Cross, Ice, Hawk, and Tank are standing beside the long table that’s only holding a couple of images tonight. Five other brothers are hanging back, leaning on the wall, or sitting on crates. Ace and Rook are sitting on crates, while Scar is leaning against the way between them. His face is grotesquely disfigured by the jagged scar across his cheek. He’s in charge of torture for our club, and most men just tell him what he wants to know before he even gets started on them. He’s a legend in his own right in the biker world. The other two are Mac and Eagle, and I’m surprised to see the young half-Indian here since he’s been so critical about us not punishing the Knights for the explosion that killed Mitch. Cross clears his throat, drawing my attention away from Scar.
“Nice of you to join us,” he says, sarcasm thick in his voice. I nod and look down at the table.
A picture of Snake, the gray-haired guy who seems to be running the show for the Sinners now is in the center of the table, next to an image of the big house overlooking the town. Below that is a row of six more photos of men and houses.
“These are the Sinners’ ringleaders now,” Cross says, pointing at the photos.
“Tonight we will ride, grab them all, and bring them here, where Scar will go to work on them to find out the rest of what we need to know about who’s talking to the feds and such,” Cross says. “I’d prefer to be handling this the old-fashioned way, by leaving none alive to tell tales to cops, but there’s already too much heat surrounding this job. The explosion at the bar drew everyone’s attention, and there’s all manner of police presence around now. Feds, local cops, ATF, you name it, they’re here. And some MCs from as far up as Vegas are already sniffing around too, looking for an advantage in the Sinners’ downfall. They’re all crawling all over town and the cops have already arrested several members of Knights of the Road MC. We can’t afford any more fuck ups and we can’t afford to leave behind a town full of corpses. There are too many eyes watching. We gotta find the heart of this thing and strike there and only there.”
Cross pauses, his piercing black gaze traveling across all of us. I nod along with the rest of the guys in the room. Only Tank is looking a bit skeptical, his eyes narrowed as he watches Cross, but he keeps silent. If anyone asked my opinion, I’d tell them I think it’s a good plan, not foolproof, but perhaps the best we can achieve under the current circumstances.
“We move tonight,” Cross says. “A small operation, an in and out kinda thing. Tank, Ice, and I will take Snake at the big house. The rest of you will be working in teams of two and will each get a house and a target to extract from. There will be no repeats or second chances. Any wives or children living in that house are not to be harmed under any circumstances. Gag them and tie them up if you must, but work hard at not waking them up in the first place.”
Ace and Rook approach the table, as do Mac and Eagle. Cross assigns each team a house and a target. Me and Blaze will be bringing in a younger guy who has no wife. Of the two nights we were staking out the town, he spent both of them in the company of three club whores in the upstairs bedroom of his house, with the windows open and the lights on.
“Rook will be in charge down there,” Cross says. “But you, Colt, will be the eyes and ears.”
His words dispel the vivid memory of the moans and groans that echoed in the nighttime silence from our target’s house.
“He’ll direct you to the houses and he’ll call a retreat if things go sour. I want you all to listen to him.”
The look in Blaze’s unblinking eyes as he stares at me is part shock, part happiness, and part dumbfounded surprise.
“You’ve got an eye for detail and the presence of mind to put two and two together even when you don’t like the answer,” Cross says to me. “And you tend to improvise with good results. So I’m counting on you to know when it’s time to get out down there.”
I nod, swallow hard, and wish I could blink because I’m sure I must look as stupid as a fish right now.
“I won’t let you down, Cross,” I assure him and mean it completely.
He nods. “I’m holding you to that.”
Then it’s time for the nitty-gritty of the planning. Hawk produces a whole new set of photos and outlines the path we’re to take into the town for each of the teams. We’re getting there in two vans, while a third, driven by Hawk, will be waiting to transport the prisoners back to the bunker. Hawk meticulously points everything out on the photos and a map. It takes a good forty-five minutes before he’s finally done and looks up at us, grinning. “Of course, you might have to wing the whole thing. So memorize the face of your target, know him well enough that you’ll know him anywhere. I really would rather not repeat this mission. It’s gonna be much harder the second time around.”
“Is everyone clear on their tasks?” Cross asks, and everyone either nods or says yes.
“Then stay safe out there, as always!” Cross says, and this time the agreements from the crowd of my brothers are louder and more heartfelt.
He tells us to be ready to ride at eleven PM and to tell none of the others about our mission tonight. Keeping secrets from the brothers? When did this happen? Then again, Cross has always handled everything on a need to know basis, so I let it go. As we leave the room, Hawk hands us night vision binoculars and some fancy looking walkie-talkies and shows us how to use them. He also gives us soft, transparent earpieces through which Cross will be able to address us all at once.
“I really should’ve used these on the last job,” Hawk mutters as he fits mine into my ear.
He seems to be talking more to himself than me, so I stay silent.
I have the time to call Brenda now, talk to her for a couple of hours before I have to leave. A huge part of me wants that and nothing else. But this job is too important to let distraction in. As Cross said. There will be no repeats. But once it’s done, nothing will keep me from spending at least a month with Brenda. Preferably naked.
21
Brenda
Monarch sat me on the back of his bike, smiling as he hissed dire warnings for me to sit still, do as I’m told, and not even think about running. I did think about running, thought about the thick, hissing shrubs that scared me enough to turn back hungry the other night. They’d be thick enough to hide in, but then what? Who knows when Colt is coming back. I have no money, since all my belongings are stuffed into Monarch’s saddlebags, and between him and his three cronies, they’d find me before I got very far.
If I sit still and do as I’m told, for now, I might yet get a chance to escape.
About five miles out of town, heading towards Nevada and Vegas, twenty more Kings joined us. Clearly, they’ve been looking for me for a while. But how the fuck did they know where to look? And why the fuck didn’t they come sooner?
Not that I wanted them to.
The hot afternoon air is barely cooled by the cold one created by our passage. Monarch smells of old man sweat and just plain old sweat since he is not in the habit of cleaning his leather jacket very often. I never found his smell appealing, and it’s making me downright nauseous now. My hair is flapping every which way under the too-big helmet he plopped on my head none too gently before we took off.