Prince: Devil's Fighters MC

by Kathryn Thomas

  Jim waved at the door guard as they entered, and the man with long black hair pulled into a loose braid and a suit nodded solemnly. They didn’t stop as they strode past lines of bright, blinking, chiming machines, and Jim thanked the powers that be for the smoking policies as he lit another cigarette. They went straight to the back, where the beautiful Creek Walker ran the bar. He smiled at her, feeling out of character in her company; her skin was flawless, her shining black hair twisted up.

  “Wade! I haven’t seen you in a while.” Her eyes twinkled. She’d been there when Ari was carried out by two large guards and the rest of them were forced to follow. “How have things been?”

  “Well, business is booming, and we’re on the edge of a killing. But I need to talk to Bullseye about some things. Is he around?” He raised the bottle of Bud she passed to him and tossed a ten her way.

  “I’m not so sure he wants to see you, Wade.” She winked at Boxer. “You, though, can stay as long as you like.”

  Boxer blushed, and Jim rolled his eyes. “Come on, Creek. Tell him what time to pick you up tonight, and get me Bullseye.”

  She laughed, deep and seductive, and looked Boxer up and down. “Well, big man, if you want, you can come get me at about eight, and I’ll keep you company while Bullseye goes on the rampage for my betrayal.”

  Boxer smiled sheepishly. “I just might do that.”

  Creek sighed happily. “Alright, Wade, follow me. You, too, Boxer.” She came around the bar and led them through a door labeled ‘Employees Only’. They walked down a dimly lit hall toward an office at the end. The door was closed, and Creek knocked lightly. “Visitors, Chief.”

  A grunt came from inside, and Creek backed away. “Good luck, boys. And I’ll see you tonight, Boxer,” she added, smacking his ass as she walked away.

  Jim turned the doorknob while Boxer stared after her. “Don’t mention her sweet ass, okay?” he whispered and pushed the door open. He immediately made eye contact with Bullseye, who sat behind a large oak desk with his blue-black hair spread around his shoulders. “Hello, Chief.”

  “Jim Wade and Phineas Tyler. What brings the two of you to my office?” His tone was gentle and curious. He didn’t move.

  Boxer remained standing, gritting his teeth at the sound of his real name, but Jim took a seat with a friendly grin. “I wanted to talk business with you for a minute, without the alcohol and attitude you encountered the last time we met.”

  He grunted again. “Your chief has anger management issues, my friend. I appreciate your consideration in leaving him in his cage.”

  Boxer snorted, and Jim shook his head. If only we had a cage for him. “You deserve the respect.” He sat back and made himself comfortable. This wouldn’t be a thirty-second discussion. “We’ve managed to buy into some better business. We’ll be getting a bigger infusion of cash, in smaller bills, and you can’t tell the difference between these and government-issued cash.”

  “I see.” Chief Bullseye was a man of few words, until he knew exactly what was being discussed. Jim didn’t mind—it made his job easier.

  “The problem is, our printer who has the stamps is in enemy territory, and our rivals are not very happy with our extension of business into their area. They’re a threat to our club and our business, which also poses a threat to your flow of income. I thought we could work out a few details that would keep all of our investments safe.”

  The chief nodded, a sign to go on. “I’d like to offer you a raise,” Jim said. “Right now, your take is five percent of about $200,000 a month. I’d like to make that $500,000 a month and increase your take to eight percent.”

  Bullseye pressed his hands together in a steeple in front of his face. “That is quite a large increase, my friend. Our public monthly income can more than compensate the amount. But it would be a big risk.”

  “It would,” Jim agreed. “It would be a bigger risk if the Diablos decided to come after our business associates to try to put a stop to our profits.”

  “You ask for more than laundering.”

  “We need weapons,” Jim admitted. “The Diablos Blancos are going to try to hit us on home turf, and we don’t have the men or the guns to hold them off until we can get better equipped. I’ll double your take for the first month, if we can make use of a few of your men and some firearms.”

  The chief grew silent, and for a minute, Jim thought he could hear all three heartbeats in the room. “This is a precarious situation you put me in, Jim Wade. We don’t like getting involved with the white man’s personal business. Money is one thing. War is another. But you make a point about protecting our business. It is also difficult to deny the benefits of the additional income you offer.”

  At least he hadn’t shut Jim down right off the bat. Jim waited while Bullseye stared at some distant spot behind Boxer’s shoulder. This would make a huge difference in their ability to face the Diablos and not take too big a hit. After thinking for a long time, the chief met his gaze with his black marble eyes.

  “Jim Wade, I will accept your business prospect. And in order to assure my people are safe and the business you bring are not compromised, I will send eight of my men with weapons to your clubhouse tonight. They will stay until these personal issues are resolved, but no longer than one week. They have families, and I do not wish for them to be gone long.”

  A wave of relief washed over Jim. It was no guarantee that someone wouldn’t die, but he knew Bullseye would only send men who were excellent shots, more snipers than soldiers. “I’m grateful for your assistance.” Jim stood and offered the chief a bow of respect and thanks, and he saw Boxer’s shadow move as he did the same. “I’ll make sure your men are as safe as possible, and we’ll keep them fed and well cared for until their return.”

  He turned to leave the room. “Jim Wade?” Bullseye called. Jim stopped with his hand on the doorknob and turned in question. “Do not drag innocent people into your war. But take care of yourself and those who keep you balanced.”

  The words hit him in the chest with the force of a bullet, and Jim inhaled sharply. “Yes, sir.” He hurried out of the office, uncomfortable with the chief’s insight.

  “What was that about?” Boxer asked, having to rush to keep up with Jim, even with his long stride.

  “I don’t know,” Jim answered. His voice was sharp, his mood dark. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “Ari’s going to have something to say about this.” Boxer reached into his pocket as they burst back into the daylight and pulled out a hunk of chew. “I’m assuming you didn’t clear this with him.”

  Jim used the end of his lit cigarette to fire up another. “He didn’t exactly clear offering us up as sacrifices with the rest of the club, either. If he’s so damned determined to take the Diablos out, he can deal with the cost involved. It’s pennies in the bucket, compared to what we’ll bring in.”

  They made it to the bikes, and Jim mounted his, with Boxer standing beside him with a confused expression. “The printer doesn’t have all the stamps.”

  “No, he doesn’t. He’s got a couple of them.” Jim had known from the start that they were going about this all wrong. “He’s got to have an overseas contact. We find out who that is and cut out the middleman, we’ll make more and curb this thing with the Devils.”

  Boxer finally climbed onto his machine. “And how are we going to do that?”

  Jim wasn’t sure yet. “I’ll find a way.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  Refusing to go back to the casino, Jim sent Digger with Boxer to get Creek. It was already getting dark, and it was time to start taking the necessary precautions. He wasn’t letting anyone ride alone until things settled down. He entered the clubhouse and found Tipper sitting at the bar looking green. “What’s going on, Tipper?”

  Tipper shook his head. “Man, it’s not good.” He tilted back a shot of something that smelled like rubbing alcohol, which made him appear as though he was going to projectile vomit at any moment. With a na
sty burp, he said, “Right after the meeting, Ari took Weasel and Kentucky down to Salem. They took one of your company trucks. Ari was hell bent on grabbing the cash before the Diablos decided to burn the shop to the ground.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me!” And people had the nerve to call Jim reckless. “Have you heard from them?”

  “Nope,” Tipper hiccupped. “If things worked out, they should be back within the hour. I tried to call you, but all I got was voicemail.”

  Jim cursed. “I was on the reservation part of the time. I don’t get service there.” How many calls had he missed from how many people? He wondered if Susan had called and was glad he hadn’t been able to answer. He needed her as far away from him as she could get at the moment. If she wasn’t facing the loss of her father, he’d make sure she got out of town before this turned into Tombstone and the OK Corral.

  “Well, it’s too late to do anything now,” Tipper told him. “We tried to stop him. Digger and Donnie and even Meeks stood with me. Ari and Donnie almost got into it, and Ari threatened to pull a gun on the old boy. He’s in the bunk room, beating himself up for not taking Ari to the ground right then.”

  What the hell was going on with Ari? Maybe he really did have a death wish, and he didn’t care who he took with him when he went down. “I hope he’s in a fighting mood when they get back.”

  “I’m sure he will be. Especially when he hears about the deals you’ve been making today.” Tipper chuckled, and Jim raised an eyebrow at him. How did he know already? “Oh, come on, Wade. I’m the smartest guy here, no offense. I knew what you were going to do. I would have done it myself, if I thought you weren’t going to. But it’s going to be more than a thorn in Ari’s side.”

  “Good. I want the bull’s horns today.” Jim stormed outside and let the cool breeze blow into his face. He hated getting this worked up. His blood pressure was through the roof, and he felt like he might suffocate with the heat of it. He shed his jacket, baring his arms to the moving air, and it helped a little. He reached for a cigarette but cursed and tossed away the empty pack.

  He would have to go into the bunk room, where he kept a carton just for such occasions, which also meant talking to a less-than-pleasant Donnie. He knocked but didn’t wait for a response before opening the door. Donnie lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Jim opened the top drawer of the dresser and reached into the back, pulling out a fresh pack. “Hey, Donnie, I heard what happened.”

  When Donnie didn’t answer, Jim studied him more closely to make sure his chest was still moving up and down as he breathed.

  “I’m alive, asshole,” Donnie grumbled. “That son of a bitch wouldn’t have shot me. I should have just rushed him and knocked him to the ground. There were enough of us to get him tied up until he got a little sense back into his thick skull.”

  “You did what you could, Donnie. No one expects you to take on our president singlehandedly. What made him fly out of here so fast anyway?” Jim asked as he packed the cigarettes and tore at the wrapping.

  “I don’t know. I know he suddenly had this idea that the Diablos knew what we were planning. He talked about them shutting us down by taking out the printer and burning down the shop. I’m sure it made him more determined to go when he realized you weren’t here to stop him.” Donnie rubbed his forehead. “I should have at least suited up and gone with him.”

  Jim scoffed. “And put yourself at risk? Let me tell you, at this point, I wouldn’t have put it past Ari to shoot out your tires to keep you here. Do you really want to buy a new set tomorrow?”

  Donnie didn’t respond, and Jim left the room, calling back, “Don’t worry, Donnie, I got this.”

  He lit his cigarette as he walked through the bar area and inhaled deeply, letting the smoke burn his throat and lungs before he exhaled. Under the stars that were starting to appear in the darkening sky, Jim felt more peaceful, and he clung to that temporarily. He knew that peace would be blasted out of him as soon as Ari pulled into the parking lot.

  Boxer and Digger came back with Creek, and Boxer sent the curvaceous woman into the clubhouse while he and Jim discussed the problem. Digger had filled Boxer in. “Bullseye’s men aren’t here yet, are they?” Boxer asked. Jim shook his head, and Boxer cursed under his breath. “What if the Diablos are on their tail? We weren’t supposed to pick up this shipment for three more days. The Diablos have every reason to get pissed. Not only did Ari go in unannounced, but he took the shipment that the Diablos were going to meet us with.”

  “I realize that.” He had to hope that either the members of the tribe arrived before Ari and the boys, or that they’d somehow managed to stay off the radar, though the former was far more likely than the latter.

  He sat with his arms around his knees and stared at the road outside the complex while he smoked one cigarette after another. He tried to send Boxer to do his deed with Creek, but Boxer disappeared for about five minutes and came back. Jim scowled. “I know you didn’t just pull a wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am on the chief’s daughter.”

  Boxer chuckled. “No way. I’m tapping that for a good, long round. I just asked if she could sit tight and maybe pour herself a drink while I take care of a possible situation.”

  While he didn’t admit it, Jim appreciated the company and the backup Boxer offered. The other guys made their way outside, milling around anxiously as they watched for a reason to react. They all tensed and nearly jumped into action too soon as Bullseye’s men arrived, and Jim let the others settle back in as he greeted the group and told them what was happening.

  Two of them agreed to climb to the roof, where they could be safe and at a good vantage point. Two more took up stances around the sides of the clubhouse, out of sight but with a good view of the parking lot. The last went into the clubhouse and watched through a window. Jim couldn’t even tell any of them were there when he looked, and that was good—it meant they’d be out of sight of the enemy.

  When the truck came barreling into the parking lot, everyone was on their feet, ready for the Diablos to be behind them. But Jim didn’t see anyone else, not even Weasel or Kentucky, and that set off an alarm in his head. Ari jumped out of the cabin, hurried toward the back of the truck, Jim close on his heels. “What happened?”

  Ari slung the rear doors open, and the two men pushed out the ramps to roll their bikes out. “Nothing.” It was a lie.

  “Dammit, Ari, what happened?” Jim demanded, his anger red-lining.

  It was Weasel who answered. “We were almost out of there, and Cortez spotted us.”

  Cortez was one of Rechoncho’s top dogs. “What the fuck were you thinking, Ari? This was stupid. Now twenty Diablos are going to round that corner anytime with the intention of blowing this place to hell.”

  But Ari shook his head. “No, they aren’t. They have to find the bastard first.”

  Jim’s whole body went cold. “What did you do, Ari?”

  “I didn’t do shit except work cleanup crew. Ask Weasel what happened.” Ari walked away and headed straight into the clubhouse.

  Jim rounded on Weasel. “What happened to Cortez?”

  Weasel wouldn’t meet his eyes, just kept pushing his bike toward a break in the line where he could park it. “I did what I had to, Wade. I kept us safe.”

  “That doesn’t answer my question.” Jim stood in front of him, blocking Weasel’s way around, and Boxer stood at his back so Weasel couldn’t run the opposite way.

  Trapped, Weasel broke. “He saw us, and he was going straight back to Sauza. I got on my bike and followed him, and when I had a clear shot, I made it. Straight to the back of his skull.”

  “You dumb son of a bitch!” Jim roared. “You don’t think Rechoncho will notice when one of his men just disappears? What did you do, bury him and his bike in the middle of BFE?” This was a disaster.

  “It bought some time!” Weasel shouted back. “We didn’t want them following us or trying to blow up the truck full of dough, right? So, now, we can get the mo
ney someplace safe and plan for the attack.”

  “And still not have any damn guns!” Jim didn’t even bother with Weasel any longer. He stormed toward the front door of the clubhouse in search of Ari. His leader sat at the bar, a cigar in one hand and a glass of scotch in the other. Jim confronted him. “What made you think this was a good plan, Ari? It could have waited.”

  Ari shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s better to have the money here. If it stayed in that warehouse, the Diablos sure as hell would have burned it to the ground out of spite.”

  “So killing one of their men and giving them a reason for retribution is preferable? You’re insane!” Jim knocked the cigar out of his hand, and it went rolling over the counter to the ground.

  Ari’s eyes flared. “Boy, you’ve stepped over the line. Back off before you get eaten by the wolves.”

  CHAPTER FORTY

  But Jim didn’t back off. Instead, he pushed Ari’s shoulder. “You stepped over the line, boss. You took risks that could get us all killed. It was bad enough to strike out like Indiana Jones, worrying the Soviets would steal the treasure. But killing one of the Diablos and burying the body?!”

  Ari stood and threw his glass across the room, but Jim stood his ground. “That’s just inviting them to line us up and assassinate us. I might as well put a bullseye on your chest!”

  Ari gave Jim a two-handed shove to the chest. “I didn’t see you doing anything to protect our investment, Wade. You’ve been too busy moping around, caught up in your own little world for months now to be the least bit effective.”

  Jim stood chest to chest and nose to nose with Ari. “I’ve done more to protect the investment and the club in the last twenty-four hours than you’ve done in the last five years!”

  Ari took one step back and threw a right hook, but Jim caught his wrist and head-butted Ari in the face. Ari’s head snapped back, but he didn’t go down. He wrenched his arm from Jim’s grasp and went for Jim’s stomach with his left hand. Jim took the punch, which was weak from Ari’s dizziness, and countered by rushing Ari. He knocked him into a barstool that collapsed and landed on top of him on the floor.