, groaning in pain as his stomach struggled to drain itself.
“Don't worry about this, boss. I'm taking Smokey and Stone. We'll do this club justice. Those fuckers will never leave this state alive.”
The young paramedic shifted uncomfortably. He looked at me and blinked, trying to pretend he hadn't heard me plotting murder.
Fuck it. Normally, I would've been more careful with civilians around. But tonight we had to do our club business out in the open, and I'd deal with the aftermath later. Right now, slitting the Rams' throats and laying their ripped up patches in front of my Prez was all that fucking mattered.
“You're doing all you can, Saffron,” I said, clenching my fists. “Make sure Emma stays here with you tonight. I'm gonna be out for awhile.”
She nodded glumly, stroking her old man's brow as he trembled. It was gut wrenching to see a big man like Blaze laid so low, all because those fucks hit us like the sneaky little shits they were. I was walking away when the realization hit Saffron and she called after me.
“Wait! Tank, you're going with three guys? You shouldn't –“
I was out the door, knowing she wouldn't follow. I wasn't gonna hear it. We both had our jobs. I had to keep going, never slowing down for an old lady who didn't understand mine.
She had to stay at Blaze's side. If I came home in one piece tomorrow, everybody would understand.
Smokey and Stone were geared up and waiting by the truck. I was ready to collect my shit and hop on my bike when I ran into Em, who was coming back inside carrying more shit from the ambulance parked by the gate.
“Tank? Where are you going?” Her eyes shifted back and forth, a worried crease in her brow.
She knew. Fuck, maybe there was one old lady I had to answer to after all. Not that she was gonna stop me...
“Gotta take care of the fucking trash, babe. Stay here. Stay safe. Make sure my brothers get well.”
I tried to keep it short and simple. Fucking dummy. I should've known by now my new old lady wasn't that kinda girl. I should've known better, shouldn't have been surprised when she grabbed at my cut while I tried to walk past her.
“How can you go alone?” she demanded “You'll get yourself killed! Don't you think the men who did this are expecting you?”
“I've got two guys,” I growled. “Those old fucking g
oats won't do shit except run. They had to go behind our backs to fuck up the club like this because they know they've got no chance in open combat. They won't stand up to a head on collision. Now, let go, babe.”
I tried not to look at her. But it was fucking impossible when she had dying stars in her eyes, fear overtaking her to the point where the blue zip bag in her hands started to shake. I reached for them and put my hands around hers, steadying the tremors.
“Tank...I've got a really bad feeling.” She looked up. The look she gave me said her heart had split and sunk to her knees. “Can't you wait? Just a few more days for the other guys to get well?”
“By the time I do that, these assholes could be hundreds of miles away. Need to go now, and catch their asses, if they haven't already beat it. I'll come home fine. I promise, babe.”
Smokey and Stone were waiting in the truck. The engine snorted to life, idling in park, ready to help me introduce the Rams to Satan's Scythe.
Fuck it. I wrapped her tight and threw my lips against hers. I kissed hard, deep, more passionate than I thought was possible. I kissed her harder, fiercer than all the ways my tongue fucked her mouth before everything went to hell tonight, reassuring as anything could ever be.
Devotion. Promise. Love.
Everything I owed her was in that kiss.
I'll come home safe, babe, I thought. Don't you fucking doubt it. I'm not gonna go anywhere 'til the Rams are laid out dead and my club's got its revenge.
“Tank...” She whispered my name as I pulled away, but I wasn't listening to anything else.
It was time to go. Emma stood on the step next to the door, watching sadly the whole time I strapped on my helmet and started my Harley. Her soft worried face lingered in the mirror as I drove. Then the prospects followed, pulling the truck behind me and blocking her out.
I had to strike the assholes who'd done this dead. If things had gone just a little bit differently, it could've easily been Em and me on the floor, twisting and puking our guts out. Fuck, if we'd fallen, the whole damn club would've been laid up worse.
My biggest hope now was that we weren't too late to kill. The Pagan Goatfuckers already had several hours to piss in our faces and flee. In the ice cold darkness, I stared at the shadowy road, squeezing the handlebars tight, making my knuckles go numb. It was all I could do to relieve the stress 'til we arrived at their evil fucking clubhouse.
If they were gone, so be it. It was never too late to kill. I was gonna find 'em wherever they were. I'd hunt their asses across the damned continent if that was what it took to put lead in their skulls.
In this life, a man lives by one cardinal rule: anybody who fucks his brothers doesn't get the chance to fuck them a second time. Our enemies end up fucked, broken, deep in an isolated grave, and forgotten before they can think about a second strike.
We pulled up to that shithole right at the witching hour. The damned place was pitch black, without so much as a neon sign lit up outside. Dead silent too.
Fuck. I had a sick feeling we were too late. Those motherfuckers had taken off, probably as soon as they'd dropped the poison whiskey off in Missoula.
Still, I wasn't walking away without searching the grounds.
Smokey and Stone parked the truck next to my bike and got out, guns ready. I walked toward them, straightening the vest I'd thrown on over my cut before heading out.
“Looks empty. I'm going in to see what's cooking before we do anything else. Stay by the truck and lay down suppressing fire on anything that moves and isn't me.”
They both nodded, taking up their positions near the hood, rifles pointed at the clubhouse. I walked, slow and alert, eyeing the dingy place through the darkness for any sign of creepers ready to pop out and put a bullet between my eyes.
Took a good look through both windows before I tried the door. The bar area looked totally dead, just as dark as the rest of the place, except for a low blue light shining behind the dusty bottles.
Shit. I'd forgotten how loud the shitty old door was when I pushed it open.
No joke, the place was like a haunted fucking house as I made my way through it, careful not to make more racket on the old wooden floor than I'd already created. I raised my nine millimeter and pointed it down the hallway leading to the room where we'd found Alice and Mickey's body.
Nothing.
It was so silent the gunshots outside sounded like the end of the world when they started. I whirled, cursing my ass while I went running back to my boys.
Smokey and Stone were pinned down. The fucks were in the woods, shooting at the ground from the fucking trees.
Shit, shit, shit.
I wished like hell I'd packed the night vision goggles before I left. The prospects were yelling at each other, eyes bright in the darkness. Nothing like facing the reaper to make a man fire on all circuits.
I did my damnedest to aim for the trees on sound alone, tracing the angle of the shots that kept hitting the ground near the truck. My brothers were inexperienced, too green to pop up for more than a quick shot that went fucking nowhere.
I aimed for one crop of trees and fired. The clip I unloaded told me something found its mark when I heard a man screaming, jabbering in the trees like a hurt gorilla. The shots and screaming stopped. Then something heavy hit the ground, snapping several branches below it.
The creaking wood behind me sounded like the noise in the woods. I didn't realize what was happening before the heavy black cylinder rolled to a stop against a chair, just a couple inches from my foot.
I turned just as the fucking thing exploded. It went off like a bomb, bright as lightning nailing me right in the eyes. Thought it was a bomb at first, but a real one at that range would've snuffed out all my senses in a heartbeat. I'd be too dead to hold another thought in my brain.
Fuck, I was still alive, wasn't I? Even with the whole world going white and green?
I was in one piece. Everything except my eyes and ears ringing. Flash grenades were the only thing that could do that.
Firing into the direction where I thought the flash bang came from didn't do shit to clear my vision. I stumbled on a table and lost my damned direction. Then some asshole pushed me and I hit the floor.
My fucking clip was empty and I couldn't see shit to reload. Not that it mattered.
The green and white burn in my vision left by the stun grenade flashed to red, and then pitch black, as soon as some bastard cracked me in the head. I wondered if I'd ever see a damned thing ever again, and then I wasn't able to wonder about anything at all.
X: Not Without My Hero (Emma)
I was next to useless after I came back inside, watching Tank and the prospects set off for God knows where. I tried to go back to tending sick brothers and their girls. Thankfully, their detox was past the critical stage where real harm could be done.
Everybody who'd been poisoned had thrown up several times, and now all they could do was lay on the table with an IV in their veins, waiting for the feverish pain left by the toxin to fade. I was checking on Stinger when Alice slunk by, going out of her way by several feet to avoid the VP.
“Hey!” I shot to my feet, flattened my hands on her back, and gave her a push. “This man needs some you, and there's only so many of us. Help me out!”
She flushed, ashamed or insulted. I wasn't sure which. Didn't care either.
“Take this cool cloth. Hold it to his head. Make sure he doesn't pull that needle out of his arm.” I reached for the tube going to the bag of water hanging over his head, giving it a gentle tug.
The raven haired girl followed my orders reluctantly. I watched closely to make sure she wasn't bullshitting me. After a minute, she was cooperating, a tiny hint of concern in her eyes. More than what should've been there just because I'd called her out.
“There's something else I need to know...” I waited for her to meet my eyes.
“What?” Her lips twitched angrily. “I'm doing what you asked. I won't let anything bad happen to him...I'll
stay with him the whole night if I have to. What else do you want?”
“I need to know about that place where the Pagan Rams had you locked up.” She opened her mouth to whine about her memory again, but I cut her off with a jerk of my hand. “Don't tell me about your amnesia. I know you had your right mind when the guys found you. Where was it?”
“How the hell should I know? I barely know where this stupid town is here.” She looked away, brushing the damp cloth gently over Stinger's forehead.
“Huh? Alice?” Stinger cracked his eyes and groaned, only for a second. Then he slumped on the table again, collapsing back into his weakened haze.
“Shhh. It's going to be okay,” she whispered.
Damn it all. Tank was worrying me sick, but my inner bitch softened a little to see her acting human toward the man who couldn't hide his raging crush.
“Tell me anything, Alice. Anything will help. How long did it take to get to this clubhouse after they picked you up? Do you remember?”
“Maybe an hour.” She shrugged.
I took a deep breath and tried to calm down. It worked. We went back and forth for a good ten minutes before I figured out the place was about an hour northwest, somewhere near the Idaho border. The hellhole where Tank might be fighting for his life had to be off I-90 between Haugan and Saltese.
Satisfied, I left her to tend Stinger and stopped by Linda, who'd set up a little command center in the infirmary. She didn't ask what I was doing until she saw me grabbing syringes from the medicine bin.
“Those won't be very useful treating all these poison cases.”
I looked up, but never stopped packing. “I'm going out. I have to see Tank. He's gone out and I'm afraid he's hurt or...”
I closed my eyes. I couldn't bring myself to say the worst word in the lexicon. Nothing would ever kill that giant, gorgeous man. It couldn't. I refused to believe it.
“Isn't this something you should leave to the professionals?” She moved to the door, trying to block me as I started to walk toward it. “I mean, I'm trying to help you out, Emma. I don't want you running off and getting hurt.”