The Rising Sons Motorcycle Club

by Davida Lynn

  Walking up to the leader of the group of mercenaries sent to kill every Rising Son, Gunner spit down onto Carlos. “Quit bitchin’. You’ll live.”

  He turned back to Raven. She still stood strong with the gun firm in her hands. He kissed her on the cheek. “Good shot, babe.”

  “What do we do with the rest?”

  “Get the wounded from the basement and then throw this trash where they were keeping Faith. We’ll figure out what to do with them later on.” Gunner walked back into the shot-up room where the Rising Sons had first made their attack. He pounded on the door. “Trask, we got things under control. Come on in, brother.”

  The door opened, and Trask stood there smiling. “It’s about time things swing in our favor.” He came through the door and into the main area of the warehouse where Rising Sons were clearing the carnage that Gunner had caused with the AK.

  Carlos was lying on the floor. One pant leg had been shredded from the shotgun blast, and it was beginning to soak through with blood. Gunner tore the fabric away to make sure there was nothing life threatening. After seeing only oozing blood, he stood up.

  “Didn’t hit any arteries. He’ll bleed out in a day if we let him, but he’ll stay awake long enough for us to get what we need.”

  Trask stood over one of the men responsible for multiple deaths and the destruction of Los Bandoleros. “This ain’t your day, asshole.”

  “He’s a fucking psycho. All he ever talks about is how the club betrayed him. He threatened my cousin into building him that bike. That’s how he got in touch with me. He told me to get a crew together. He promised us three hundred grand.”

  Carlos was leaning over, tearing his good pant leg into bandages. He was sliding the fabric beneath his wounded leg as Gunner and Trask stood around. The four mercenaries were locked in Faith’s former cell.

  Gunner nodded. “You’re doing a great job of painting yourself as an innocent here, Maldonado. You sent men to kill us, so don’t play that shit.”

  No one could get any emotion from Carlos. He didn’t seem to care about his situation, even if that meant his head. He didn’t make eye contact with any of his hired guns or look at the bodies as the Rising Sons cleared them from the warehouse. He was stone cold, and it was getting on their nerves.

  “I was doing a job. Sometimes my job means breaking fingers, other times it means killing. The price is all I’m interested in. Your gang isn’t some Boy Scout troop out cleaning up the highway. You know exactly what this life means.”

  Gunner planted a boot into Maldonado’s side. The man doubled over with pain. Gunner bent down, hissing, “We are not a gang. We are a club of motorcycle enthusiasts. Beyond that, I don’t know what to tell you. We came out here for Mrs. Rivers and some information. We have half the package deal, so why don’t you tell us where the fuck we can find Vegas?”

  “Don’t know,” Carlos coughed out. They’d heard it too many times.

  Gunner looked up to one of the recruits. “Bring up a prisoner.”

  Carlos let out a pained laugh. “Kill them all, I don’t give a fuck.”

  Gunner shrugged. “You heard the man. Better bring them all.”

  Carlos held out through two of the executions—they were men he barely knew. When he saw Bernardo dragged into the warehouse, though, he broke down. Carlos was old friends with Bernardo’s father, and the thought of his best friend’s son dying through his inaction was too much.

  “Okay, okay. Stop. I’ll tell you where he is. Just stop killing these men. Let them go.”

  Gunner looked down at Carlos. His clothes were drenched in sweat and blood. He was a beaten man. “Where can we find Vegas?”

  “He’s holed up in some motel in Silverado Ranch, outside the strip. The Hideaway, ironically. I think he’s in room eight.” Carlos hung his head, defeated.

  Raven already had her phone out, charting the directions from East St. Louis Street to Silverado Ranch.

  Gunner spat on Carlos again. “Drag him and this one,” he pointed his gun at Bernardo, “back down to the cell. Lock them up. You know, in case this one gave us bad information.” Leaning down, Gunner lowered his voice. “If you did give us bad info, I’ll take all the time I need to find every one of your family members. Now, as that sets in, are you sure that’s where we should head looking for our old friend?”

  Carlos nodded, a tear mixing with the sweat on his face.

  “All right, boys. We ride.” Gunner grabbed Raven’s hand, pulling her toward him. “You’re not gonna like this, but it’s gotta be done. I need you to take Faith back to Bakersfield.”

  She opened her mouth to protest, but Gunner cut her off. “We’ve got wounded. I’m sending them all back, and I need you to take the point. If anything happens to us, it’s just a few more white trash bikers in the dirt. But you and Faith, my God, you two are angels for men like us.”

  “Gunner, I want to fight beside you.” Raven’s voice was higher than usual, and he knew she was fighting back tears.

  “It’s not your fight. End of story. You’ve got a long drive ahead of you.” Gunner met her eyes. He knew full well why she was tearing up. It wasn’t about keeping her from a fight, and it wasn’t about him ordering her around. They both knew that he might never return to California.

  Raven threw her arms around him. She couldn’t hold back the tears any longer, and she didn’t care who knew it. She cried into his shoulder as his strong arms squeezed her close. Gunner was the one fighting back his emotions. He wanted her forever, and he knew she would be in agony until he came back from Las Vegas, if he did at all. He held her tight, the world around them fading out of view.

  He whispered to her, “I love you.” He said it over and over again, knowing it would only make her cry that much harder. He turned away from the light of the doorway as a tear slid down his face.

  A few minutes went by, and Raven’s pain began to ease. She wiped her face and looked up at him. “You come home to me. There’s so much we haven’t done. Just promise me that you’ll come home.”

  Gunner held his biker girl’s face in his hands. She leaned against his rough skin, and he marveled at just how soft hers was. He shook his head and closed his eyes.

  “What are you thinking?” she asked, laying her hand over his.

  He opened his eyes. “I’m thinking that when we get back, we’re gonna have us a wedding.”

  She stared at him, no reaction on her face. He laughed, pulling her in for a hard kiss. His lips engulfed hers before tracing her jawline to her neck. When he pulled back, she still seemed stupefied. “Well, goddamn, is that a no?”

  “It’s… it’s…” She shook her head. “It’s…I’ll answer when you get back to Bakersfield.” She pulled his hand from her cheek. She gave it a kiss and then let it go.

  “Really? You’re going to play things like that?” Gunner couldn’t get angry with her, but he was thinking that they’d get caught up in the moment. He figured it was a damn romantic gesture, but he wasn’t going to let it get to him. “All right, fair enough. You answer me when I get back to Bakersfield.”

  She turned around. “Faith, let’s get the wounded ready to travel.”

  Bear’s wife and Trask’s mother, a powerful spirit on her own, made her way to Raven. Gunner turned away, pretending to occupy himself, but he wanted to overhear. He wanted to hear his woman’s voice as much as he could before she rode away. He was torn between the club and his own heart, something he’d never felt before.

  His heart had always fallen with the club in all decisions. If it was good for the club, it was good for him. Gunner knew as he stood there that what was best for the club could be the worst thing for him. Fuck. Let’s just get this shit over and done with.

  Trask and Gunner rode alone to Silverado Ranch. Raven watched them pull out from the destroyed warehouse on East St. Louis Street. Faith was tightening a few makeshift bandages on the bikers that had been wounded in the fight. Raven’s heart seized when her man twisted back on the thr
ottle. Gunner looked back once before they made a half left and were out of sight.

  She stood watching for a few minutes, even after the sounds of the motorcycle engines had faded to the west. She stared until Faith snapped her out of it with a hand on the shoulder. Raven jumped and let out a nervous laugh. “Sorry, I didn’t see you.”

  “I know what you see. You can only see one thing, and he just rode away on the back of a Harley.” Faith smiled. She knew exactly how it felt to see her man driving away without her. “He’ll be back. I’ve seen them drive away more times than I like to count, and I see the way Gunner looks at you. He’ll be back if he has to drag himself through the desert.”

  “How do you do it? How do you play the waiting game with that kind of resolve, Faith?” Raven felt like her knees would give out. She had no idea how she’d ride the four hours back to Bakersfield without Gunner beside her on the highway.

  Faith ran a finger down Raven’s cheek. “You learn, dear. You learn to play the game. I never knew if Bear would come back to me, but I learned to believe him when he told me that he would. I trusted in his ability, and I trusted in his brothers to keep him safe.”

  Raven shook her head. “But you didn’t go crazy?”

  “I almost did. I sat waiting for him for more than five years. Did you know that? I couldn’t even see him, because I knew the cops were watching me. I couldn’t even see Trask’s father through glass. Couldn’t even talk to him over the phone for five years.”

  Raven couldn’t even comprehend waiting that long for Gunner. She would go insane, but part of her knew she could do it. Part of her knew that their love would be just as strong after five years. She was starting to understand the grit and pain of true love.

  “How amazing was it when you saw him for the first time?”

  Faith smiled and looked off in the direction her son had ridden. “I’ll remember that moment for the rest of my life. It was better than anything I’ve ever felt.”

  Raven turned back to the empty road. She hoped that when Gunner returned, she’d feel that same incredible emotions.

  “Dear, I know you’re hurting, but let’s go home. I can’t imagine how tired you are.”

  Raven laughed, thankful for a distraction of any kind, “Me? Faith, you were kidnapped!”

  The older woman brushed it off. “It wasn’t so bad.”

  “God, you are as tough as everyone says.” Raven admired Faith more and more. “You mind riding behind me for a few hours?”

  Faith shook her head. “I think I’ll need to be up front. Some of the Sons can ride, but I don’t know if they’ll last four hours. Let’s try to make it to Barstow, then we’ll take a break and feed these boys.”

  Raven looked over the men once again. Aside from the three that had given the ultimate sacrifice, no one was seriously injured. She tried to comprehend what the club would look like. They had lost some charter members, some kids right off the street, and the founding member was still in a coma. There were fifteen new kids eager to join in Bakersfield and in Davis, but were they best for the club?

  Raven didn’t have the answer. “You’re right. Let’s get back to California.”

  As they rode, she wondered what the Rising Sons would look like going forward. Trask and Hope would head back to Davis so he could keep building the northern chapter of the club. In Bakersfield, Gunner would take over the presidency, at least until Bear woke up. If he wakes up, Raven corrected.

  She looked over at Faith, who was riding one of the new recruit’s bikes with an injured man on back. She’d never looked like a biker or even an ol’ lady to Raven, but now she had her hair tied back into quick pigtails and wore a black and gray skull bandana over her forehead. Raven thought the look suited her.

  Faith had a smile on her face, and Raven began to believe all the rumors about just how amazing the matriarch of the Rising Sons was.

  The miles clicked away, and Raven tried to focus on anything but what was happening in Paradise. She told herself over and over again that Gunner would come back, and maybe killing Vegas would give him the peace he needed. Trigger’s death was tearing Gunner up, and Raven didn’t know what she could do to help him. It was something he had to figure out himself.

  She hated to see him so tortured. He was strong enough to keep it together for the club, but she could see cracks forming. He was taking risks, not thinking through things. He was going to get himself killed. Maybe that’s what he wants. Raven shook the thought from her head the second it entered. He would never do something so stupid. Not after everything he had told her.

  She leaned into the wind, wishing the trip was through. The open road was normally a calming place, but there was no calming Raven at that moment. There was no calm until her man rode back into town unharmed. There was work to do back in Bakersfield, and maybe it would be enough to keep her distracted.

  They had called ahead to Hope, and she was setting up a makeshift clinic in Tanner’s garage. Jenny was helping her gather supplies and clean the place up. No one else was going to die, as long as Hope got to them. Stitches were needed, burns needed tending to, and there were a few broken fingers that required splinting.

  Raven took a deep breath, wanting nothing more than for the day to be over.

  Gunner’s guts twisted in rage and dread. He wanted Vegas dead. He knew Trask would feel the same way. They had both lost somebody they cared about because of that stupid kid. They were both cast into leadership roles because of him, too. Gunner knew there’d be head-butting between the two of them in the future, but they would manage to make it work. They had proven to the Rising Sons that the club was more important than ego.

  Now they rode together, just the two of them. Together they’d take out Vegas, restore the honor to their club, and begin the rebuilding process.

  As they drove, his heart ached for Raven. She had changed every part of him, and all for the better. He felt stronger, smarter, and better when she was around him. He could still lead, and he could still fire a gun, but he thought about other things. He thought about the lives of his men. When he’d decided that he and Trask should go alone, it wasn’t about ego. It was about all the women that the Rising Sons had left in California to come fight. They had already lost one, and if anyone else was going to die, it was going to be someone who had it coming.

  Gunner would do everything in his power to make sure he rode into the sunset, but he couldn’t make any promises to Raven. He wanted to. He wanted to promise her anything her heart desired, but the pain of leaving promises unfulfilled was too painful. Trask was one of the best fighters he knew, and they would protect each other. He had two girls waiting for his return. Gunner wondered what that would feel like. He began to think about a family.

  They parked a ways down from the motel in an alley. With the bikes leaning on their stands, both men checked their weapons without a word. Each had two handguns, and each had two full magazines of ammunition. Trask nodded to Gunner, and they turned to seek out room number eight.

  The streets were quiet, and Gunner could almost hear the Ennio Morricone soundtrack playing in the background. The echoing guitar, the powerful trumpets—if a tumbleweed made its way across Gunner and Trask’s path, it wouldn’t have surprised either man one bit.

  The motel was coming up, and Gunner’s heart raced. There was no controlling it, and there was no need to. It was beating hard for a reason. It was surging adrenaline through his body. It made his reactions quicker, his eyes wider, and his senses all more acute. Gunner loved the pounding of his heart. He smiled and cracked his knuckles.

  Walking up the driveway, the two men passed the front office. A fan ambled back and forth inside the door, but no one was present at that moment. They strolled past like they didn’t have a care in the world.

  Trask grabbed the railing and swung himself around the corner leading to the row of doors. Gunner followed, looking at the metal numbers on each door. It started at one, and he looked ahead, finding the eighth just across fro
m the gate to the pool.