Sword (Bones MC 3), page 5
“From the looks of things when we came in, you don’t plan on us leavin’ alive anyway. Besides, I doubt you’re upset over one little female.”
Crow’s smile was evil. “Well, there’s still the matter of the smack you stole. We’re gonna to need it back.”
“It’s gone,” Torpedo said without hesitation so there could be no mistake he meant what he said. “We destroyed it that very night.”
“You mean you sold it. Or used it so your little hick club could get high. Party. Either way, you either give us our stuff, or you reimburse us.” Crow sneered. “Or you don’t leave this fuckin’ place alive.”
The clicks of safeties being switched off and rounds being chambered from every automatic and semi-automatic weapon in the room punctuated Crow’s words. The Bones members didn’t rise to the bait. They stood there, seemingly relaxed when every single one of them -- and the men listening outside -- were on high alert.
“You seem pretty confident you’ve got us.”
“I am.” Crow crossed his arms over his chest and nodded to the side where two men emerged with Arkham, hands behind his back. The big man looked disgruntled, but not in the least upset.
“So, you’ve made the first show of aggression by taking our brother captive when he was under your roof by invitation?”
“He came into another club’s territory willingly. No one forced him here. By putting himself in our hands knowing your club had our property and our drugs, he put himself in danger. You either give us back what you took or your man here is the payment.”
“That your final say on the matter?”
Crow obviously thought he had the upper hand. His grin widened. “It is.”
Torpedo looked around him at the armed men in the room before meeting gazes with Arkham. “Is there anything we can do or say to change your mind?” That was the last warning. Everyone on Bones’ team knew it.
“Give me back my drugs. Or pay me for them.”
Torpedo sighed. “Then I’m afraid we’re at an impasse.”
“I guess we are,” Crow said, his grin widening. He nodded at his men holding Arkham. One of them raised a handgun, cocked it, and pointed it at Arkham’s head. The second Crow nodded his head at his man the second time, the order to execute Arkham, the gunman’s head exploded. Arkham kicked out, knocking the second guard off balance and into the wall so hard, the man stumbled through the drywall, getting tangled in the wooden slats of the wall.
Sword and Viper took up positions around Torpedo while pulling out their own guns. The silencers made them a bit awkward and barrel heavy, but the Bones men were still faster and better than the Black Reign members. Sword winged two of the men he’d pegged as the most significant threat, following up to kill one of them. The second ducked behind a couch. Sword turned his attention to the men around them. Arkham had freed himself and had taken another two men out with his bare hands before retrieving a knife from his boot and a gun from one of the men he’d dropped. Viper and Torpedo had each wounded or killed more than one of the men closest to them, including wounding Crow. The Black Reign president screamed out orders even as he retreated behind his men.
Another gunman’s head seemed to disintegrate as one of the men from Salvation’s Bane unleashed the big .50-caliber sniper rifle a second time. The gun was designed to shoot through concrete to reach its target. Any living thing it hit, it destroyed. The effect on morale for Black Reign was devastating. Crow’s men fled in all directions, some dropping their own weapons in surrender before running for cover.
Crow snarled, his own gun in hand. He aimed at Torpedo. Shots from the suppressed sniper rifles of the Salvation’s Bane men hit with a sickening thud. Two rounds. A half-second apart. Both hit Crow’s middle, ripping his body in half. Blood splattered the walls and the men surrounding him, pooling on the floor in a grotesque display of raw power on the part of Bones.
The whole fight lasted less than three minutes, but Black Reign was in chaos. Women screamed and fled, trying to find shelter. A couple of the men tried to stand their ground, but soon realized it was a fight they couldn’t win. Through it all, only a couple of the Black Reign members got off shots. Their guns were the only sounds that echoed through the night, other than the lingering screams of both patched members and everyone else with Black Reign. They were in the middle of an urban area, so it was likely the police were on their way. If so, there was a bloodbath for them to witness.
With Crow dead, that left Handlebar as president until the club could either confirm or replace him. Right now, the man looked like he was going to be sick. “You… you just…” Handlebar looked at Torpedo, disbelief and shock stamped all over his face. “You can’t do that!”
“Why not? He was going to kill -- no, execute -- my man. Arkham had his hands tied behind his back. We defended ourselves. Not that anyone will ever know. I doubt you’re interested in the law investigating any more than we are.”
“This is war! Do you hear me?” The man was rapidly losing any fear he had. Or, more likely, he was afraid of looking weak in front of his brothers. After all, a club in Kentucky would be much harder to war with than a local club. Anything he promised Bones in this moment would quickly be set aside in the face of taking care of their dead and dealing with their supplier. Undoubtedly, they were getting pressure from someone to deliver payment. They’d still have to deal with Bones, but they would have time. Sword could practically see the wheels turning in Handlebar’s mind.
Torpedo stalked up to the other man, getting right in his face. He had to stoop because Handlebar was at least a head shorter than Torpedo. “No. It’s not. You’re gonna to get rid of your dead, then move your operation out of Bones territory. Consider the Oxy Highway through Somerset closed.”
“You can’t dictate to us! We’ll kill every one of you hillbilly motherfuckers!”
“Down, Handlebar.” A man emerged from the back of the club, immaculately dressed in an expensive-looking three-piece suit. Not a hair out of place, the man looked like he he’d just stepped out of the pages of a magazine. He had a thick head of jet-black hair and light-earthen-toned skin. Though he looked Hispanic, he had a slight English accent. “You’ve already been rude to your guests. Further threats only incite more violence.”
Sword’s attention was now squarely on the newcomer. This guy was more than he seemed. A man of his obvious wealth had to be completely stupid to enter a club like this without muscle. Which meant there was muscle every-fucking-where.
“You seein’ this, Trucker?” Sword asked quietly. He had a bad feeling.
“Data’s doing computer stuff with him. Says it will take him a few minutes to get any information.”
“I don’t think we have a few minutes.” Sword’s heart started pounding, his adrenaline kicking in. There was no indication whatsoever, but he knew in his gut this guy was the real deal. The real threat in the clubhouse at the moment. If Bones and Salvation’s Bane hadn’t known this guy was here, how many more men like him did Black Reign have? It was possible Sword and his brothers were seriously under-manned.
“I heard from Crow your club is the reason my employer’s product is missing.” The guy sounded both educated and refined.
“Not missing,” Torpedo said, loosening his stance, readying to spring if necessary. “Gone. It’s destroyed.”
“You really shouldn’t have done that.” The guy sounded genuinely remorseful. As if what was going to happen next truly pained him.
“Your men shouldn’t have gone through our territory without permission.”
The man looked thoughtful, as if he were seriously thinking over what Torpedo had said. Then he nodded. “I see your point. Black Reign is nothing if not rude, are they not?” Sword was convinced this guy truly expected an answer. Like he and Torpedo were having a polite conversation about a group of peasants, and they were the lords.
Torpedo was silent for several moments, sizing up the newcomer. “Who are you?”
“You can call me El Diablo. Think of me as your guide to either eternal riches or eternal damnation.” The guy simply oozed wealth. From the expensive-looking suit to the Rolex watch, to the three rings and two cufflinks with more diamonds than a jewelry store, the man looked like he could deliver what he so boldly stated.
“I’m sure you are. I also imagine selling one’s soul is involved.”
The smile from El Diablo turned instantly evil. “You have no idea.”
Torpedo opened his mouth to respond, but Data’s voice came through their earpieces. “Everyone out! Get the fuck out of there now! And, for God’s sake, watch your motherfuckin’ backs!”
Sword took up a position in front of Torpedo, switching from his handgun to the rifle hanging across his back. Viper and Sword might be trying to protect their vice-president, but the man was watching out for them as sharply as they were watching out for him. If there was trouble, Sword wanted to take out as many as he could. He knew from experience Viper was walking them out, covering the entrance and watching for unfriendlies waiting to ambush. This was where they relied heavily on their brothers from Salvation’s Bane. There was no way to get to the underground tunnels, and Sword had a feeling they might be a death trap at this point. With this new unknown and the chance the tunnels weren’t exactly safe, he’d rather fight their way out than get caught in a flooding or collapsing tunnel. Or in between the enemy with no way out.
Arkham looked like he might take the motherfucker out, but held himself back, eyeing El Diablo warily. If Arkham gave the guy a pass, there had to be a reason. Still, Arkham looked to Torpedo for direction. If the vice-president told Arkham to take this El Diablo out, Sword had no doubt Arkham was up to the task.
“Before you go, I need to give you a message. Tell your president I understand his frustration with Black Reign, but I can’t allow rival clubs to take product belonging to my employer under any circumstances. I will require reimbursement.”
“What about Magenta?” Handlebar demanded. “That bitch has it comin’, and I want her back.”
El Diablo addressed Sword, ignoring the acting president of Black Reign. “Consider little Magenta a gift. I’d offer her mother back to you, but the woman didn’t seem to understand when it was her time to pay the devil his due.”
“What did you do?” Even as he backed away, trying to keep everyone in his line of sight and protect Torpedo on the way out, Sword had to know if there was any way to save Magenta’s mother. He’d made Magenta a promise, and he intended on keeping it.
El Diablo waved a hand and a man they hadn’t seen before brought a badly beaten woman into the main room and dropped her at El Diablo’s feet. The woman mewed pitifully, sounding more animal than human. She didn’t even try to move on her own. Though her body was broken, several bones poking through her skin in various places, the woman’s face had been untouched, obviously a message. The woman looked so much like Magenta, Sword had no doubt this was her mother. The man who’d brought her in took out his phone and took several pictures of the woman, documenting her injuries. Lastly, he brushed her hair from her face, almost tenderly, before taking a final snapshot.
“Sword, meet Magenta’s mother, Ginger. My man will send those photos to your president as proof of her identity. Magenta will be able to confirm it’s her. Ginger used to be Crow’s. Unfortunately, because Crow’s men lost their cargo, this poor woman paid the price.” El Diablo grin was an evil slash across his face. Sword didn’t question how the man knew his name. He got the feeling this guy had known exactly what he was walking into and had prepared accordingly. If they got out of this without losing anyone, it would either be because El Diablo wanted them to, or because they’d gotten extremely lucky. “She was chosen for more than one reason, though. First, she had her own debts to pay, but the only thing you need to be concerned about is your own debt. Tell Cain I will pay him a visit in two weeks. Because he had every right to defend his territory, I’ll give him that time when I normally would simply punish swiftly without warning. If he pays the three hundred thousand dollars my employer’s shipment was worth, I’ll spare your Magenta. Otherwise…” He trailed off, reaching down to caress Ginger’s face. El Diablo knelt beside her, kissing her cheek gently before letting his hand slide ever so slowly to her chin. A sharp crack rang out as Ginger’s neck snapped under one swift jerk of El Diablo’s hand.
Chapter Eight
“Stash the RV,” Torpedo bit out into his helmet mike as they raced back to Trucker and Magenta. “I want everyone ready to leave in fifteen minutes.” Sword had never been one to run away from a fight, but he needed more information. Whatever Data had found out on this El Diablo wasn’t good. But, given the nature of their work with Cain’s paramilitary mercenary-for-hire business, it took more than a simple badass to trigger any of their danger instincts. This guy pinged all over the place.
“We’ve got your RV,” Havoc said. “We can park it at our compound. I’ll get you a truck to take back to Kentucky. Once this blows over, we’ll swap again.”
“Sounds good. Can you escort us to your place? I wouldn’t ask, but Sword has Magenta, and they’ve threatened her.”
“You don’t need to explain. I’ll get Thorn to authorize an escort for you back to Kentucky if you want. I doubt it will be a problem.”
“Take him up on it, Torpedo.” Sword couldn’t keep the order from slipping out. The vice-president wouldn’t like it, but he couldn’t take a chance with Magenta’s life. “Whoever this guy is, he’s bad news. He might keep his word, and he might be tryin’ to get us to lower our guard.”
“I’m not stupid, Sword,” Torpedo snapped. “We’ll take any backup your president wants to send. I suggest you guys prepare here, too. This guy means business.”
“Thorn’s already on it. He’s been listening in for this very reason.” Havoc flanked the group as they pulled into the area where the RV was nestled, waiting in hiding. The second they pulled in, Trucker emerged, AK-47 in hand like he was expecting trouble.
“Data sent me the info on this El Diablo character,” Trucker said when the bikes were shut down. “He’s a ghost. Hired muscle for every major cartel in the world.”
“What the fuck’s he doing chasing after three hundred thousand dollars in drug money? Seems a bit beneath him.”
“We’ll figure it all out when we’re back in our own territory with the whole club. By that time, I’m sure Data will have more for us.”
Sword was glad Torpedo shut down any debate. Discussing this here would make him crazy. To say nothing about the twelve- to thirteen-hour ride home. He’d hoped to have at least a few hours to rest, but that wasn’t happening.
“Let’s get this RV back to Palm Beach. Once there, we’ll figure out ridin’ arrangements.” Torpedo directed the group with as much ease as Cain always did. It was like they were in the field on a mission. They followed Torpedo’s orders as easily as they did Cain’s. Sword took some measure of comfort in that familiarity. His brothers were surrounding him. They’d help him get Magenta to safety, then they’d figure out the rest of it.
Once the RV had been swapped for an F-250 and the covered bed loaded with their gear, Sword talked Magenta into riding with Trucker until they were out of Florida. He promised her after that, he’d put her on the bike with him. She hadn’t protested, but then he hadn’t really expected her to. She didn’t fully trust him, though he knew she wanted to. It hadn’t been easy parting from her either. Sword had told Magenta her mother was dead, but she hadn’t reacted much. She’d sucked in a breath, but that had been it. Magenta blinked rapidly for a few seconds and then finally murmured, “Thanks for telling me.”
Even as they sped up the highway, Sword counted down the miles until she had those slim arms wrapped around his waist again. If he was going to win her over, it would be on the bike. She seemed like she felt as free on it as he did. Besides, with her in danger, he liked knowing she was near. As much as he trusted his brothers, no one could keep her safe like he would.
Instead of taking the more direct route up Interstate Seventy-Five, they decided to cross Florida to the western coast, staying off the interstates. It added a few hours to their journey, but was necessary to give them a chance at knowing if they were being followed. They made it to a little town just south of the Georgia border called Monticello before stopping. It was late afternoon. Torpedo called a halt at a roadside motel.
“We’ll get back underway tonight. Be ready to leave at oh-three-hundred.”
Sword wasted no time snagging Magenta’s hand and pulling her into their room.
“Come here,” he growled. Before she could protest, Sword pulled her into his arms and found her mouth with his. Not just into his arms. He surrounded her with his embrace and held her as tightly as he could, needing her to know he’d never let her go but unable to say the words.
He knew he was an ass for doing this. Hell, the girl had probably had more men than he cared to think about do the exact same thing. The thought only fueled his anger and lust because it fueled his fear. Fear of himself and what he’d do to any man who hurt this woman.
When Magenta gasped out a little whimper, he slid his tongue into her mouth, tasting her fully. He kissed and kissed her, needing the contact. Needing the beautiful woman he’d somehow connected with despite the darkness inside him.
Her fingers curled in his shirt, but she didn’t push him away. She didn’t hold him to her either. Sword backed her against the door, gripping her thigh and pulling her leg up around his hip. Though she didn’t seem to know what to do with him like this, she still kissed him. Greedily. Nearly as hungry for him as he was for her. Her little tongue darted inside his mouth, following his retreat until she moaned into him. God, he was greedy for the taste of her! He wanted her abandoned. Though he knew she was skittish -- and rightly so -- he could tell there was a little powder keg inside her waiting to be unleashed by the right man.
