Lear’s old lady was someone Blackheart had known his entire life. Her name was Lovelie, after her Haitian grandma, but she went by Love, which once you got to know her, you knew was a wild misnomer. “Love” was a wild kid in the basin, and an even wilder teen. She wasn’t an attractive woman either. She had shoulders that would make any linebacker proud and a tendency to grow hair on her upper lip. But Blackheart had gotten drunk enough to fuck her one night when Sally was away at college, and the next day Love had shown back up, looking for another. When he told her it wasn’t going to happen, she literally freaked out. He had to have her carried off the property...and that wasn’t the end of it. She broke in while he was sleeping one night and threatened him with a gun, she broke a whiskey bottle another night and cut his belly...he still had the scar to prove that one. Luckily, by the time Sal got back from college, Love had met Lear and it was a love story made in hell. They’d been together now for over thirty years and it was another reason Blackheart had no respect for the other man...anyone who could tolerate Love for thirty-plus years had to be the devil himself. He didn’t trust Love as far as he could pick her up and throw her so he reiterated again, “Seriously, make sure they know what a crazy, unpredictable bitch she is.” Most of his guys knew that already, but he didn’t want them underestimating her just because she was a woman. If she could, she’d run her own MC, and Blackheart didn’t doubt that she probably ran the Mad Men already, just from behind the scenes.
“Got it, boss,” Le Pirate said.
“Once the girls and kids are out, I’ll tell Lear and Newton how it’s going to be. We’re taking Gregor and I don’t want to see another Mad Men kutte anywhere in Jefferson Parish again because the next time Gregor won’t be the only one who bleeds.”
“You got it, boss,” Le Singe said; he was already motioning to Big Mickey and Le Pirate got on the phone to pass the plan on to their road captain Lowlife and the three prospects with him. Then they would wait, and once they got a text back that the shop was closed and the civilians were out of there, that’s when they’d roll again, right up to the front door of that club. Blackheart sat on his bike silently, thinking again about what Gregor and his friends had done to Sharon, feeling sick to his stomach with rage and realizing that although waiting to get his hands on him was hard, the hardest part would be stopping short of killing him when he did. Whether or not he succeeded at stopping short still remained to be seen.
10
By the time they got to the Mad Men’s little compound, the shop was closed up tight, just like the text from Lowlife told them it would be. The second they were close enough for their engines to be heard, Lowlife and the prospects entered from the back, guns drawn. Blackheart and the rest of the men rolled up out front in time to take the front door. A few of the Mad Men, Lear’s SAs and two of his enforcers, had their guns drawn as well, but no one had fired a shot...yet.
“What the fuck is this?” Lear asked, as soon as he saw Blackheart. Blackheart’s blue eyes scanned the room, landing on several young women and one little boy about nine years old. He looked at Lear and said:
“Big Mickey here is going to take your women and children up to the shop so we can talk. You’re welcome to send one of your men up with them...anyone but the one you call Gregor.” Blackheart hadn’t known what Gregor looked like, but as soon as he said the name he heard the sound of a glass being set down hard on top of the bar and suddenly he was looking at the piece of shit who had caused all of this trouble. He was mid-thirties, maybe. It was hard to tell because of all the hair on his face. His tats ran up from underneath his t-shirt and kutte to just under his chin and one side of his long hair was shaved and there was a tattoo on the side of his head, a cartoon man that looked like Yosemite Sam, the Mad Men logo.
“This is my house,” Lear said. “Who the fuck you Cajun bastards think you are, rolling up in here giving orders?”
“We can do this without clearing out the women and kids, if that’s what you want,” Blackheart said. Lear glanced around the room. One of the girls had stepped up behind the boy and had her arms around him. The poor kid looked scared, and Blackheart’s chest hurt looking at the little boy’s wide, brown eyes. He was banking on Lear being human, and suddenly worrying that he’d made a mistake.
Lear looked at his VP and they seemed to communicate something in their eyes before Newton said, “Rizer! Take the girls and the kid up to the shop and lock it down tight.” Newton looked at Big Mickey then and still talking to Rizer he said, “These fuckers stay outside. If they put a hand on anyone, shoot them, between the eyes.” Big Mickey didn’t flinch. He waited for the three women and the boy to be rounded up by “Rizer” and then tossed his head at Tiny. They were all almost to the door when Blackheart said:
“Where’s Love?”
Lear chuckled. “You worried my old lady’s gonna show up and take your fucking Cajun ass out?”
“Where is she?”
“She ain’t here. She went back to the house a few hours ago.” Blackheart looked at one of the prospects, a young guy they called Buck.
“Last house at the end of the road on the right. Make sure she’s there.” Lear started to stand up, but Lowlife was behind him with his gun suddenly pressed to the president’s head. Every other gun in the place was suddenly either on Lowlife or Lear, depending on whose colors they were wearing.
“Leave my old lady out of this,” Lear said.
“He won’t touch her, as long as she behaves.” He nodded at Buck and said, “Just make sure she stays put.”
Buck took off then and seconds later they heard the rumble of his Harley. When the noise died down Lear said, “What the fuck do you want?” There were about seven Mad Men in the club to the Jokers’ half a dozen, but with Big Mickey and Tiny up at the shop with their women and Buck on Love, Lear had enough sense to know that if bullets started flying, his club would easily be wiped out by half in seconds...its two leaders included.
“Gregor,” Blackheart said. “I want that piece of shit, the one you allow to go around beating and raping women.”
Lear frowned and looked over at Gregor. Can he possibly not know what his men have done? Blackheart’s guys weren’t always well-behaved, but he damned sure knew when he had a monster in his midst and as soon as he did, that kutte was gone...and more often than not, the monster ended up in the ashes alongside of it. “What’s he talking about?” Lear asked Gregor. The ugly biker scowled at Blackheart and then looking back at his president he said:
“Same bullshit as those little fuckers that beat up Pinky and tried to take out Sam and Gouda at that bar a few weeks ago were trying to say. One of their little bitches got herself fucked up and she’s pointing fingers at us. Bunch of bullshit.” Le Singe took a step toward Gregor but a simple hand motion from his president stopped him. If they did this right, they could get out of there with Gregor in tow and no shots fired, and that was how Blackheart wanted it. He could tell by the look on Lear’s face, that’s what he was hoping too.
“What’s she saying they did?” Lear asked.