by Zoey Parker
“I'll bet you never even asked to talk to anyone from the cartel directly, did you?” Cain jeered. “No, Gaspar said it and that was enough for you, right? Man, he played you for a sucker, big-time.” He looked at the deputies, who were shifting uncomfortably and shooting worried looks at Hemmick. “All of you.”
“Shut your mouths,” Gaspar hissed, “or we'll mow you all down right fucking here.”
Condell lowered his gun, turning to Hemmick. “Hey, uh...this shit ain't true, right, Sheriff? You did talk to someone from the cartel about this deal, right? You didn't just hear it from him?”
“Yeah, I mean, what we agreed to do here...this stuff's enough to get all of us put away for a long fuckin' time if we got caught,” another deputy added. “I wouldn't have said yes to any of this if I didn't think the million you promised us was guaranteed.”
“You'll all get your money!” Gaspar insisted. “Just stay calm and stick to the plan.”
Hemmick's teeth were clenched so tightly that the muscles in his jaw were twitching. Slowly, the muzzle of his shotgun drifted from Hunter to Gaspar.
“Call them,” Hemmick said.
Gaspar raised his eyebrows. “Excuse me? Call who, exactly?”
“The cartel. Eduardo Barros is the big shot down there, right? So get him on the phone, or one of his sons, or whoever you answer to. Dial the number while I watch, and then put me on with them so I can confirm that they know about our deal and are prepared to pay us. You do that right now, and then we can go right back to the plan.”
Gaspar glared at Hemmick. After a long moment, he said, “Whether the cartel knew about this or not is irrelevant.”
“Fuck, I knew it!” Condell whined.
“I have money,” Gaspar continued urgently. “I can pay you myself.”
“Yeah?” Hemmick asked. “You've got eight million dollars? Great. Show me.”
“I have access to a little over half a million,” Gaspar said. “I can get that for you when we're finished here, and once we begin to sell our product in Micanaw, there will be more, lots more...”
“Smells like bullshit to me,” Cain commented mildly.
“Be quiet, fool!” Gaspar snapped.
“No,” Hemmick sighed. “When you come right down to it, I reckon I'm the fool this time around. Get down on your knees, Gaspar, and put your fucking hands on top of your head, and make sure all your men do likewise. Just because we're going to beat the hell out of you and claim you resisted arrest doesn't mean you actually have to do it.”
“That's not going to happen,” Gaspar snickered. Suddenly, his hands were a blur of movement as he whipped the pistols out of their holsters and hit the deck, firing.
Hemmick pulled the trigger of his shotgun, but the shot went wild as two of Gaspar's bullets hit him in the face—one in the left eye and the other just under his nose. He reeled backward, his remaining eye filled with surprise. He was dead before he hit the ground.
Gaspar's men all began to fire their machine guns, spraying bullets at the Eagles and the deputies. The bikers returned fire, trying to aim carefully as they took up positions behind their bikes and the van. The deputies took cover behind their cars and fired off their shotguns a few times, but one of them had his chest peppered by machine gun fire and went down squealing, the front of his uniform a mass of blood.
Condell and the other deputy looked at their fallen comrades, looked at each other, and ran away as fast as they could, leaving their parked patrol cars behind. Bullets hit the spinning blue lights on the tops of the cars, darkening them.
Missy crouched behind the van next to Cain, Hunter, and a few of the other Eagles. She risked a look over the hood of the van and saw that Christina and Pauline were still alive, their chairs in front of the door to room 20. Their eyes were filled with terror. They were a short distance from Gaspar's men, but Missy was still concerned that one of the bikers might accidentally hit them while returning fire.
Cain saw what Missy was looking at and grabbed her arm, shaking his head. “No! Leave them!”
“Fuck that!” Missy yelled over the thunder of the guns. “Those two don't deserve to die in the crossfire. I'm going to get them out of the way.”
“Cain's right,” Hunter said. “You can't just run out there an' grab 'em. It’s too fuckin' dangerous!”
“I can do it,” Missy insisted, “but I need your help. Those guys all started firing at once, and they're not staggering their bursts. That means at least some of them will have to reload in a few seconds. Once they do, I'll come around the side while you distract them by pouring on the heat until I've secured Christina and Pauline.”
“Fine,” Cain said, “but once you get them to safety, you duck around that corner and you stay the fuck out of the action, understand?”
Missy opened her mouth to argue until she saw the terror in Cain's eyes. She knew he'd do anything to make sure she wasn't hurt, especially now that he was living in the reality of watching bullets flying toward her.
So I'd better tell him what he needs to hear, Missy thought, before the reload moment comes and goes and I lose my chance.
“Yeah,” Missy said, nodding. “I will. I promise.”
“Okay,” Cain said. “Ready...and...”
The sounds of machine gun fire suddenly decreased by two-thirds, and Missy heard the rasp and click of empty magazines being discarded in favor of full ones.
“Now!” Missy called out, running around the side of the van.
Cain, Hunter, and the others broke cover, firing volley after volley at Gaspar's men. The cartel enforcers ducked and dodged in all directions, and Spider Webs took a shotgun shell to the throat, staggering backward against the motel's outer wall and sliding down to the ground.
Hector returned fire and bullet holes blossomed up Matches' arm and across his chest. He dropped his gun and screamed, just before a second burst from Hector shattered his face, silencing him.
Missy ran in a wide arc to avoid the notice of Gaspar's men, staying low to the ground. Just as she reached Christina and Pauline, a bullet ricocheted off the motel and hit Pauline's shoulder. Even with the gunshots filling the air, Missy could hear both of them shrieking behind their gags.
Missy grabbed the chairs, dragging them around to the side of the motel. As she did, one of the cartel enforcers noticed her and raised his machine gun in her direction. Before he could fire at her, she aimed her revolver and pulled the trigger, hitting him in the forehead. His hand went to his head, and he peered at it for a second, inspecting the blood on his fingertips with a bemused expression before pitching forward onto the ground.
Once Missy had pulled the chairs a safe distance around the motel, she used her knife to cut the women’s bonds, then sheathed it again, yanking the tape from their mouths. They were both pale and trembling, and it looked like Pauline might go into shock.
“I need you both to run across the field behind the motel as fast as you fucking can,” she told them.
“Missy, I'm so sorry,” Christina breathed, her eyes glassy. “I didn't want to...”
Missy grabbed Christina's shoulders, shaking her. “No time for that now. Your mother needs medical attention. Go.”
Christina nodded and took her mother's hand, leading her across the field quickly.
The sounds of gunfire were beginning to dissipate, and Missy pressed her back against the motel, glancing around the corner.
It looked like Gaspar's enforcers had gained the upper hand. They had managed to kill Burger and five other Eagles, and with a sickening jolt of panic, Missy saw that Hunter had two bullet holes in his shoulder. The side of Keith's face was streaked with blood, and when he tilted his head, she saw that his right ear had been shot off.
With so many Eagles picked off, the cartel men flanked them easily, surrounding them. Missy saw Cain raise his gun anyway, along with several other bikers—but Hunter raised a hand to stop them, shaking his head.
“Smart,” Gaspar said, holstering his guns and bru
shing the dirt from his coat. “There's no need for you to lose the few men you have left. Not when there might still be a chance to make a deal.”
The enforcers marched the surviving Eagles forward, forming a circle around them and stripping them of their weapons.
“A deal, huh?” Hunter asked. He turned his head and spat on the ground, his eyes blazing. “Like how you made a deal with Ham-Hock over there? Worked out pretty well for him, didn't it?”
Gaspar chuckled, then motioned to Hector. “Where is the girl? Why isn't she with them?”
Hector looked around, confused, and then noticed the empty space in front of room 20. “She must've looped around an' rescued those two bitches while these dickheads were layin' down covering fire.”
Gaspar nodded at Hunter appreciatively. “Very good. She's quite smart, isn't she, this sister of yours? Clearly, she got both the looks and the brains in your family.” He turned to another enforcer who had teardrop tattoos under his eye and a scar twisting his upper lip. “Jorge, find her. She's probably not much of a threat without these biker cretins to back her up, but she could still be used to persuade them, if it comes to that.”
Jorge nodded, jogging around to the far side of the motel.
Good, Missy thought. It'll take him a few minutes to make it around to me. I can use that to try to figure out what to do.
But so far, she couldn't think of anything.
Chapter 40
Missy
“Okay, Gaspar, you win,” Hunter said. “You trapped us. You killed a bunch of us. You've got us right where you want us. Just tell me what it'll take for you to let the rest of my guys go. You want the town? Fuck it, it's yours. We'll clear out an' let you have it, as long as this ends now.”
Missy heard the fear and shame in Hunter's voice. She knew that he was disgusted by the idea of bowing down for a shitstain like Gaspar, but she also knew that even if the rest of the Eagles made it out of this alive, Hunter would never be able to forgive himself for the men he lost tonight. Backing down to a man who'd already gotten away with murdering so many of his brothers in arms was bad enough, but being responsible for the absolute extinction of the club would be even worse.
Besides, it'd be straight-up suicide to keep fighting back now that we're so fucked, Missy thought. So what other choice does he have?
“I'm afraid it's not quite so simple anymore,” Gaspar answered. “Yes, I could just accept your surrender now and let it go at that, I suppose. Allow you to run off into the night while I celebrate my victory. But how could I be certain that you'd stay gone, hmm? You are extremely proud men, after all, are you not? Surely you wouldn't content yourselves with such an outcome, once you'd escaped immediate danger. Surely you would rebuild your precious club with more drifters and thugs, and come back seeking revenge. Such things are hardwired within you, yes? 'Death Before Dishonor,' and all that.”
“We ain't gonna seek no revenge,” Hunter assured him. “Like I said, you won. Period. We learned our lesson about messin' with you cartel guys, an' we're not gonna do it again. We just want a chance to get back on our bikes an' go find a new place to be. That's all. You want me to swear to it, one outlaw to another? Fuck it, I'll swear an oath right now.”
“I wipe my ass on your oaths and promises,” Gaspar spat. “When you sneak through my window in a year or two with a dagger in your teeth, what will I say then? 'No, wait, you can't, you promised?' Please. You've clearly mistaken me for a stupid man.”
“Then what, goddamn it?” Hunter yelled. “What do you want? You coulda wiped us out already, but you didn't, so what? You want me, huh? You wanna kill me, just to make your big fuckin' point? Fine, do it! Grab a knife an' go to town, man! Just get it over with an' let my guys go!”
Missy's hand went to her mouth in terror. The thought of Hunter giving himself up to the whims of this animal made her blood turn to ice in her veins.
Gaspar sneered. “I don't want you dead. As you say, I could have had that already, if it was what I wanted. No, I want you broken. You and every other biker in this country who might even think of challenging me. I want you so humiliated and ruined that you could never even look another outlaw in the face ever again. I want the entire world to know that you are not real men anymore, just a pack of whipped, pathetic bitches. Then, and only then, will I be safe from you and your kind.”
“And just how the fuck do you expect that to happen?” Cain asked.
“I'm very glad that you asked,” Gaspar replied, his eyes glowing with dark amusement. “As I mentioned before, Pauline has been...shall we say, 'entertaining' me and some of my men while we've been staying here. But unfortunately, it seems as though she's no longer available.”
Missy listened from around the corner, not liking the sound of this one bit.
“So it seems to me,” Gaspar continued mildly, “that the most obvious solution to this problem is to have one of your Eagles take her place.”
“What the fuck did you just say?” Hunter growled in disbelief.
“Ah, it appears as though I have been obtuse,” Gaspar said. “Forgive me. I shall clarify. You will choose one of your Eagles to replace dear Pauline. That man will be held down by several of my men while I use a chisel to break the teeth out of his mouth, since gums tend to slide much more easily. Then you will watch us take turns fucking every hole in his body until we become bored with him. Then—and only then—will you and your men be permitted to leave in peace, along with the biker we've made a whore of.”
Missy watched as Hunter shook his head slowly, unable to process what he'd just heard. “What's...what the...why the fuck would you do that?”
“To make, as you say, my 'big fucking point,'” laughed Gaspar. “It's quite easy for gutter trash like you to join your little clubs and pull your little scores, thinking that the worst that can happen to you is injury or death. But when you and your people see that the consequences can be so much worse, you will understand how foolish it is to ever dare to oppose men like me. Do you think anyone will join your ridiculous MC again once word gets out that in defeat, you hand over your own men to be used as fuck-dolls for your enemies? Do you think any of your own people will continue to stand by your side after seeing such a thing happen to one of their number? I think not.”
“That ain't happenin',” Hunter said. “No. Fuck you. We'll go an' you can have the town, but if you think I'd ever make a choice like that you're outta your goddamn mind.”
Gaspar shrugged. “Very well. You seem to be confused about our respective positions, so I shall do what I can to help you understand.” He looked over the Eagles for a moment, then pointed to Keith. “Hector. That one. Bring him.”
Hector stepped forward and grabbed Keith, dragging him in front of Gaspar.
Before Missy could see any more, she heard a sound around the corner behind her and realized that she should move before she was discovered. She ran to the door of the nearest motel room and hid inside the tub in the bathroom as Death stalked her.
Death, in the form of Jorge, closing in. Preparing to corner her savagely and pistol-whip her into unconsciousness.
Chapter 41
Cain
Gaspar walked a slow circle around Keith, sizing him up. For his part, Keith merely stared straight ahead, his eyes filled with hatred and defiance. Cain admired him for being so stoic.
“So, you are...Keith, yes?” Gaspar asked pleasantly, checking Keith's name tag. “I am told you are the one who tormented poor Nostril into confessing that he worked for me. I knew he would do this, of course, just as I knew the fear and confusion this information would cause within your club. Still, you are a torturer of men, are you not? You revel in their agony?”
“I do what I gotta do, shitheel,” Keith snapped.
“Oh, certainly,” Gaspar continued, “but surely you cannot deny the part of you that enjoys handcuffing a man to a metal frame and running electricity through him? Or shooting him and then brutalizing the open wound, as I’m told you are fond o
f? There is a kind of savage poetry to such actions, a beauty that few men get the chance to fully appreciate. Each man's face twists into a unique shape when he is tortured to his breaking point, just as each woman's face is unique in how it reflects her orgasm. The look in their eyes, the sounds torn from their throats...these are special secrets, only to be unlocked by a lucky few.
“The cartel has afforded me many opportunities to indulge in such things. And now I can share them with you, one professional to another.”
Gaspar's left hand moved in a blur of speed again as he drew one of his pistols, firing a bullet directly into one of Keith's kneecaps. Keith howled in pain, falling to the ground.