by Wild, Nikki
The entire crowd was silent as they listened to his speech. I watched as Hunter captivated them, his movements focused, powerful, and symbolic.
“Víboras Verde has taken over fifteen girls in the last two weeks, stealing them away across the border to be left to their fates. But now… we know where they’re going, and it’s closer than we suspected.”
“And how about you tell me something I give a shit about?” The elderly biker called out suddenly, his previous mirth stricken from his stony gaze. “What about the money?”
“They’ll be plenty of money. These assholes are stacking it to the ceiling and we’re gonna hit them right where it hurts. I want the girls, you can split the money.”
To this, engines revved all around, the deafening roar filling the air.
“Juarez lays just south of El Paso, our sister in the South. The cartel is taking the girls to a new safe house ten miles west of the city limits. We take that building and you get to pin a goddamned good samaritan badge on your cut while you stuff your saddle bags with cash… And that’s money nobody on either side of the border is going to be looking for. We’re talking forty million if my source is reliable…”
The elderly president spoke up again. “What is your plan… and what would you have us do?”
Hunter glanced around the assembled bikers again, surveying his manpower resources. After a moment, he turned back towards us again with eyes full of burning conviction.
Several of the men nodded, and I merely crossed my arms and flashed him a smile.
You’ve got this, I thought aloud to him.
Hunter turned back to the assembled biker clubs. “We mobilize as a convoy, cross the border, and take the fight to them again. They won’t expect a counterstrike, and particularly not one so quickly… we’ll hit them hard and definitively, save the girls who were taken last night, and show them that we will defend our young and vulnerable.”
“For that kind of money, I’ll defend your angry goddamned grandmother… but what makes you think this is going to make one fucking lick of difference?” the elderly biker replied. “You hit them before,” he said, stroking the long, wispy scruff of goatee beneath his chin. “And that only drove them away for a few years… what makes you think that this will be any different?”
“There’s a reason we’re talking about so much money here. The cartel is moving further north to centralize themselves closer to the border,” Hunter replied. “This new safe house is being fleshed out into a base of operations. If we can crush them here, tonight, we will sever the viper’s head and scatter its men. One hit, and we take out their finances, their men, and their will to fight.”
“And you think that they will be unprepared?” He scoffed in response. “You’ve attacked them before below the border and they recouped from that. They probably learned their lesson, too. What are your expectations there?”
Hunter reflected on these words, choosing to not answer immediately. The others watched him, prepared to judge him upon his following response…
“I expect them to put up one hell of a fight. This is why I choose to unite us now, calling upon all of you to ride into battle with me… We will sweep through them like an army, and we will show them no mercy for what they have done. You ask me for my expectations? My answer is simple: I expect us to strike Víboras Verde and crush them into the blood-stained dust.”
Even without seeing his face, I could hear the menace in his conviction. He was showing them the extent of how far he was willing to go to snuff out every last trace of these monsters.
“You believe that,” the elderly biker replied, scratching his chin again thoughtfully. “You believe that with every last drop of blood in your body, don’t you?”
Hunter replied: “With every goddamned drop.”
“And you would be willing to lead this charge yourself?”
“I will not allow another to die in my place,” he insisted gravely. “I am asking you – all of you – to ride alongside into battle. But I will never ask you to take a bullet for me.
“I’ll descend into Hell to fight these fuckers and save every last soul that is left… and I will do so at the frontlines.”
The elderly biker descended from his motorcycle and strolled over towards him. While he had been hunched on his bike, the biker uncoiled into a tall, limber creature as he stalked forward.
Gazing down upon Hunter, he smiled.
“I know why you called upon me, Hunter,” he murmured. “Because of the sway I hold. You know that these men respect you, but my opinion is still a factor…
“Regardless, I have listened; you have me convinced. As club president, the Severed Sixteen MC pledges their guns to your cause,” he declared.
Briefly, the rest of the crowd murmured. One by one, the engines of their metal steeds shut down until a cold silence filled the space.
Five other bikers descended from their motorcycles to pledge their clubs. The others were mere representatives of their prospective clubs, acting in the stead of their associated presidents – who deemed themselves too important to join the fight, but were willing to send possibly proxies.
“The Winged Scorpions MC pledges their guns to your cause,” announced the vicious, limber biker who had received the severed finger – the proof of the cartel prisoner’s validity.
The next representative – a portly, balding biker of considerable age – approached and avowed: “The Moonlight Riders MC pledges their guns to your cause.”
And then, a younger but scarred and clearly experienced biker: “The Black Knights MC pledges their guns to your cause.”
Followed by the tallest, broadest one in the crowd: “The Twin Spears MC pledges their guns to your cause.”
But when it came for the final club representative, I felt my breath catch in my lungs.
The world began to spin, and I felt a couple of the Devil’s Dragons near me grab onto me, holding me upright out of concern. I steadied myself and shrugged them off, but offering a look of gratitude towards them before facing the ghost from my past.
He was close enough that I could spot the emblem on his leathers – the same strange one from long before, including the word President stitched across the bottom.
That emblem belonged to a face that looked like it had barely aged in eight years. However, it was marked with various new scars now, set deep into his face and adding a layer of darkness to his penetrating gaze.
I never thought I’d see that face again…
And, judging by the way that Hunter stiffened when he saw that face as well, it was as much a surprise to him as to me.
“You know, it’s kind of funny,” the haggard biker president chuckled loudly. “I remember the last time I saw you… you were just some little scamp at the big boy table for the first time. Back in a strip club in Phoenix – do you remember that night?”
Hunter remained rigid. “I do.”
“I lost a third of my men that night…” His face turned to stare directly across at me. “Now that I think about it, that was the last night that I saw her, too…”
Every biker in the area hardened up, listening to his words and turning from Hunter to me. Even the bikers closest to me tensed up.
The air filled with mounting dread.
“That woman had nothing to do with it,” Hunter insisted, turning to me. “She was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“Is that so?” He murmured in response.
“That’s so,” Hunter insisted.
In a gasp, I was forced back to that fateful night in a whirl of memories. I distinctly remembered the look on that biker president’s face, seated in the center of the private table, when I inadvertently crashed his meeting.
In the back of a strip club so long ago, the look in his eyes was so striking… a look of amusement and surprise.
Standing before us now, he still looked amused, but that surprise was gone. It was now replaced with something far more akin to hushed, veiled anger.
“Those are dangerous words to speak to me,” Hunter warned. “Better keep that tongue in check…”
“Oh?” The president murmured, raising his voice to address the entire assembly. “I think the rest of us – your own men included – would like to know who your esteemed guest really is…”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he scowled. “Do I have your allegiance against our mutual enemy, or not?”
“That little cartel might be your enemy,” he chuckled before turning to me, “but my enemy is standing right there.”
Every biker present turned towards me.
The flames of panic flickered at my soul, and I felt them turn to burning, searing hatred… Hunter had asked me to remain silent, but things were spinning wildly out of control.
I had to do something, but it was already too late.
The president grimly replied. “Because your guest here is the daughter of the sheriff who attacked and destroyed both of our clubs.”
Chapter 15
Silence fell over the entire assembly, and all eyes focused on me. Even the Devil’s Dragons surrounding me shifted uncomfortably, staring at the two of us with renewed eyes.
Underneath the burning spotlight of the sun, I tried to swallow the lump in my throat, but the harsh desert air had sapped the moisture from my throat.
Or was it fear instead?
“Is this true?” One of the older bikers in my midst asked. I recognized him now from that night as one of the bikers standing behind the seated conference table.
“Yes,” I answered before Hunter could dare to dig himself deeper. “The police force that attacked your headquarters was led by my father.”
The Devil’s Dragons took a step back in unison, distancing themselves from me. I dared to glance up in shame, and my gaze was met with a crowd filled with hate, betrayal, and disgust.
“You knew this?” Another Dragon growled furiously towards their leader. “The woman who rained down hellfire on the club, almost destroying it… You allowed her into our ranks?”
Hunter turned towards his motorcycle club, facing down the intensifying rage with anger of his own.
“She had no part in that,” he declared. “But her return is the reason I invited you to this little get together.”
“Well it looks like you made another mistake if you think the Obsidian Dust is going to back you. The last time round ended with men in prison and under the fucking ground,” the haggard club president growled with complete certainty. “Including Eduardo…”
The bikers surrounding me stiffened at the sound of their old boss’ name.
I flashed back to his wicked gaze from that night as he left the room, passing me with a scoff. I’d only met the man in passing, but it had left an impression on me.
“Do you remember Eduardo, Hunter? Perhaps you didn’t have a lot of time to acquaint with the former leader of the Devil’s Dragons before your little piece of ass had him gunned down in your headquarters…”
“I do remember Eduardo, and I also know exactly who’s responsible for his death,” Hunter replied coldly. “Now why don’t you go ahead and spread your bullshit one more fucking time before I end you, Fang.”
Fang… It felt so strange to finally have a name to go with the face that used to haunt my dreams…
“Your woman is responsible,” Fang replied, his crooked smile flashing.
Hunter’s movement was faster than I could anticipate. Within a matter of seconds, he was grappled the biker to the ground, landing punch after punch on his body.
The haggard man on the ground laughed, shielding his face with his forearms and trying to force Hunter back off.
I felt powerless. Clear as day I could see what was about to come…
Hunter had been so close… he had assembled all of these bikers, unified them to the cause, and now one ghost from our pasts was threatening to destroy it all…
And now those girls would never be saved.
Before I knew what I was doing, I was racing towards the two grappling biker presidents on the ground. I heard my name called out by several of the Devil’s Dragons, but I ignored them.
“Sarah! What are you doing?” Hunter grunted as I threw myself upon his back. He restrained himself as to not harm me, but I pulled at him.
“Get off of him! Now!”
Hunter glared up at me, but saw something in my eyes that convinced him to follow my lead. He pulled himself up from the biker president and stepped aside, letting me gaze down upon this stranger who had come back for us.
I whipped my Glock from its holster, gazing down the sights at him. The entire area snapped with the sound of guns whipping out and pointing our way.
Hunter spoke: “Sarah… don’t you dare…”
“Shut up,” I retorted, before focusing my undivided attention on my enemy. “I need to know what the hell is going on…”
The haggard biker laughed in the dust. “You and your fancy little gun don’t scare me, bitch,” Fang chuckled wickedly up from the dirt. “I know what happened that night… and I know that if you and your fucking boyfriend hadn’t been there, our clubs would have continued to thrive. You ruined that future…”
“Lies,” Hunter said forcefully, cutting Fang off. “You should be grateful that I don’t let this girl pump you full of lead.”
Fang was getting to his feet, completely ignoring the fact that I had my glock trained on his head.
“Why don’t you tell everyone where you were when that raid went down?” Hunter said. I glanced up and caught his smile and it only sent more confusion racing through my mind.
“What does it matter? I was lucky to get out of there with my life,” Fang replied, spitting at Hunter’s feet.
“Luck put you three hours down the highway?” Hunter said in a bemused voice. “Everyone knows most of your damn club rolled out of there before the sun came up.”
“We lost good men when that raid went down.”
“You sure as fuck did… Especially when the ones you left behind opened fire on the goddamned police.”
“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” Fang replied.
“Dragons, you know Fang didn’t stick around that night. He talks about devastation, but his club lost two men that night… We lost dozens. This is the asshole who called in a tip to the sheriffs department. He’s the one who orchestrated the raid on the Devil’s Dragons… He wiped us out and took territory from LA to Phoenix without anyone left behind to stop him.”
The crowd seemed restless, guns twitching as the clubs facing off seemed unable to decide who to trust.
“And I suppose you expect these men to just take you at your word? They’re just going to listen to you and your little police bitch?” Fang said, his shoulders squaring up.
“My little police bitch brought me all the evidence I need,” Hunter replied, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a folded square of paper. He tossed it at Fang’s feet and I gasped as I saw what it was. Half a dozen photographs spilled out from between the pages, and the pages themselves…
My case file… The pictures from the raid on the strip club… Hunter must have taken them from my cruiser!
“Thats part of the incident report, and it talks about your little fucking phone call. Why don’t you pick it up and read it to everyone? They’ve got a full transcript and a goddamned number on file to contact their favorite backstabbing snitch.”
I heard the crunching of gravel from behind. Hunter’s voice, dripping with malice, rang out in the empty desert air.
“Sarah… step aside.”
Realizing how much my hand was trembling with my anger, I lowered my gun and took a few steps away. I lifted my gaze to Hunter’s icy stare as he paused his stride where I had been standing, raising the barrel of his own gun to face down the r
ival club president.
The elderly biker president stepped from the crowd. “Hunter… You can’t execute this man without giving the Outlaws a say in it. I won’t let you do this.”
Hunter didn’t break his eyes from Fang, who was gazing at him in fear. The smugness had left his face, and he looked like he just might be standing on his gravesite.
The air was thick with anticipation.
“Lower your weapons,” Hunter ordered.
Uneasily, everyone shared glances between themselves once more. The barrels to their guns were still pointed our way. This was it: this was the make or break, and I could practically see the tension crackle between us all.
“Remember who I am,” Hunter elaborated. “This is a direct command: lower all of your weapons immediately.”
To my awe, every barrel lowered… all except his, which remained pointed down at the snake in our midst. I gazed around in a mixture of surprise and confusion when the present members of these rival clubs followed the orders of the man who had one of their own on the ground, seconds from death…
Hunter’s voice rang out:
“My name is Hunter Hargreaves, president of the Devil’s Dragons MC and reigning leader of the Outlaws. When this man’s plot killed my mentor Eduardo, I lifted his mantle and continued his work. I was determined to see his legacy come to fruition. Eduardo was no saint. He led the Devil’s Dragons into an era of running drugs, destroying lives, and rising off the broken backs of others. But there was more to the man than that. Eduardo’s dream was to unify us all into one organization of separate biker clubs, no longer limited by infighting, but strengthened against outside threats. I took that dream, steering it away from evil. He wanted uncontested power. I built upon that dream, guiding it towards harmony. All of your presidents sit on the council that I built in Eduardo’s name over the last five years. With help, I have established trade and turf agreements that allow you to peacefully co-exist… unifying you and so many others into an unbreakable coalition.”