by Kane Daemon
“Don’t, Bono. Not now.”
He went into the kitchen, and I went straight for my office and made the one call I knew I could make to stop Stringer. They agreed, and we settled on a place. I then dialed Bain and asked him to meet me at eight. He said sure, but he didn’t believe what I told him. I said we’ll see and ended the call.
I showered and then joined Bono in the kitchen. We talked about the old days while Carrie continued to get ready. We talked about drinking and partying and even the women we’d been with. That’s when Bono told me he’d been seeing a college English professor from Arizona State University. That’s where he’d been disappearing to. He didn't want to hear anyone's shit over it, so he said nothing. I didn’t blame him because we certainly would have given him shit. It was called brotherly love. He even told me he loved the woman. That he wanted to get married. I told him he’d been drinking too much. He told me to fuck off.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Stringer
On interstate ten, I set the bike on cruise, and let the wind hit me in the face. Luckily it was a bright sunny day, and traffic heading to the border was light. Even the State Troopers had decided to take the day off. Troopers hated us a much as we hated them. Especially the whose wife I slept with a few years ago. She got drunk. I approached her in a bar, and her man found her in her car, sucking my dick.
I had planned on being caught. I did not doubt in my mind that I would never make it out of Phoenix. But I did. In fact, I had made it to Tuscon with an hour to go. Sometimes you just had to be lucky. The moon and stars and shit had to align correctly.
I stopped at a small gas station and bought a bottle of water and some roller food. The hotdog tasted old, and the bun tasted stale. That was okay, though. Lady luck was still on my side.
A sweet little convertible Lexus pulled next to the gas pumps, and my eyes went to the piece of ass getting out of the car. I shifted my belt and wondered exactly what was up underneath the skirt the woman wore. She wasn’t young. I would say She was probably fifty or so, but that was okay. They didn’t all have to be soft and firm.
She pumped her gas and even looked over at me once. I nodded, and she quickly turned away. Lady luck was on her side as well. I had somewhere to be. Otherwise, my belt would be wrapped around her neck.
I didn’t like seeing their faces while I fucked them. Who wanted to see a bunch of crying? Take what you were given and shut the hell up.
I finished the hotdog and shoved the bottled water in my side-saddle. I would need it once I hit Mexico. It was the place where you didn't drink the water or eat the food. You only fuck virgins.
The redhead in the convertible stole one more glance at me, and I grabbed my crotch. Fuck her.
It was her loss, not mine.
I pulled out behind the convertible, but we then went opposite directions. I got back out on the highway, and she went into town.
The road gave me time to think and time to contemplate what I would do south of the border. I had the ten-grand, which would get me started in the right direction. I could withdraw the other ten-grand once I got settled down. I was already taking a chance carrying that much money into Mexico. The streets were fucking crazy, and an American had to be careful.
But since I’d been planning for so long, I felt like I had things squared away. A house. Some Central American pussy. And then the party would begin.
I suspected the club would come into Mexico looking, which is why I had to keep going. Central America was as tough as shit in some places, but there were also places where an American could go and be king. That’s where I was heading.
Then I looked in my rearview mirror and understood I’d made a fatal miscalculation. I sped up, but so did they. I sped up again, and then about a quarter-mile ahead, another group pulled onto the road in front of me. They slowed, so I slowed. I then pulled to the side of the road.
“What’s up, homie?” He only stood about five-six, which made him unintimidating. What did make him intimidating was the Aztec colors he wore. His patch said, Seargent At Arms.
“You need something?” I asked. There really was no need to pull my gun. Couldn't shoot all of them. A moment later a black van pulled in behind us.
“You know what’s going down,” he said, and I nodded. “Let’s go.”
I had one hope, and it was a slim one. “I have ten-k if you let me go. All cash.”
Aztec stopped and turned. “We know what you got, homie. It’s all ours now. Even the bike.”
“Fair enough,” I said and went on to the van and climbed in back, six Aztecs joining me. “You did some pretty fucked up shit,” one of the men said. He pulled a cigarette from his vest. He lit up and then blew smoke in my face.
“Word travels fast.” I shrugged. I knew the next move and accepted my fate gracefully. I fucked the world, and it fucked me right back.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Zane
I paced around the pool and looked at my watch again. One hour. That’s all we had.
“They’ll call,” Carrie said, trying her best to reassure me. I wasn’t so sure. The Aztecs didn’t care who they screwed over on this side of the border.
Bono came outside with three beers. “Fucking Aztecs,” he said, “I don’t know if we can trust them Mexican mother-fuckers.”
“I’m sure Stringer had a wad of cash on him. They’ll take the cash and the bike. I’m good with that. They'll turn him over.”
“What if he already made it past the border?” Carried took a beer from Bono and had a slow sip. “Can they get him there?”
“If Stringer makes it across the border and the Aztecs pick him up, they’ll never bring him back. He’ll belong to them, and he’ll wish we found him first.” I motioned at Bono. “Need your help in the garage for a few minutes.”
Bono and I headed to the garage, and once we were there, I closed the door. I grabbed the thirty feet of chain I had on the backbench. I used it to tow cars several years ago. I never knew when I might need it again. The time had come.
“That’s some brutal shit your thinking of, Zane. Club ain’t going to like that shit.”
“The asshole killed my wife,” I said. “And you know damn well Bain is going to want the bloodiest retribution he can get. The more brutal we do this, the more likely he is to call off the war.” I looped the chain around the back of the bike and made sure I had two free ends.
“This ain’t you, Zane.” Bono drank a swallow of beer. “Amanda wouldn’t want this. Maybe we talk to Bain and see if it can be done another way.”
I laughed out loud. “Bain wants it this way. It’s going to be Stringer or the club. I’m choosing the club. It’s up to you and me to keep this shit quiet.” I clapped him on the shoulder. “It really is the only way to keep the peace.”
“Okay,” Bono said reluctantly. “But I want to be there. Someone has to back up your story if or when the club finds out.” He motioned over his shoulder. “You sure you want Carrie there? She may lose her shit.”
“Yeah, she’ll be alright. She wants a piece of Stringer as much as anyone else. I’m going to give her the opportunity.”
“Phone,” Carrie said when she opened the door leading to the garage.
I grabbed the phone, and the three of us went to the kitchen. “Zane here.”
“We got your package, homie.”
“Thank God. You know where to meet.”
“Actually, bro, some things have changed.”
I covered the phone. “Fuck! I knew they would do this.”
Bono got up and started pacing.
“What’s going on?” Carrie asked.
“They’re changing the fucking terms.” I went back to the phone. “What do you want?”
“Another ten-g.” he waited a few seconds for me to decide, but then he chose for me. “Bring the money to the location, and we trade.”
“He knew I had no choice. He may even have already worked out a deal with Bain. “Okay,” I said. “It’s a deal.”
I ended the call and put my hands on the counter, shaking my head. “They want ten-g.”
“Where the hell are you going to get that kind of money this time at night?”
“The warehouse.” I glanced at my watch. Forty-minutes. “I need to run by the warehouse and then to King Slayers.”
“That’s fucking insane, Zane. You can’t go there. My ass is coming with you.”
“No,” I said. There’s something else I need for you to do.” I looked at Carrie. “She needs a way there. You remember the pit?”
“Just west of Phoenix,” Bono said.
“I need you to take Carrie while I run my two errands. The Aztecs may get there before Bain and me, so you gotta watch your ass.”
“Of course.”
I grabbed the Glock from the kitchen table and headed to the garage, Bono, and Carrie following. I tossed the chains in the trunk of the Mercedes and tossed the keys to Bono.
“Oh shit, you must be desperate, Bono said.
“Wreck it, and your ass will be with Stringer.”
Carrie came at me quickly and wrapped her arms around my waist. I squeezed her back. “Don’t fucking die,” she said and kissed me.
“I’m not planning on it, baby. You keep an eye on that son of a bitch over there, and don’t let him fuck up my car.” I kissed her once again and then embraced Bono. “She doesn’t get hurt. Bono nodded.
I hit the road, and it felt fucking great to be back in the club’s saddle once again. I knew to be careful. I had no plans of giving up Legend Industries but did plan to restart my life in the club. I glanced up at the sky and talked to Amanda.
“I don’t know if you’d want this, babe, but I know I have to do it. I hope you’ll understand.”
I sped forward, and twenty-minutes later arrived at the warehouse. As I approached, I saw several employees around the entrance with the police. Manny had been found. As much as I cared and loved the man, I needed to take care of Stringer first, so I continued down the street and doubled back behind the warehouse and used the back entrance leading into the bedroom.
I could hear people in the warehouse talking. I could also see stringers blood on the floor from being bitch-punched by Carrie. The blood made me smile and reassured me she would be okay with club life.
The picture of Amanda and I on the wall was a bit crooked, but that was okay because I took it down and worked on the safe’s dial. The cash was for emergencies, and I certainly had one. I took out twenty-five thousand just in case the Aztecs changed their minds. I then slipped back outside and headed to the King Slayers’ club.
I arrived at the open gates about twenty minutes until eight. The pit was only ten minutes away, so we had plenty of time to get there and take care of Stringer before the war started. Bain met me outside alone.
“Where is everyone?” I asked.
“On their way to Hells Justice,” he said.
“You said eight.”
“I said you had till eight, and then the shit starts. My men will be in place at eight.” He looked around me. “Where the fuck is Stringer?”
“The pit.”
“That wasn’t part of the deal,” Bain said and slipped on his gloves.
I got off my bike, leaving my gloves on. “You and I both want him. We’re sharing in this deal. It's the only way it’s going down.”
“You know it can’t be like that. Somebody still has to take an ass-whipping.” He shrugged. “Plus, you killed two of my men.”
“We don’t have much time. So, let’s get this over with.”
Before the last word slipped my mouth, Bain hit me with a right. I staggered back but didn’t go down. Then he came at me, the two of us slamming into a black van parked behind me. Bono drew his hand back and threw another punch. I moved at the last minute, and his fist hit steel.
I countered with a right to his ribs, and he doubled over. I backed away and waited for him to recover, which he did sooner than I would have liked.
He came at me again and managed a glancing blow against my chin with his left hand. I hadn’t been expecting a left. As he prepared for a right, I hit him with a right uppercut and a left hook. I needed to finish him fast.
Bain staggered and desperately tried to stay on his feet, knowing the first man to hit the ground was the loser. He stumbled back further, and then his ass hit the pavement. He looked up at me.
“Didn’t see that coming,” he said.
“You got thirty feet of chain?” I asked and offered him my hand. I helped him up, and we shook hands.
We tiredly made our way into his garage area and found the chain we needed. He loaded it onto his bike, and we left his empty compound. I wasn’t sure if he would call off the war, so I wasn’t sure he would ever see his club again.
We arrived at the pit five minutes before eight to find Bono and Carrie still sitting on Bono’s bike, the two of them watching a black van. Two Aztecs stood outside the van, guns at the ready.
“Terms have changed,” one of the Aztecs said. “We want 15-g.”
I wanted to tell the guy he was a fucking dumbass, but right then wasn’t the time to be starting a separate war with the Aztecs. I could only fight one battle at a time. I grabbed the 15-g he wanted, leaving the additional five behind that he could have had. I handed him the cash, and the van door opened. Stringer stepped out.
“Fucking Zane Legend finally to the rescue . . . this time.”
I started toward Stringer, but Bain smartly grabbed my arm and pulled me back. “You Aztecs can go,” Bain said.
The Aztecs, with less cash than they could have had, loaded into the van and left us alone.
“Bono, grab the chains from the trunk," I told him.
“Amanda was a nice piece of ass, Zane,” Stringer spoke with a grin I wanted to punch off his fucking face.
I untied Stringer’s hands. “I think Carrie has a few words for you.
Carrie joined us. “You asshole.”
Stringer laughed. “Almost had you.”
Carrie looked around Stringer at me. “Hold him.”
I nodded and grabbed Stringer's wrists. I watched Carrie undo his belt and remove it. She then undid his pants and pushed his pants and underwear to the ground.
“Tiny-dicked little bitch,” she said. “I wouldn’t have felt that anyway.” She made a loop in the belt and then slid the loop over Stringer's head. She then tightened it around his neck and jerked the belt forward.
Stringer went to his knees, coughing, his eyes bulging. Carrie dragged him along the ground until he was fully splayed. She nodded at me and let go of the belt.
I looped the chain around the back of my bike, tied one end of the chain to Stringer’s right ankle, and the other end to his right wrist. I made sure they were snug and dug into the bone. There was no need for them to come loose.
“Give me a second,” Bain said. He did the same with Stringer's left ankle and left wrist. When he was finished, we both straddled our bikes. There were five minutes left.
“Fuc . . .,” Stringer started.
Bain and I revved our engines and pulled away in opposite directions.
Stringer's body ripping in half sounded like a super large zipper being quickly unzipped.
We pulled around to the Mercedes, disconnected the chains from the bikes, and turned our backs on Stringer.
“Call off the war,” I said to Bain.
Bain looked at us, hesitating, his eyes saying that he didn’t want to pass the opportunity to lay waste to Hell’s Justice. Then he pulled his phone from his pocket and tapped the screen. “Call it off. Send everyone home.”
“It’s over?” Carrie asked.
I shook my head. “It’s never over. There’ll be another time and then another. We’ll always be on the brink.”
“Until we aren’t,” Bain said. “One of these days, I won’t call it off.”
“We’ll be waiting,” Bono said.
Bain rode away, leaving us to figure out what to do with Stringer
’s pieces.
“Leave him,” Bono said. “Bain won’t say a fucking word.”
“You?” I asked.
“No, we’re good.” He studied the Mercedes, “Think I could borrow this mother-fucker for a couple of days?”
I nodded. “You going down to get educated?”
Bono laughed. “Who’re you kidding? I’m the teacher. Said she’s never been fucked like the way I give it to her.” He pointed at Carrie. “Don’t let him tell you he’s the best.” Bono pulled away in the Mercedes, hitting a pothole.
“Fuck,” I said. “He’ll never return it in one piece.”
We climbed onto my bike and pulled away, vengeance inflicted.
EPILOGUE
Carrie
We sat along the edge of the southern reach of the Grand Canyon. The entire thing looked like one gigantic painting. The air was still, and a couple of buzzards circled in the air on the opposite side. White-tipped rapids marked the river below. Zane and I would be enjoying the next day on our week-long trip.
The six months since Stringer was found in the pit had been a roller coaster. Trucker wanted to find the fuckers who killed Stringer. Zane never mentioned his suspicions of Stringer being the killer of club wives. In fact, Zane never said another word about it.
“You look deep in thought,” Zane said as he walked up, blotting out the sun and providing me some much-needed shade. “Afraid to do it.” He pointed at the raft bouncing along the river.
“Are you calling me a chicken?”
“Actually, I am.” He sat next to me, the love of my life. The man who’d rescued me from the side of the road on a dark night. It could have been anyone that night. I was lucky.
“What did Bono have to say?”
“Church is meeting tonight. Bono’s going to make the motion for me to be VP. I honestly don’t know how Trucker will vote. To him, Amanda’s murderer is still out there. I’m still responsible.”
“You think he bought your story about why Bain called off the war?”
Zane shrugged. “Everyone can be bought. Even Bain. He’s a money guy. Likes to invest.” He nodded at the canyon. We should probably he down and claims our bunks.”