by Nikki Wild
The diabolical biker president was still as formidable a force as ever, and that didn’t bode particularly well for me.
My old enemy came to a casual stop in front of me, chewing on something in his mouth. He spat out against the concrete, turning to lock his burning eyes onto me.
“Long time,” he muttered angrily.
I offered a sly smile.
“Hello, Talon…”
Twelve
Hunter
Talon led his brigade inside the port, his band of vile bikers serving as my large-scale escort towards his main complex. I rode with his men on either side, following him as he led our improvised little parade on his own chrome motorcycle – outfitted with the best a bike can have.
Passing between shipping docks and walls of storage containers, I rode towards a raised building in the distance, overlooking the port by the water. Smaller buildings and warehouses stood at the foot, visible across the water.
I was led to one of these warehouses in particular, just beneath the main building. There, I parked and descended my bike while my distant Los Angeles cousins did the same around me.
They did so enjoy their intimidation tactics.
Talon walked ahead, leading the entire swarm of us towards the main, raised building. Clicking his fingers, a pair of his men rushed through a nearby door and raised the electronic shutter from the other side, lifting the wall and revealing a hidden bar at the foot of the place.
My eyes slid upward as I was escorted in. Strong, solid steel legs held up that raised building with a metallic, rusted staircase leading up to the top, wrapping around a square column.
Said square column looked like an elevator, as I was shoved into the bar. It sat along the edge of a wall with a pair of biker guards placed at the front.
He clearly didn’t want people getting up there without proper clearance.
The bikers took their places at bar tops and around pool tables as Talon walked forward, climbing up into what appeared to be a large, raised chair built mostly out of motorcycle parts.
It was his throne.
As soon as he was in a comfortable slouch, my enemy turned to me with a haggard grimace. That look on his face spoke volumes to the contempt that he held me in.
With such a simple glance, he painstakingly reminded me that I was surrounded by the vast majority of his club, alone, no weapons to call my own, and the gravity of a very old grudge weighing down upon me…
“You have five seconds to explain what the fuck you’re doing in my port,” Talon growled, cracking his knuckles, “or else it’ll be just like old times…”
“My woman is on her way here,” I explained calmly. “Her name is Sarah. She–”
“Your woman, eh?” Talon replied quickly. “She was already here poking around my port. My men brought her to me, and she told me some interesting stories…”
Fuck.
The damned woman hadn’t even stopped for a fucking power nap. She’d driven straight here and somehow found her way to Talon… I already gave her a lot of credit for being resourceful, but this was a new record.
“Where is she now?” I asked cautiously.
Talon grinned malevolently.
The fucker enjoyed his position of power over me, and it was as plain as goddamn day.
“You think that I’d hurt her?”
I had to quickly make a choice.
“Maybe,” I answered calmly. “If she mentioned my name, then just maybe…”
Talon let loose a long and hearty laugh, before covering his mouth with a large fist as he coughed violently for a few seconds.
“You have my word that she’s safe, although if I’d had time to properly check into her claims before she left…” Talon grumbled finally. “I sent your woman’s pretty little ass away, but you’re lucky that’s the only thing I did…”
Relief washed over me, but it made me wonder.
Sarah… what did you tell him?
What did you do?
“The entire thing raised a question for me, however. This stranger in my territory knew your name, she knew my name, she knew my Devil’s Dragons… I find it hard to believe that you would let a mere woman hear my name. How exactly did she come by that kind of information?”
If there was one thing that Talon hated, it was people knowing who he was…
I needed to run damage control, quickly.
“Viboras Verde,” I spat out. “Sarah was with me when we counterattacked the cartel. She helped me save those cheerleaders and the undocumented girls. It was all over the news.”
Talon tilted his head.
“I’d heard some stories, yes. You have a bit of a hard-on for fucking around with the cartels, don’t you?”
“They took my sister,” I replied.
Talon nodded, rubbing his beard between a thumb and two fingers. “So they did… and you struck when they came back. You’re saying that Sarah was there?”
“She was,” I replied proudly. “She even found records of their operations. My Dragons and I have been swatting the fuckers down everywhere that they’ve turned up since.”
Talon’s face curled into a grin.
God, I always hated it when the fucker grinned.
“And I suppose that’s how your woman became intimately aware of your little shit-stain club, and us by association…”
I knew that the only way to deal with a man this dangerous was to put everything out on the table. Someone as cold and calculated as Talon always knew more than he let on, and trying to keep information from him was blatant disrespect at best… and worth a bullet at worst.
“Sarah is a private investigator,” I told him clearly and plainly. “I’m helping her work through a case that brings her this way.”
“A private investigator, you say?” Talon chuckled. “I had no idea…” Whether he was pulling my leg or not, there was no telling, and that’s just how he liked it.
“Sarah is searching for a shipping container that went missing from this port. This client of hers seems to have a lot of interest in it…”
“You’re wasting my time,” Talon grimaced. “You aren’t telling me anything new, including why you are here.”
“Talon, you pride yourself on information,” I replied as evenly as I could manage. “You like to know everything about what’s going on in your circles… every container that comes through this port… every client who wants to send seaside business through Los Angeles…”
He merely watched, waiting for the point.
“You can see then why I would find it strange that you didn’t know the container belonged to Soroka Sarkonov.”
That got a reaction.
Talon’s eyes flared in abject anger as he ascended from his throne, standing his ground above me with indomitable fury. He could barely stutter out his words.
“What… did… you… just… say?”
“Soroka Sarkonov owns that missing box,” I crossed my arms. “Sarah knows it too, but she doesn’t know a fucking thing about Sarkonov. She doesn’t believe that she’s in any danger. I tried to stop her, but she came here without me.
“I’m here to bring her back, no questions asked, without another word about this fucking container. We both know that anyone who gets mixed up with Sarkonov is dancing with the Devil.”
Talon slowly lowered himself down to his throne again, although his villainous slouch was nowhere to be seen. Instead, he sat forward, carefully watching me.
“Sarkonov? I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” he insisted darkly, eyes glinted with malice.
Fine. Be that way.
I’ll play your little game.
“Don’t believe me, then,” I shrugged lazily. “I’m telling you who owns the container, and we both know you don’t want to be on the wrong side of this woman. Who do you think she’s going to blame for her shit going missing? The port authority, or you?”
The biker president stroked his beard some more, leaning back further into his t
hrone. He considered these words thoughtfully, and I was left to stand in the midst of his people and wait uneasily for his response.
When it didn’t come, I spoke up again.
“I respect your position despite our…”
I fumbled for the right word.
“…Differences. We both know that you’re higher up the food chain, but I find it surprising that you’d be willing to work with Soroka… unless you didn’t know.”
Talon glowered at me, studying my expression.
That’s the moment that I knew.
“So it was a surprise,” I confirmed. “Holy shit. Soroka Sarkonov sent a container through your port and it didn’t blip your radar.”
He stiffened in his seat, his face a mixture of surprise and anger. “Why are we having this fucking conversation?”
“Because the woman carrying my child won’t listen to reason, and what’s the first thing she does when I tell her a fucking dangerous arms dealer is involved with her case? She drives straight fucking here.”
Talon laughed heartily again, obscuring more coughing. One of his bodyguards reached for a hand-rag for him, but he waved it away.
“Your woman has some real balls, Hunter… Got some information out of me I wasn’t trying to give.”
“Sounds like her,” I smiled.
Talon composed himself and gazed down at me with a mixture of irritation and amusement. I watched the cogs spinning in his head as the scales slipped back and forth.
Which one is going to win out?
“I know your missing container,” he finally explained to my surprise and relief. “We were supposed to load the crate onto an eighteen wheeler, but the crate disappeared.”
“It disappeared? Is that the story you’re going to tell Soroka? You’ve got guards posted on every damn exit. Tire shredders. Steel gates.”
“I didn’t say the crate left the port,” Talon growled impatiently. “I said it fucking disappeared.”
“So where the hell is it, then? Crates don’t just disappear off your goddamn dock unless you want them to disappear.”
“Remember your place, boy,” Talon growled menacingly, his voice creaking in his lungs. “Unless you want a second reminder of what happens when you forget where you stand…”
Before I could respond, his expression changed.
A mischievous glint appeared across his face as his eyes settled on the wound that he’d given me… the constant reminder that stretched down one side of my face.
“Maybe I can even you out a little,” Talon thought aloud, his irritation becoming very, very clear. As he began playing with a knife, I realized that I was pushing him too hard. “Such sloppy work I did before on the first one. I can even touch up the old scar, maybe…”
It was time I went for a different angle, before things started getting dicey. I didn’t exactly like dicey, especially not with this guy…
“Look, Talon. We both know who’s paying Sarah to look into this. Soroka wants information about your chapter of the Devil’s Dragons and she didn’t come to you for it… She’s paying my woman through one of her proxies, and that means she thinks you might be involved in making that container disappear, as you put it.
“That means that you’re now a dead man walking… Maybe I can help you.”
“You want to help me?” Talon suddenly roared, rising from his seat. “You arrive on my territory unannounced, barely behind that vapid bitch of yours, prowling through my port looking for a fucking box? And you have the audacity to pretend you are useful to me?”
“I can help you find the goddamn thing,” I replied. “You know that I can. Just give me a chance to help you and–”
Talon covered his face with a cough, undergoing a particular nasty fit. He hunched with the strain, and things started clicking in my brain as I watched him. He glared down at me, continuing to try and stifle his coughing with a fist.
I could see it now – the way he bent his back sometimes, the way his voice rattled in his chest...
“You’re dying, aren’t you?”
Talon stiffened up, his dark eyes piercing the air. He held me in his gaze for several seconds, the intensity of his retinas burning into mine.
“Yes, boy,” he growled. “I am dying.”
A hint of sadness temporarily overcame me. I could see how the years were gnarling him on the inside. Criminal lord or not, Talon was–
“No,” he snarled. “Don’t you dare.”
“Don’t what?”
“Pity,” the wicked biker club president groaned as he relaxed into his throne. “Hunter Hargreaves, don’t you fucking pity me or I’ll make sure you’re fucking waiting for me in Hell…”
The window was closing, and I knew it.
“Talon, I can help you,” I replied quickly. “Whatever’s happening here, I’m a Devil’s Dragon. Some of my men still remember the things you have done, but they’ll follow me. Just say the word, and I’ll pledge my help. We can help each other!”
Talon lifted his bearded chin, his lips pulling into a defiant, toothy grin. Before he even uttered the words, I knew his answer.
“You are no Devil’s Dragon,” Talon sneered. “I have ex-communicated you and your miserable band of sewer scum from my organization. You are incredibly lucky that I’m learning who your bitch is now… Otherwise she would have never left this port in one piece…”
“You’re threatening my woman and my future child,” I reminded him gravely.
“It is amusing to me that your luck has held out for as long as it has,” Talon replied coolly. “You have attacked a dangerous cartel – twice, always coming out ahead. You survived a police raid that claimed the lives of your superiors. You escaped into the desert to live another day and took command of a club you had no right to… And your woman is still alive even though she lied to my fucking face. Hunter, tell me,” he smiled evilly. “What happens the day that your luck runs out?”
The malice in his words was clear as day.
He was never going to help me.
I was all out of cards to play…
“When that day comes, Talon,” I replied as calmly as I could, a confident smile crossing my face, “I hope you pray to whatever Gods you answer to that you are nowhere near me.”
“Such conviction for someone with no power here,” Talon countered almost aloofly.
“I came to you man to man. No weapons, no bullshit. I live by the same rules you do. I’ve given you information, and I’ve showed you respect. With my woman in danger, the past is behind us…
“I’m here to help you, Talon. You call on my Dragons, and we will be here for yours.”
“How touching,” he chuckled with a staggered cough. “The rightful Devil’s Dragons can handle this alone.” With a click of his fingers, he added: “Men… escort this motherfucker out.”
Thirteen
Sarah
Three Hours Ago
I should have done a lot more research on this fucking place, I thought bitterly to myself.
Twelve hours of driving had really taken it out of me. Even after taking the occasional power-nap in the car on the long trek here, I was absolutely exhausted from the drive.
My reward was that I’d made it to the Port of Los Angeles. Now, the trouble was finding out exactly where I needed to go.
The port was massive, sprawling in every direction. It must have been miles upon miles long, with possibly hundreds of warehouses along the coast, all variously nondescript and lacking much visible distinction.
In layman’s terms, I was basically fucked.
There was no telling where the Los Angeles Devil’s Dragons were, let alone their leader.
What didn’t help was that nobody was willing to offer a hand. I noticed some dockworkers out and about, performing their work and surveying the docks. None were too receptive to my questions, and I realized that I wasn’t sure where to start.
It was a goddamn needle in a haystack.
Not just any haystack. That
was too easy. This particular haystack stretched out towards the horizon in every conceivable direction…
After the first hour of walking around and asking questions, a grumpy old fucker with a clipboard overheard me losing my temper. He looked like some kind of a shipyard supervisor, and he was pissed.
“What the blazes are you yammering about?” He grumbled, smacking the clipboard against a shipping container. “And for God’s sakes, woman, how the fuck did you get in here? What kind of security are they putting on this place?”
“I’m looking for the Devil’s Dragons motorcycle club,” I told him after calming down.
He glanced at me for a moment, his face stonewalling in the instant. “Can’t help you there. Never heard of ‘em. Now beat it, before I call the cops.”
“Of course you haven’t,” I groaned. “How the fuck am I supposed to find Talon in all of this?”
The supervisor paused.
“What did you just say?”
I searched his eyes for a moment. “I’m looking for an old bastard who goes by ‘Talon.’ He’s the leader of the Devil’s Dragons motorcycle club, and I know he controls this port…”
“So, you’re the girl?” He asked curiously and quietly, his eyes narrowing.
I didn’t know what the hell he was talking about, but I knew the answer that was going to get me answers instead of wandering around this godforsaken port another couple of hot, boring hours.
“Yeah. I’m the girl. And I need to speak to Talon.”
The supervisor looked me over.
After a moment, he glanced around, ensuring that nobody else was listening in. Satisfied, he lowered his face and whispered. “He told me you might be coming… You’ll want to be real careful before you meet the man you want to find. I can make the call, but you have to be certain you can handle yourself.”
“I can handle myself,” I replied indignantly.
The supervisor straightened up.
“Your funeral, little miss.”
With that, he walked over the way he’d come, popping open a box on a support beam. Lifting a phone receiver to his ear, he spoke quietly, throwing a glance my way.