“You son of a bitch, what the hell have you been up to?”
“A little of this, a little of that. I’m making a living.”
“An honest living?”
“Honest as a lawyer, at least.”
“Well I’ll be damned. Ol’ Miles here has got himself a job.”
“I work for myself.”
It was a conversation strewn with anxiety; filled with tension. It was between Miles and a younger man who Miles had briefly introduced to Alexandra as Joe Glass. Joe Glass seemed to be a real asshole, based on the way the crowd had quieted down and was watching the two of them duke it out verbally.
“Oh,” Joe said, “You work for yourself. Doing what? Shining shoes?” He broke out into laughter and spilled some of his drink. As he lit a cigarette, Miles flipped it up from his lips and it burned his forehead. Miles caught the cigarette in thin air and dropped it to the ground, stubbing it out with the heel of his dusty brown boots.
“Watch yourself, Joe. You’ve got a hot temper and one of these days it’s going to end you, I promise you that.”
Joe Glass stared plainly at Miles with a blank expression, “Is that a threat, Miles?”
“It’s more of a promise.”
“Well look at you. Got yourself a fine piece of ass for a bride and here you are getting all proper. You talk like you’re better than me, Miles. You talk like you’re better than all of us. Is that what it is, bitch? You think you’re better than all of us?”
“Shut your fuckin’ mouth, Joe. You know that’s a load of horse shit.,” one of the men said.
“Is it?” Glass looked around, and then back to Miles, “Is it, Miles?”
“It is, and it isn’t.”
“What?”
“I don’t think I’m better than any of them,” he motioned toward the crowd, and then smiled, “I just think I’m better than you.”
Joe’s lip twitched and he shifted his eyes toward Alexandra. He said, “Hey honey. Why don’t you crouch down and taste a real man’s cock.”
The crowd buckled in as soon as Miles threw a punch, but they weren’t quick enough to break up the first few seconds of the brawl. Miles slugged Joe in the face, knocking him off his bar stool and smashing him to the ground. Joe twisted around and grabbed Miles and pulled him down to him, and then made his way on top of him and raised his fist to swing. Miles blocked the punch and grabbed Joe’s back, pulling him down and head butting him. It made a high pitched cracking sound and then Joe fell off of Miles; limp and borderline unconscious.
“Shit,” one of the bikers mumbled.
“You good?”
“I’m good,” Miles said.
He grabbed Alexandra by the waist and took her into a back room. There, he grabbed a bottled water from a small refrigerator and sipped on it, “Asshole…” He murmured.
“Why is that prick in the group?”
“He won’t be for long, the way he keeps behaving.”
Alexandra looked at him, feeling kind of turned on. Her adrenaline had been pumping during the fight, but now it had settled slightly. What she felt in return was a surge of horniness. She liked seeing her man beat up another man, especially after he’d disrespected her. She thought back to all her old boyfriends, the ones she didn’t last with. She couldn’t think of a single one who’d have come to blows with a guy who looked as big and threatening as Joe did.
But now she was with the one who would. She was with the man who’d come to blows with a monster if he came onto her or said a single threatening or inappropriate word. And it turned her on like crazy.
“Sorry you had to see that shit,” Miles groaned.
“I liked it.”
His brow furrowed and he smiled, “You liked it, did you? What are you, some kinda girl who gets off on seeing her man in fights?” He laughed.
“I didn’t think I was, but it seems to be that way – as long as you win the fights.”
“You alright?”
“Huh?”
“I mean, shit. We’ve gone through so much lately. You’ve seen two sides of me. Which one do you like better?”
She hesitated, “I guess it’s about equal. I knew there was something bad about you before I even met you. People warned me of you.”
“They did? What the hell did they know about me?”
“Just that they’d heard of you. You had an arrest record.”
“It’s old.”
“Some guys never change.”
“I guess I don’t either.”
“But to answer your question, I don’t know. I like both sides. I sure did like living in that Malibu mansion for the brief time I got to. I hope one day we can go back.”
“Los Angeles is my home. Believe me baby, we’ll go back soon enough. But for now we gotta lay low, you understand?”
“I understand.”
He drained the bottle and crushed it in his hand. He pulled off his jacket and set it atop the fridge, and then he took her in his arms. His lips pressed against hers and he cradled her waist with his hands and wrapped her tightly around his biceps. Her breasts came up to just below his muscular chest and she shuddered as he pressed his tongue against her cheek and then rain it down her jawline.
Stopping at her lower neck, he pressed his lips gently against it and made a soft sucking motion, “You’re so gorgeous. My sex drive has never been so high in my life, baby,” he said.
“Stop it,” she said teasingly, “You’re just being sweet.”
Pulling away, Miles cocked an eyebrow, “Do I look like a sweet guy?”
She had to admit, he didn’t. He looked about as big and brawly as they come, “I suppose not… But… I’ve seen your secret tender moments.”
“You better keep ‘em a secret, honey.”
“Or what?”
“Or I might get banished from the damn gang I recently re-joined,” Miles chuckled and pulled her close. He whispered in her ear, “But I have to admit, you do soften me at times…”
“Those times are rare, I’ll admit to that. Most of the time you’re a freaking hardass.”
He nodded, “And I plan to stay that way. It keeps us safe.”
FOURTEEN
The thundering crash and spatter of gunfire came shortly after. Miles and Alexandra were still in the back room fondling each other; only visible to one another through the shimmering moon light that came through the gated, barred window. It shone as if shining through a prison cell, and Alexandra couldn’t have been hornier. He pressed his hard cock against her crotch. He was still in his jeans, and she was still mostly dressed. Although Miles had been working on that rather quickly; pulling her top down and licking her upper breasts as his cock hardened.
Then the sound of a machine gun spattered against the aluminum siding of the compound and Miles ducked to the ground, pulling his woman with him.
“Well, looks like Christmas came early,” he muttered, and drew his pistol from its holster, “stay here, and stay down. Hide behind the fridge, alright?”
She did what he said, and he made his way out of the room and into the main compound, where the door was already being drawn down by the men. They hovered behind the edges of the door and waited for it to fully close. The compound had been pierced by the gunfire in weaker sections, but much of it had a mid-section layer made of concrete, which thwarted the attackers by acting as bullet proof armor. No one had been hit, despite the holes through the walls in the far right front corner.
“Everybody good?” Miles asked calmly, strutting toward the bar to exchange his pistol for his assault rifle.
“Far as I know,” said a voice.
Miles strategically made his way toward the closed garage door, “What’s the plan?”
“You tell me,” Pony said.
The men were all positioned with guns raised and aimed toward the door.
“We just gonna sit in here like damn ducks and wait for them to bomb us out, or something?” Miles asked.
“Well what the fuck do y
ou suggest, cowboy?” Joe Glass stuttered with fury.
“I suggest we behave like the men we are and raise that garage door. Then we blast them the fuck out.”
“When?”
“Now.”
“You ready?” Pony asked.
“Ready as ever. Everybody else ready?” Miles asked.
The men nodded; rifles aimed. Pony pressed the garage door opener and stumbled back in formation. They crouched there with guns aimed like riflemen from long ago, waiting for battle at the front line. As the door raised and gave them clearance they all began to fire in unison. Bullets went off into the desert night and hit nothing. They flew through the chilly night air and vanished.
As the smoke cleared, the men saw through the door that there was no one there, at least not in their sight. The attackers had changed vantage points, which made it difficult for the men. They were going to have to wait.
“We shouldn’t have closed the goddamn door,” one of them said, “Now they could be anywhere. Anybody got any bright fuckin’ ideas?”
“Shut the fuck up,” Miles said, “We’re going to wait. Everybody make sure you’re not in line with the weak sections of the compound. They’re not going to be able to hit us in that case, unless they fire from the door. Everywhere but the door and the weak sections in the middle are solid; bullet proof. Now we just sit here and wait, but keep your guns at the ready.”
Then there was a plop on the roof. A sound of accidental footsteps. It was followed by silence, as if the attacker had stumbled and realized he’d just gotten himself into quite the predicament. It was also when Miles remembered that he’d been wrong about the weak points of the structure only being in the center.
The roof was a weak point.
“Shit, take cover and fire,” he bellowed as gun fire blasted through the top of the roof and came flying down onto the cement flooring of the compound. The bikers fired back, along with Miles, and after two whole minutes the entire roof was full of holes. Smoke and moonlight drifted through the round spaces and everyone was quiet.
“Anyone hit?” Pony asked.
No one replied. Miles thought of Alexandra, in the back corner of the compound. He hoped to god she was okay, and the noise of footsteps and gunfire had only seemed to come through the center of the roof, so as far as he knew, she was just fine.
There was no more gun fire coming from the roof, and since the entirety of it had been covered with their returning fire, the attacker must have been dead unless he’d managed to jump off the edge somehow and escape the shots. Miles doubted it, and he felt somewhat safe for a moment – until the spray of bullets began blasting through the open door.
“Up front, up front.” He barked.
They’d already reloaded if necessary, and the gang began to fire through the open garage door. They held their fingers on the trigger until their sub-machine guns were empty, and then it was quiet. The air was still other than the smoke that slowly drifted through it, and when it cleared they saw the outline of a large SUV with a machine gun turret mounted to the top. The headlights were out; either shot and destroyed or they’d been purposely turned off to stay mostly invisible. Most likely it was the latter.
Miles made his way out the door of the compound, positioned in his stealthy military stance as he aimed his gun and checked his left and right. He walked toward the vehicle, still holding the gun before him. One by one the rest of the gang followed him, and when they reached the SUV they saw that it was carrying three men, now all good as dead.
Their bodies were etched with holes and the truck had been shot up and completely destroyed. Bullet holes covered it. There were more bullet holes than Miles had ever seen in his life. It was a scene of violence, chaos, and destruction. But they were safe, and as soon as Miles confirmed the men to be dead, he left his men to check the vehicle for registration and I.D.’s possibly left on the bodies.
He sprinted back into the compound and into the back room. Alexandra sat hunched there, bawling silently. Her eyes widened when she saw him and she let out what sounded like both a laugh and an aching cry as she lunged forward and held him tightly. Miles felt bad, really bad. He felt like the biggest piece of shit in the world for introducing his newlywed pregnant wife into a world filled with violence.
But this was his life… And the baby was an accident….
And if she wants to be with me, she’s going to have to just deal. End of story.
He held her close and kissed her softly. He had sweated through his clothes.
The pure moment of bliss and relief was short lived for Miles and Alexandra. The sound of gunfire broke out once again, along with the glow of head lights. There had been another vehicle down the hill that neither Miles or his bikers had seen. It had come purring quietly up the paved black top at first, and once it reached the tip of the hill it had flipped on its bright headlights to blind the bikers as the passengers began to open fire.
The SUV wasn’t so much concerned about the bikers though, because Miles didn’t appear to be with them. Bullets were fired and bikers were grazed, but none were killed. The vehicle barreled at fifty miles an hour toward the compound and then swerved so that its passenger side was facing the open door. At that point the two passengers in the front and back seats threw multiple grenades into the building.
Lucky for Miles and Alexandra, they were safely nestled in the back – but they felt the aftermath of the explosions. The pool table and bar were compromised, and wood chips scattered like shrapnel towards them and burst through the open door, grazing Miles on the neck and cheek. The windows were bulletproof and the tires appeared to be made of Kevlar, so the gang’s retaliation had little effect.
Before the vehicle screeched off into the night, the backseat passenger tossed two open gallons of gasoline into the entryway of the compound and then threw a Molotov cocktail. The building burst into flames. Upon catching sight of the explosion and burning interior, Miles grabbed Alexandra and rushed her through the fiery compound which was quickly filling with smoke. They barreled out of the garage door and stumbled onto their hands and knees.
They had escaped. They were safe, for now.
The fire was extinguished and there wasn’t much damage that couldn’t be fixed, thanks to the tough design and near bomb-proof construction of the compound. But the gang knew they weren’t safe, and that they had to leave. Up north was the best option, where they had their second “home”. Belongings were packed and trucks were loaded, and then they were off into the night.
Miles and Alexandra rode together in silence. It was a brisk night and the high ways were mostly empty. Hours later, they had arrived – but they didn’t expect to have brought company, which came soon after, giving them barely enough time to prepare, or even unload their bags.
FIFTEEN
Everyone had arrived. Miles spoke with Pony and other high up members in the club, and things appeared to be going as planned. That’s when it happened. That’s when they realized that they’d been followed. Heads turned and people craned their necks. Some of the old ladies looked panicked and ducked for cover, hiding behind the old steel trucks and large new shiny SUVs.
Before anyone had a chance to say anything else or make further plans, headlights appeared in the distance. Miles recognized them immediately; they belonged to Gulliver’s friend who owned a large diesel pick-up truck. He was a bastard of a man with racist white power stickers adorning the back window of his truck and numerous firearms loaded in his truck bed.
Alexandra winced in fear and looked at Miles to alert him, but of course with his sharply trained senses he’d seen the truck, most likely before even she had. The rest of the gang stared intensely at the oncoming vehicle with expressions of anger on their faces. Behind the big pick-up was another large vehicle that appeared to be a military SUV, and on top of it was what looked like a mounted machine gun.
“Heavy artillery. And I’m guessing the vehicles are loaded to the brim with men. I can smell the gunpowder and ga
soline they’re carrying to torch us. We have to see them, and to attack quickly before they see us or have a chance to torch the place. If the compound is deserted they’ll think we’re gone, but we’ll get them before they even know we’re actually here.” Miles laughed, and when Alexandra looked at his face it appeared calm and almost satisfied, as if he wasn’t frightened at all.
She glanced at the rest of the gang to see similar smirks on their faces as they nodded their heads and looked at Miles in admiration. He was a true gang leader, the best she could imagine. He knew exactly what to do, and even she had to admit that it was a brilliant plan. “For old time’s sake, let’s pretend we never split up. Let’s pretend the gang is as strong as it was four years ago. Because you know what, dammit? It is. Now let’s take these bastards and show them what we’re made of – and don’t leave any survivors.”
Alexandra gulped slightly at the intensity and aggressive tone of his words, and realized that very soon Gulliver would be dead, along with the rest of his men, but she knew they deserved it for the deaths he was about to try and cause, along with the deaths he already had caused.
*
“Miles,” Alexandra muttered in a hushed voice, “They’re here now.”
“I know. You stay here, and don’t move a muscle,” he said gravely.
She was surrounded by the gang behind the tree line, lying flat on her stomach as they sat on their clenched fists and knees and barred their teeth in anger at the approaching men carrying numerous guns and torches. Gulliver was leading the men, and his stupid bald head shone brightly in the moonlight as he held an AK-47 directly in front of him, ready to shoot any gang member in sight.
“Now,” said Miles, “Now.” The gang lurched forward with cat-like speed and made their way discreetly to the backs of the cabins directly outside of the tree line. Alexandra watched as Miles peered around and motioned with his hands for them to move forward. The men were in direct sight of her and she watched in horror as they spotted the gang sprinting towards them from some ten feet away. Gulliver was the first to go. Before he got a chance to pull the trigger he was taken out by Miles; a single shot to the head.
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