Fury

by Cat Porter

  I contacted Dig, and he got my job done. He didn’t tell his crew, and I didn’t tell mine. When it was done, I was impressed, and he got rewarded, but he refused the money. Instead, he wanted to stay in touch and be available for me in the future.

  Today he’d requested two minutes of my time. I met up with him by the bathrooms at the Memorial an hour before the blast. Native American singing and drum beats filled the air from a show given by Native dancers on a small stage across the center as I made my way to the designated spot.

  Dig was pleased to see me, and relieved, judging from his grin. He made a pitch—a network, an alliance between the Flames, his club, and the Broken Blades, another small club who were our neighbors in Nebraska.

  “The three of us form a velvet network in our region through our territories. A network no outsider is going to want to fuck with and never will.”

  The Jacks were obviously feeling the heat from the Demon Seeds these days.

  I took in a long slow breath. “We don’t work with other clubs longterm, Dig. You know that.”

  “I know. We like our independence, too, and want to keep it that way,” he replied. “Our clubs have been coexisting peacefully for years, respecting each other from afar. Why can’t our organizations work together if it’s mutually beneficial? We could keep it simple. Offer you a specific service at a discount, of course. I’ve noticed a few glitches here and there between you and the Blades. I could help.”

  He gave me a few examples. Dig was observant, smart. He wasn’t talking out of his ass, making a play to get a backstage pass. He saw the road ahead was paved with Demon Seed intervention and pressure on the smaller clubs in our region.

  “I’ll talk to my prez,” I said, giving Dig my standard response.

  His shoulders eased, his odd light brown eyes flared. He was good with it. “Okay. I’ll wait to hear from you. You need anything in the meantime, let me know. I’ll take care of it myself.”

  I believed him.

  We tagged fists, and I took off, heading into the full crowd that had gathered for the night blast. I found Drac and Slade, another brother we hung with. Couldn’t miss his mohawk.

  “How’d it go?” Drac asked, draining his can of beer.

  “It went.” I took a long swig and wiped a hand across my mouth. “The Demon Seeds keep squeezing the Jacks, soon enough they’ll be squeezing the Broken Blades at some point, just to get in our face on our turf. Ultimately, Dig’s after our protection through an alliance.”

  “You know Vig, the Seed’s VP, has been out in Cali hanging with fucking Russians. Could get messy,” said Slade.

  “From what I hear, it’s already messy. Vig’s got some balls, man,” Drac said.

  “Dig wants no part of messy,” I said. “He doesn’t want the Jacks to be a sitting duck to anyone’s shit, and I don’t blame him. The Jacks have got a good thing going and they’re good at keeping things low key. They could be an asset. Dig’s product gets rave reviews. We could get in on that, make it ours one day.”

  “We could. You bringing it to Kwik?” asked Slade.

  “Definitely.”

  The sun had set and the night sky was perfectly dark, sparked with a sea of stars. The fireworks started as a prelude to the main event. The blast began and it was nothing short of magic. The series of small fires illuminated Crazy Horse’s stern face in the rock. The pounding successive explosions detonated in the big sky on a stunning primitive beat. Drac and Slade were speechless, their lips parted, their faces glowing gold in the reflections of the fires.

  My eyes wandered over the crowd near us. Plenty of bikers from different clubs were here tonight. I spotted Dig, his arms wrapped around a young woman. I’d done my homework on Dig Quillen. He had an old lady, Grace or “Sister” as they called her. She was around twenty-two, but looked younger, the girl next door. They’d been together for over a year and both still seemed totally into each other, attached, like they were high on being together. He bent over and whispered in her ear, and they both grinned. All was right in their world. No rough seas, no questions.

  Dig kissed Sister, starting off slow and sweet and then it turned hungry. Something coiled tightly in my chest. Those two had a place together. Serena flashed in front of my eyes in the darkness, and my muscles seized as if I’d gotten stung by a wasp. I wanted her here with me, like Quillen had his woman at his side, giving him a look that said she adored him, trusted him, was a part of him, was his and was thrilled to be, come what fucking may.

  Yeah, the come what fucking may was easier when you were together.

  The eruptions ceased and the crowd cheered and applauded.

  Sister gave Dig a warm satisfied smile, wrapping her arm around his waist as their crew left the mountain along with the massive crowd. My insides curled in burning heat like paper in fire.

  I wanted what Dig had.

  I’d never had a girlfriend. Didn’t know what that felt like or was supposed to be like. And I didn’t mean just some woman I slept with on a regular basis or hung out with. No, a connection. I knew I wanted to see that satisfied smile of Sister’s on Serena’s face. I wanted to feel the weight of her relaxed body against mine. I wanted to give her this cloudless star-filled night of fireworks and explosions and music, where the only thing she had to worry about was what outfit to wear, what to pack for a camping trip, what souvenirs she wanted me to buy her. Because she’d want a souvenir. She’d want to preserve these moments of ours together. They’d be new, and to us they’d always be that kind of significant, shiny special.

  Not—would this be the night she’d get killed? Would this be the night they’d drag her back, tear her to shreds? String me up and chop me?

  I’d make it happen, her and me, and I’d give her all the shiny, special she needed.

  “Let’s go,” Slade muttered.

  Slade, Drac, and I took off, leaving the crowd at the Crazy Horse Monument behind and headed for the campground just past Mt. Rushmore, where our club waited for us.

  We got lost in the party, and the next day, as I finally left the long line at the beer truck, I saw a familiar face.

  “Gyp!”

  Still the same tall, skinny goof with olive skin and messy jet black hair, every inch the gypsy. I slapped a hand on his shoulder. “What are you doing here, man? Good to see you!”

  He slung an arm around my shoulders. “I called Nebraska, and they said you were out here, so I was hoping to catch you. I’m on my way back to Missouri. Had to visit my mom in Utah, she just got married.”

  “How many does this make?”

  He laughed, snorting loudly. “The fifth, I think. She’s happy, whatever. I came through this way to see you.”

  “Glad you did. Real glad. This is Slade and Drac.”

  “Hey.”

  The four of us roamed over the campgrounds, drinking and talking. We checked out the games and bike races some of the clubs were having.

  “I really miss this, Finger, miss hanging out with you.” Gyp drained another watery beer.

  “Me too. You doing good out there? Things okay at the club?”

  Gyp shrugged. “Yeah sure, I guess. Money’s coming in steadier nowadays, so Coop’s happy, Chaz is happy. Reich left by the way.”

  My pulse skipped at the sound of that name. “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah, he took off for Ohio.”

  “For National?” Our national board was located just outside of Dayton.

  “He’s been real jumpy and paranoid since you left. Losing his shit over nothing all the time. Shit got crazy.” Gyp shook his head. “He got himself transferred to the chapter out there and seems to have settled in real nice. Guess he’s in line for the big leagues, eh?”

  Reich had taken off. I guess getting his dick assaulted was a real nasty hit for him. He saw enemies everywhere.

  “Oh hey, before I left t
o see my ma, Coop had a big meet and greet with the motherfuckers that took you,” said Gyp.

  “With the Smoking Guns? With Med?”

  “Yeah, bro. He is one fucked up dude. Total dust freak. Coop said he kept babbling on and on, then he’d start making some sense then drift again. Oh, and Coop said he’s got a fucking harem going.”

  “A harem?”

  “He’s got more than one old lady. Like one of those cults out in Utah.” Gyp snorted. “Is that how it was when you were there? Would’ve like to have seen that. Sounds like a pain in the ass, though. Don’t they get fucking jealous? Shit, remember when Tracy tore out that skank’s hair over Marty? That was something—”

  “No, Med only had one old lady when I was there.”

  “Coop said he’s got three or four now. Passes the older ones around too. What a fucked up fucker.”

  “Yeah. Fucked up is right,” I murmured, my heart thudding in my chest. Serena had been with Med for over four years now. She was definitely the older old lady in his harem. “After last night...I’m on the shit list now.”

  My stomach cramped. The beer suddenly tasted like piss, and I spit it out.

  Gyp let out a loud, long burp. “You okay?”

  “Yeah, yeah.” I wiped a hand across my mouth.

  I’d had to be the good soldier in Nebraska, and I had been. Now I had to make my plans. Secret, against-all-the-rules, insane plans. How much time did she have left?

  “Hey man, watch it.”

  I bumped into a long-haired blond guy with the name “Butler” patched on his colors, a One-Eyed Jack from Dig’s chapter here in South Dakota. He had his arm hanging around Sister’s shoulders, steering her through the crowd, and they were laughing. She caught my eye and sobered up, looking away quickly just like most people.

  “Asshole,” muttered Gyp.

  “Heads up. Something’s going on over there.” Drac gestured with his beer down the small hill.

  Slade gave us a lift of his chin from where he stood at the base of the slope. His eyes lit up, a huge grin splitting his face. “Fight!” You would’ve thought Muhammed Ali was down there by the way he’d said it. Nothing like a good fight. After all, riding and fighting were who we were.

  We made our way over to check it out. The Broken Blades, our frenemies from Nebraska, were arguing with another club. My face fell. The Prez of the Blades was arguing with Dig.

  Ah shit. Dig was facing off with the club he’d wanted to make an alliance with? Over what?

  Notch, the Blade’s VP, had some teenage girl tied to a leash and was pulling her around, making her available to everybody. She didn’t seem to mind, she was laughing, and so were the men standing around them.

  “Don’t you think she’s a little young for this shit?” Dig bit out, his face red, veins popping along his neck. His bros shoved him back and held onto him as he argued with Notch and the Blades Prez, Zed.

  “You gonna tell us how we gonna be?” Zed yelled. “Fuck no!”

  Battle lines drawn, excuses made, attitudes hardened, weapons at the ready.

  “He gets in my face one more time, that’s gonna be the end of him,” declared Notch as he pushed his little underage bitch, sporting a bikini and a bulging fanny pack slung around her waist, toward two other Blades. Most likely Notch has stuffed that fanny pack with all sorts of narcotic goodies. His men latched onto her like hungry puppies being rewarded with bacon for good behavior.

  Notch was a known freak, but who the hell wasn’t? To overstep the way Dig did just now was not done, especially with an officer of another club. And it wasn’t over an old lady, but some random piece of ass. I guess Dig had moral principles.

  Dig’s troubled eyes snagged on mine, an eyebrow jumped. He knew he’d stepped over the line. I shook my head at him, and a shadow passed over his straining features. He was pulled away like a wild animal having been given a tranquilizer, crumpling in his brothers’ hold. His old lady and that Butler guy came running.

  I pressed my lips together. I wouldn’t be telling Kwik about Dig’s offer, Dig’s grand idea, even though it sounded useful to us. I couldn’t now. This sort of hostility between the Jacks and the Blades was a liability and it could only get worse. So much for a “velvet network.” Fuck, on the turn of a dime, on tempers and highs, plans get destroyed like a glass slipping out of your hands, shattering on the floor around you.

  End of story before it had even begun.

  Shame.

  “Fuck, what a mess,” muttered Drac.

  We kept walking, heading for a concert on the other end of the campsite. The rest of the evening we partied, we had fun. Little did we realize, that night’s mess would create a monster pissing bitterness and rage for years to come.

  One day I would be the one who’d slash its throat and make it bleed.

  11

  I’d been keeping watch on the movement of the Kansas City Smoking Guns for weeks. Of course, we did that in general, but I needed to find the right time and right way to get in and get Serena out.

  I couldn’t tell Drac or Slade about it, about her. I didn’t want nobody to talk me out of it, or freak out on me and get me busted for it.

  Only one person.

  I pulled up to the laundromat two towns over and headed for the bank of pay phones at the end of the small strip of shops. My office of choice. I popped in the change and dialed. The beeper beeped, and I pushed in the number, hung up the phone, and waited.

  Mrs. Macafee from the diner in town came out of the laundromat with a huge blue nylon laundry bag in a cart, tossing me her usual frown, and as usual I ignored it.

  The phone rang, and I grabbed it.

  “Yeah?” came his voice.

  “Dig?”

  “That’s me.”

  “It’s Finger.”

  “Hey, man.” The husky tone of his voice lightened. “How’re you doing?”

  “Need help from you.”

  “You got it.”

  “This is between us. Has nothing to do with my club or yours. You still interested?”

  “Tell me.”

  “I’m gonna need a safe house in South Dakota. Might have to keep someone there for a week or two, then we’ll be out of your hair.”

  “Not a problem. Got just the place, and it’s mine. No one knows about it.”

  “What do you want for it? I got some money, and I can give you—”

  “I don’t want your money. I just want you to be open to working with me, grease that channel with your club. I know what happened with me and Notch fucked things up with the Blades, and that doesn’t seem to be going away. You calling me to ask, shows that you knew I’d help you.”

  The Blades and the Jacks were now on totally shit terms, shittiest in their history. That new friction was causing lots of problems for all of us.

  “Yeah. That sucked.”

  He let out a laugh. “That’s the word for it.”

  “I’ll do what I can. I promise.”

  “I appreciate it. When do you need the safe house?”

  “Not sure yet. It’ll be a last minute kind of thing.”

  “Try to give me a week’s heads up at least, and I’ll let you know how to get there.”

  As I listened to his smooth voice, my insides squeezed with the knowledge that I was one step closer to what I wanted most in the world.

  “Dig?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Thanks, man.”

  “Means a lot that you’d come to me for this.”

  “Means a lot that you agreed.”

  The huge yearly meeting of the Flames was set to happen in LA, and all the officers and most of the members from our chapter were going. At the same time, the huge yearly meeting of the Smoking Guns was happening not too far away in San Diego. The two clubs often managed to have these convention like
meetings in close proximity and at around the same time. Provoking each other and making the FBI and local police forces freak out were opportunities too good to pass up.

  “Finger!” my President’s voice called me from down the hallway as I passed.

  I went into his office. “Hey, Kwik.”

  “Listen, I appreciate all the prep you’ve been putting into this trip.”

  “Yeah, of course,” I replied.

  “But I’m going to have to ask you to stay here. Dwyer got taken to the hospital this morning with pneumonia. Idiot never took those antibiotics he was supposed to be taking when he got that bad cold last month after his run up to Canada, and now he’s fucked but good. Need you to cover his pick up in Sioux City. You know how big this one is for us. No one I trust more.”

  My face slackened, my mouth opening to protest.

  Hold up.

  That Sioux City run wasn’t for another four days. Also, Med wouldn’t take Serena along to California. Old ladies weren’t welcome at these conventions. My muscles tightened. This was my time.

  I raised my chin at Kwik. “No problem.” If anyone found out what I was planning, I’d be thrown in a cell and locked up for insanity.

  I took care of a few last minute errands for the run, then headed back to the laundromat payphone to contact Dig.

  No answer.

  No answer.

  Shit. I’d try again tonight. I had to make this happen tomorrow.

  Fucking hell. Tomorrow.

  12

  She wasn’t at the house she shared with Med. She wasn’t anywhere in town. Not at the grocery store, not at the Army & Navy store, the only stores in town. There was no way to contact her, and frankly, I didn’t want to give her a heads up, ‘cause she just might tell me no. She’d been with him a while now. Maybe she’d gotten used to being a prisoner? Gotten comfortable in her hell? You either got desensitized to constant fear or you were a ball of fear yourself.