Linc's Retribution

by Lake, Brair

  The sound of several Harley’s coming to life, and the command “Ready to roll boys?” Breaks into the silence of the night. The sweet sound of raw power and the smell of exhaust fumes rapidly fills the night air.

  As we ride on the empty Louisiana roads it’s not long before we have left a moonless Comfort Springs behind us. Thankful for the black night and with the aid of our dim lights on the Harleys. We become silhouettes against the sky line. Blending into our surrounding.

  This is a run we have done countless times. On a road we are familiar with. However this does not mean we are complacent about the journey. We are in a business where the need to avoid errors is essential. There is no speeding. No full throttle of the Harley’s. We have no intention of drawing attention to ourselves.

  We have being on the road for a couple of hours before we reach a familiar turn off. With a turn to the right, we leave the main fairway, turning up a dirt road. Riding the last twenty miles in silence. So far the evening is going well. As vigilant as we are, in the back of our minds is Black County Stewards and Tats. Each of us wonder when and what form their retaliation will be. We never stop scrutinizing our surrounding area.

  In the distance we see the flames of a fire. The Scarlet Runners have arrived, and it looks as though they are here to party.

  Parking our bikes, Inferno and the rest of the officers make their way over to Sinbad and his men. As we greet each other with the affection of friendship. The sound of man hugs, slaps and fist thumps fill the air

  Scarlet Runners road Manager, Dill, is handing out beers to everyone and we haul up some old crates to sit on and relax. There’s a party atmosphere about us and we are enjoying the camaraderie. Sinbad is not in any rush to do business tonight. To anyone passing by, we are just a group of bikers partying and getting drunk, some may even be getting high.

  What they do not suspect or know, is that there are guards surrounding the property. All of whom have their eyes peeled in to the darkness, watching for outsiders. Ready to aim their guns at anyone whose intentions are to cause trouble. Yes, Sinbad’s security is tight.

  “Fuck, I missed doing the run.” Turning to the voice that is complaining, I see that Crabby has placed himself beside me, swallowing a small swig from his beer bottle.

  “How did the babysitting go?” I ask, not bothering to hide the laughter in my voice.

  “Fuck Linc, like I said I missed the run. Why the hell did Tabby put me on babysitting duty? The girl had me doing all sorts of shit. Fuck. I think she mixed up with a fucking prospect.”

  For a few moments we stare in to the flames, thinking of the girl who has Tabby by the balls. “You think he’s ever going to forgive her?”

  “Would you? If it had been your Harley that she had crushed?”

  I observe Crabby as he stares at Tabby. “No. But I think it’s more than that. You are aware she’s out of bounds to everyone. And that he collects and drops her off. He watches every move the girl makes. Hell if that man ever has a daughter I’m going to feel sorry for her.”

  Crabby’s remark has me laughing. It also reminds me of the problems that are waiting for me back home. Fuck it. If I ever get myself a daughter. The first thing I am going to do is teach her to fight, and it’s going to be dirty. And if any little bastard comes sniffing round her. He will have to deal with me. To hide my pain, I swallow a mouth full of beer. I cannot bear the thought that I may never be a father.

  Tonight I need to make good on one of my promises I made to Cassie. “Round up the brothers. Its time to unload the Cage and leave this place.” I instruct Crabby. Whilst I make my way over to Tabby. I am about to make him a little disgruntled with my request. Fuck, the knot in my neck is back.

  Grabbing a couple of beers from the cool box, I hand one to Tabby “Good Run?”

  From beneath lowered eyelids, Tabby’s focus is on me. Undaunted, I watch as he takes a slug of the cool amber liquid. “Something on your mind VP.” Tabby is not a fool.

  “Fire Lacey.”

  “That the whore you fucked?”

  There’s no point in lying. Instead, to bide myself some time. I swallow some of my own beer before I answer “Yep.”

  “Fuck it Linc she’s a good worker and brings good money into the club. I’m not going to fire her just because you fucked things up with Cassie.”

  “This is not a request Tabby. She has to go. And I don’t care how you do it. Relocate her for all the fuck that I give. Just get her out of Tie Me Down.”

  “And what about her loss of earnings to the club until we get someone else?”

  “No problem. I’ll cover the costs the first month she’s gone.”

  “Three months.”

  “Two. And get rid of her as soon as. OK.”

  Tabby tosses his empty beer bottle into the metal container as he strides over to Inferno and Sinbad.

  “Done.”

  Satisfaction rolls through my body as I finish off my own beer. The cool liquid sliding down my throat as I close my eyes. One problem solved. This leaves me with just two to solve. Moving back home was proving to be more difficult than I had anticipated. The other one I was still not ready to face, and I am not sure if I ever will be.

  More handshakes and back slaps are exchanged as we finish our business with the Scarlet Runners. And after I finish at the club, I am going home to my bed where a sexy woman is waiting for me. That kind of knowledge puts a man in a good frame of mine.

  Chapter 8

  A loud piercing whistle breaks into the yard causing us to seize our movements when we were about to mount our bikes. As a whole, all our glances fall to Sinbad, who is staring towards one of the trees, as he reaches for his phone. In the distance we hear the faint sound of bike engines, and I realize this is what has the Scarlet Runners on alert. Bikers are approaching, and that can only mean trouble.

  In the back of my mind I have an inclination to whom the riders are. As I watch my fellow brothers, they also have their own suspicion, reaching for their weapons without removing their eyes from the oncoming bikes.

  “Expecting company?” Inferno enquires as he moves away from his bike to stand next to Sinbad.

  “No, You?”

  I know who it may be, and so does Inferno. However he is going to play for a little time and refuses to answer straight away. “It might be Black County Stewards?”

  It does not take me long to scan the area, taking in as in as much detail as I can. The Scarlet Runners are alluding postures of false relaxation as they continue to drink and chat amongst themselves. The tension in my body is becoming tight as the bikers draw closer. Within moments the bikes and riders pull into the lot. There are about fifteen of them, and when I see their cuts my suspicions are confirmed.

  Black County Stewards have made their move. The testosterone level in the yard is escalating, infiltrating into the atmosphere. You can smell the anticipation of the upcoming battle. For a large man Tats dismounts from his bike gracefully, before ambling to where we are standing. Like a majority of bikers, Tats’ skin is covered in ink and when he removes his helmet he reveals a shaved head. Until I had met Tats, I had never come across brown eyes that were soulless. If he has any emotions they are well hidden.

  “Inferno. Sinbad” Tats does not cross they yard on his own. He is accompanied with several of his men, including three of his officers. Several more Black County Stewards remain on their bikes. To an outsider we appear to be outnumbered by eight men. Luckily for us, there are the men who are hid in the trees.

  “Tats.”

  Tats removes a cigarette from his vest pocket, cupping the flame as he lights it. With a deep breath, the end of the cigarette became a vibrant red against the darkness of night. On a slow release, he exhales the smoke through his nostrils. His eyes are half closed as the smoke vanishes in to the air around his face. Tats is a methodical man, and there is no rush in anything he does. His lazy appearance is a deception that most people underrate at a cost to themselves.

  In a
mimic of my earlier actions, Tats scans the surrounding area weighing the odds against himself and his crew. If he is aware of the guards he will ignore their presence till the end. Like us, he needs to keep them in their present positions.

  Dec and Mississippi, the Scarlet Runners Sergeant at Arms, move to the right of their president’s. Meanwhile the silence stretches as we wait on the Black County Stewards next move.

  Tats is Devil’s Comforts problem, and Inferno acknowledges this by breaking the silence.

  “Tell me what you want Tats. Because I sure doubt this is a fucking a social visit?”

  “Looks to me you guys are having a party. So maybe this is a social visit?”

  “Cut the bullshit and get to the point Tats.” Inferno and his lack of patients is well known.

  Slowly, Tats steps back with a negative motion of his head. “Come Inferno lets be pleasant about this.” He drawls, arching his cigarette butt in to the air, watching it sail through the air before it lands on a piece of dry soil.

  When the cigarette butt finally lands on the ground, Tats twists his body round. His fist is pulled back. Just before he lands it across Inferno’s face. The force of the punch causes Inferno’s head to swing to the right. Inferno retaliates with a fist of his own into Tats stomach which causes Tat’s to hunch over. Rapidly the fight escalates in to a free for all.

  Bodies roll and crash into each other as fists are thrown at our opponents. Men falling on to the ground. While others fall over the inert ones and still the punches keep coming. The old abandoned crates we had being using for seats are turned into weapons. The wood splintering as they are smashed over heads, backs and legs.

  As I swing one of the crates on to the skull of my opponent, I am attacked from behind. An unknown biker has thumped me in the back causing me to stagger to my knees. To steady myself, I drop my hands to the ground, drawing in a mouthful of air before I pull myself back up and swing my fist at the biker. When my opponent is unbalanced, I grip him in a neck lock. As I pound my fist into his stomach his arms grab my waist and he makes a run forward. My legs may be shaky but I manage to hold myself steady. When the advantage is mine, I throw another punch at him. This time my opponent staggers back.

  As the fight evolves, our bodies begin to stagger from the power of the punches we are throwing. Meanwhile our bodies are beginning to tire. But we carry on fighting. Slowly one by one the fighters begin to dwindle. This is due to the bikers either being knocked out or they have stepped back from the brawl due to lack of strength. Devil’s Comforts and Scarlet Runners came out the victors in this battle.

  With one last fleeting look round the yard, Tats climbs on to his bike and turns towards us. “That was for Boris. The next time it’s for the club.” Boris was their last president, who we had disposed of, after he brought drugs into Comfort Springs.

  As the bikers depart I give the area one last glance. Quickly assessing the damage. Broken crates lay scattered over the ground. The men are standing in various positions, rubbing their injuries, or just simply shaking out the aches in their fists. Most are catching their breaths. It has being a long hard fight and most of us have suffered in some form. I have not come away unscathed. With a slight lean forward, I rest my hands on my knees as I take in a deep lungful of air.

  As soon as I am able to, I bring my body up straight. This movement cause me to rapidly draw in another breath of air, as an intense sharp pain shots across my ribs and down my side. Fuck, there were going to be several bruises there. My knuckles wear the marks of more bruises to come. I run the tip of my tongue over my lip, and discover it has being split from someone’s fist.

  Fudge staggers his way over to me. He too is bearing the scars of being in this battle. A bruise forming on his left cheek. Still nothing stops the grin on his face as he slaps me on the shoulder, and drapes his arm round me.

  “Good fight?”

  Running the tongue over my lip I return his smile with a big one of my own, “Fuck, yeah.” To ease the cramp in my hands I lock my fingers together, stretching my arms forward and click the joints in my hands as I roll my neck. Inferno ambles across to us. He too is wearing a grin on his face, flashing his white teeth. And like the other bikers, he has not come away from the fight unscathed as his eye begins to swell.

  “Time to roll brothers and get our shit back to the club.”

  “Sure thing Prez” Once more we say our farewells to the Scarlet Runners and thank them for the entertainment they provided. By the time we are set to leave, The Scarlet Runner’s party is back in full swing. What had begun as a drinking session has now turned into a celebratory party. This may not be Scarlet Runners ground. However, they are in no rush to leave and will crash here for the night.

  Despite the untimely interruption from our uninvited guests. The evening has been a success. We managed to dispose of our merchandise, and we know that for now, we need not fear any reprisal from Black County Stewards. This makes the return journey more jubilant and relaxing than it has being for a long time.

  By the time we arrive back at the club it is early morning and our bodies are buzzing with adrenaline. As much as I want to return to Cassie, I will spend the rest of the night here with my brothers.

  When Inferno and I reach the bar, we help ourselves to a bottle of beer.

  “OK boys, meeting room now.”

  Chapter 9

  It’s sometime before the room settles and business can be discussed.

  “OK boys. We had a good run and The Scarlet Runners are happy with the merchandize we provided for them. However that’s not the reason for this meeting. Tonight Tats and Black County Stewards made their move. And no matter what Tats said. That little scuffle will not be the end of the matter.” The room quickly sobers up as we listen to what Inferno has to say and how we plan to retaliate against the impending threat.

  “Dec, contact Twiggy and get him back here. Tell him I don’t know how long it will be for. But it will be until this shit with Black County Stewards is sorted.”

  “Sure thing Prez, I will ask for an ETA from him while I’m at it.”

  “When’s the next run Linc?”

  “We have the drug run coming up in two weeks.”

  “You and Fudge work together on this and check out a couple of alternative routes.”

  “Will do.”

  “Church is in a couple of nights see you there bros. Memberships and fines need to be paid on that night. Now ladies go and have some fun.”

  Instead of joining the rest of the brothers when they return to their celebrations. I remain in my seat, my mind is on Black County Stewards. The problems they are causing us, and our history with them.

  Their previous president, Boris had been a pain in the ass. Plaguing both, Comfort Springs and Devil’s Comfort MC for the last three years. Ever since Inferno had taken on the gravel. Before we had taken over the leadership, Boris and Yorkie, our old president had being allies. However I would not say they had been friends.

  After twenty years as president, Yorkie had retired due to ill health. He had being a good and fair president. The only difference between the past and present presidents, was how the clubs commodities had changed. Three years ago we expanded our operations to include gun running along with the drugs. If people wanted this shit. We were happy to supply it.

  When we moved in to the gun business some of the older brothers had retired, stepping back from the MC. Their excuse was to play the age card. At their departure the dynamics of the club had altered drastically and a whole new board of younger officers took on the reigns of the club.

  The move to guns had brought our problems with Black County forward. At the time Black County were supplying drugs to The Scarlet Runners. This all changed when they went into business with us and our guns. It was not long before we were doing drug business with them.

  “You OK there?”

  “Yeah, just reminiscing.”

  “Want to talk about it?” In some ways Baby Blu has softened Inf
erno up, and there are times like this, when Inferno acts like a mother hen.

  “Just thinking of Yorkie, and that I may take a run out to his place in a couple of days. It’s been a while since we were last out there.”

  “Let me know when, and I’ll take a ride with you. Pay my respects and all. Anyway just letting you know I’m off home to Baby Blu. What about you?”

  “It’s late, I may as well spend what is left of the night here, before I move my shit in to the apartment.”

  I am still on a high from our earlier encounter with The Black County Stewards. This is the problem with early mornings and adrenaline pumping through your body, and with no way to levitate it. It gave you time to think. And for the last few hours. No matter how hard I try not to think about the choices Cassie has given me. They are never far from my thoughts.