Purge (Death Crusaders Motorcycle Club)

by Sandy Kline

  By Sandy Kline

  Copyright © 2014 Sandy Kline

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  Dedication

  Special thanks to my kids Ethan and Diego and my good friend Dan Mustaro

  Edited By

  Deborah Anne Larkin

  PURGE

  Death Crusaders MC

  Book Two

  CONTENTS

  Prologue – Modern Day OK Corral

  One – A Homecoming of Sorts

  Two - Home

  Three – My Sweet Dreams

  Four – My Harsh Reality

  Five – Secrets and Lies

  Six - Reunion

  Seven – Unexpected Company

  Eight - Awakening

  Nine - Meetings

  Ten – “My Name is Officer Shaw!”

  Eleven - Consequences

  Twelve – Witness to What

  Thirteen – And My Final Answer Is

  Fourteen – Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride

  Fifteen - Endgame

  Prologue

  A Modern Day OK Corral

  The press called it a Modern Day OK Corral and when it was over twenty-seven bikers from three clubs and eleven law enforcement officials lay dead in the blood red streets.

  Sixty-three members from the Death Crusaders, the Sleazebags, and the Devil’s Advocates were given steep sentences and all three clubs were thought to be disbanded. Another seventeen cops were handed down varying sentences for taking bribes, obstruction of justice, collusion, and other related charges. It was a dark day for outlaw bikers and an even darker day for law enforcement.

  The new Mayor and the New Police Commissioner took back their town and declared it a biker free zone after seizing a grand total of seventy-nine properties belonging to known bikers from all three clubs.

  “You ride through our town wearing a cut and you go to jail!” The Mayor was overheard saying and no one has yet dared to challenge him.

  The atmosphere for bikers became so venomous that even the legitimate motorcycle clubs uprooted in search of more favorable climates. Of the four motorcycle sales shops in Whispering Pines three of them closed shop while a third converted to scooters and four wheeled off road vehicles only.

  Chapter One

  A Homecoming of Sorts

  For whatever reason my chauffer has chosen to drive me back rather than rely on air transportation but that’s okay. Some of the drive is very beautiful and when you’re sitting in the back of an air conditioned tricked out Land Rover the hours pass pleasantly. It’s a far cry above the hot sweaty buss that took some 18 hours to get to Belize City.

  The only aspect of the trip that’s been difficult is the wondering. I have not heard from or spoken to Blade or my best friend Alex in two years. I assume that she is now a Whispering Pines police officer and she probably thinks I must have been killed by the club. Ours will be a glorious reunion. The most difficult part about my self- imposed exile has been not talking to or otherwise contacting her. I am sure she’ll probably be pissed at first, but in the end she’ll understand why I had to run. I would have either ended up dead or in prison. Too many people wanted me dead so I’m almost certain that would have been the end result had I not fled. I am actually surprised that no one caught up to me before I left the country. Maybe that was Blade’s doing and maybe Alex had a hand in that as well. I do hope Blade told her what happened and that I’m alive but I get the feeling that that’s not something he would have done.

  I can’t wait to see Blade, the man who gave up everything to make sure I survived. I can’t wait to hear the story of how he managed to take control of the club though. That must have been a wild ride indeed. The more I sit here in the back of the Land Rover and daydream about him the lonelier I feel. I’ll be glad to give up my spinster mantel and use some long neglected muscles. At first the loss of him was just too painful to even think about romantic entanglements. After the pain had worn thin I was just too busy moving about to establish anything beyond fair-weather friendships. When you have to move forty times a year it’s hard to get close to anyone.

  It wasn’t until I’d arrived in Belize that I finally settled down and made a few friends. It’s actually been easy to get to know people here. Everyone speaks English along with Creole and some other language known only to Belizeans. Still I found it impossible to have close friends. When you get to really know someone you want to share your life with them and that’s something I could not afford to do if I wanted to stay alive; even in Belize a country I am told has no extradition treaty with the US. There are also a number of US citizens on the tiny caye and that really surprised me at first. But after living there for a while I began to understand the attraction. The weather’s never bad, everyone is friendly and the lifestyle here is totally relaxed and you don’t even need to smoke a joint to experience the laid back lifestyle here. I fell in love with Caye Caulker and I hope to return one day. But even more than I love the tiny caye in Belize, I love my friend Alex and dare I admit I still love Blade. I just hope it’s not the idea of him that I love and not the man himself because I am dropping everything to return to him.

  “Ms. Clarkson, we’ll be passing through Whispering Pines in twenty minutes.”

  Well that’s news to me. I thought we were returning to Whispering Pines not passing through.

  “Where are we going Mr. Simmons?”

  “Our destination is Gold Hill Ms. Clarkson.”

  “And why are we going there?”

  “Because that is where Blade lives.”

  Well that makes sense.

  “Is it close?”

  “About a hundred miles separates the two towns. Gold Hill is about half the size of Whispering Pines.”

  “Then why are we passing through Whispering Pines?”

  “There’s something I want to show you.”

  “What is it?” I ask.

  “You’ll see. We’re almost there.”

  The first thing I see upon entering Whispering Pines is a giant sign depicting a biker wearing a cut and riding a Harley. Painted on top of the biker and his motorcycle is the universal no sign; the red circle with the line slashing through it. That is bizarre! How can they make riding motorcycles illegal here? Someone must have just put it up there as a joke or a slam on bikers but it can’t really be enforced.

  As we head into the main portion of town I get this strong feeling of unease. Something is really wrong here. I start to ask my driver about it but I decide to just sit, observe, and think for now. About ten minutes later it hits me. I have been in Whispering Pines for twenty minutes now and I have not seen a single motorcycle; not one! That sign is working. They really have kicked out all the bikers. On the other hand I have seen cops. They’re everywhere. This looks and feels like a town under martial law, if such a thing is even possible in this day and age. This is truly bewildering. When we get to the middle of town, the town square so to speak I get my next whoa feeling. I see three new businesses where there used to be a motorcycle shop, a muffler place, and a diner. I remember them well because I spent a lot of time here sitting at the Starbucks across the street. That at least is still there. As we get closer I begin to see the problem. Below each new business signage is a small billboard. The one that used to be a muffler shop says the following.

  “Premises formerly owned by member(s) of an Outlaw Motorcycle Gang.”

  The same signage is posted on the other two new businesses. Now I have to ask. I can’t contain my bewilderment.

  “What’s up with the little signs on the new businesses?” I ask.

  “
Very observant Ms. Clarkson. Every business or home that was owned by a member of one of the three clubs displays that sign so the townsfolk don’t forget what happens to anyone belonging to an outlaw biker gang. The Feds swept through here and seized almost eighty properties. Some were clearly owned by club members and others by sympathizers.”

  “Holy crap, this is like Nazi Germany and bikers are the Jews. How could this happen?”

  I am almost too stunned for words. It’s like the plague, a human form of the plague swept through here after I left. I am glad I wasn’t here to see this. I begin to wonder how much of a welcome I’m going to receive here. I have to trust that Blade wouldn’t have sent for me if it wasn’t safe.

  “If you really want to know what happened you’ll have to ask Blade.”

  “I will. The Death Crusaders, they’re still active right?”

  “Yes ma’am. I am the club’s Sargent at Arms.” He says proudly.

  “What’s your club name?”

  “Piper.”

  “So nice to meet you Piper.” I reply with feeling. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you driving me back. I’m just saddened it wasn’t on the back of a Harley.”

  “Me to ma’am, me too.”

  “Why’d we go through town anyway?” I ask. “Surely there are roads that go around this eyesore.”

  “I need to show you something.” He replies.

  The tone of his voice crawls under my skin and stays there for the rest of the ride. I get this ugly feeling deep inside. I just can’t quite put my finger on it though. I don’t know what he wants to show me. I think I’ve seen enough ugliness. It’s the Compound. He wants to show me the Compound. Oh my god, that whole place must have been taken away by the Feds. What a disaster that must have been for Blade and the others. Good thing his father wasn’t alive to see this though.

  But we don’t go there either. Abruptly thoughts of my own house come to mind unbidden. I bet my house was seized since I’m sure they viewed me as a criminal. That’s going to hurt. I really hope that’s not what he’s going to show me. The closer we get to my street the more anxious I get. Now I’m convinced that’s where we’re going.

  When we pass my street and head for the outskirts of town I am even more confused. When he makes a mysterious call on his cell phone I’m beginning to freak. What is going on here?

  “We’re five minutes out Sir.” He says into the phone.

  I can’t tell from his one sided conversation what’s going on but I guess I’ve got about four more minutes to wait. When I do realize where we’re headed a dark cold feeling grips my heart. He’s going to show me cemetery where all the members are buried. That’s it. Blade is meeting us here and he’s going to show me what they’ve done to his club. Then it hits me. I remember the last night I was with Blade. He had just discovered his grandmother dead. Now it all makes sense.

  “Hey Piper, this is where Blades grandmother is buried isn’t it?”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  Damn…I wonder if this is the first time he’s come back to visit her. Maybe he wants me here for moral support. We pull into the parking lot. It’s empty. Piper opens the door for me.

  “Right this way miss.” He says, taking the lead.

  We wind through the headstones in silence. This is a very old cemetery. Judging by the condition of some of the graves they must be over two hundred years old or more. We move farther into the cemetery and up over a small rise to a much newer area. Kneeling in front of a fairly new headstone is a lone figure in black. I can feel my heart quicken at the sight of Blade for the first time in my two years of exile. I can’t wait to feel his arms around me. But that can wait. Right now I have to support my lover in his loss.

  As we walk up Piper hangs back. I get about ten feet from the headstone when I notice something odd. It’s pretty large and has a badge engraved in the granite. How could he…Oh my god, Mark is buried here. That explains the badge. But it doesn’t explain Blades behavior. I didn’t think the two were that close. I walk up behind him, reading the headstone under my breath.

  “Here lies Alexandra Mor…gan. Wait a second. What the fuck?”

  My whole world turns upside down and a black icy chill reaches in and strangles my heart. Every fiber of my being screams in agony. My mind reels in shock and confusion. This has to be a different Alex Morgan. My best friend in the whole world cannot be lying here dead.

  “Nooooooo!” The sound is ripped from my dead soul. “Noooo!” I scream again.

  Over and over until my voice scratches and my vocal chords refuse to make another sound. I’m vaguely aware of a pair of arms around me and we’re both lying in the grass on my best friend’s grave. I turn my anger outward against the only person left I care about.

  “You fucking animal!” I scream, finding my voice again. “You fucking animal. I hate you! I hate you!” I shriek over and over again until my vocal chords really are too shredded to make any more sound.

  My throat aches and what’s left of my heart hammers painfully in my chest. It’s a cruel world where I can feel this much pain in my heart and it continues to mock me by beating life into me. At this very moment, if I had a gun I would turn it on myself to end the pain between my ears. I kick my legs and push against Blade until he disentangles himself from me and scoots out of reach.

  “I’m sorry.” He finally says.

  “Keep your useless apology to yourself.” I croak with effort. “You haven’t earned the right to apologize to me yet.”

  I don’t know how long I remain in a fetal position weeping, but when I finally uncurl myself and stretch my cramping limbs my eyes have dried up and I feel like a hallowed out empty shell void of feelings. When I finally look up I see Blade watching me with compassion in his eyes.

  “Would you like to know how she died?” He asks me.

  “I do, but I’m not sure I’m ready to hear it.”

  “She died a hero doing what she loved Jen. When you’re ready to hear it I’ll introduce you to the person she died saving. I think it will give you some strength and closure.”

  I nod. “Perhaps you’re right Blade, but right now…right now I just want to go. Get me out of here please.”

  Blade helps me to my feet. I accept his outstretched hand and stand. I look at Alex’s headstone one more time.

  ‘Here lies Officer Alexandra Morgan HERO. End of watch, 12:34 a.m. September 9th 2014. She made the world a better place.’

  I feel Blade take my hand, linking his fingers in mine. Normally this small gesture would have given me great comfort but today I feel nothing and I wonder if I ever will again or if I can even afford too. If I had only stayed at Caye Caulker I could have just gone on with my life believing she was living her dream and Blade was living his as the leader of the Crusaders. Instead I come back to find the town I grew up in no longer exists. It’s become a police state where certain individuals have no basic human rights. The Crusaders have been run out of town, my house is most likely gone and my best friend in the world has been reduced to a painful memory. I have no job and nowhere to go but with Blade and I’m not even sure I want to do that anymore.

  This happy reunion I have been waiting two years to have just got swallowed up in grief. I wonder if my driver would be willing to just turn around and take me back to Belize. I stop in my tracks.

  “I want to go back Blade. I want to return to Belize. There’s nothing here for me anymore.”

  “What?”

  “Come with me.” I plead. It’s paradise.”

  “A place without my club will never be paradise; it won’t even be home.”

  Blade raises his hand in the air and twirls his finger around in a circular motion. Seconds later Piper and two other guys appear at our sides.

  “Let’s go.” He says to them.

  “Where are we going?” I ask him.

  “Gold Hill. It’s the only friendly place a man can go if he’s straddling a Harley. It’s also the new location for the Death Cru
sader’s.”

  I’m far too grief-stricken and tired to protest so I just allow myself to be led back to the Land Rover. There’s another SUV next to it. Piper drives again and Blade gets in next to me. The others take the second SUV. The ride to Gold Hill takes about an hour. I have to admit, it’s a beautiful town. It’s a lot like Whispering Pines, just smaller by about half. On The way to Gold Hill I decide to ask if Piper knows how my friend died. He has no reason to lie to me so maybe he’ll be honest where Blade may say what sounds good to take the sting out of my mourning.

  “Can I ask you something Piper?”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  “Do you know who my best friend is…was?”

  “I knew who she was but I didn’t really know her.” He replies.

  Now for the sixty-four thousand dollar question. “Do you know the circumstances around her death?”

  “I only know she died saving another’s life and that the Whispering Pines PD considers her a hero.”

  “I see.”

  “But you should ask the guy next to you. The person who really knows the whole story is her former patrol partner. They were very good friends.”

  “Thanks Piper.”

  “Anytime ma’am.”

  “Piper we’ve just spent five days together in this box. I think can be on a first name basis.”

  “Yes ma’a- uh, sure thing Jen.”

  I wonder who her patrol partner was. If I find out it was Mark I’m going to strangle myself. I wonder if he is still around or if he got outted as an outlaw biker and thrown in jail where he belongs in the first place.

  “Hey uh Piper, can we stop somewhere that I can pick up a burner phone?”

  “No need. There are three or four in here.”

  “Don’t they already belong to someone? I don’t want to be getting someone else’s calls in the middle of the night.”

  For an answer he opens the glove box, fishes around and pulls out a phone that’s still in the packaging. He tosses it back to me.