Diablo saw Sam pacing back and forth as he spoke on the phone.
“I waited for a while. I’m sure that’s all who’s gonna show up from the club. Are you gonna bring the money when you and your boys get here? I’m a little short in paying some guys back and they’re putting the squeeze on me.” Sam wiped the corners of his mouth with his thumb and index finger.
“I just need the money tonight. We got a good crowd here. You’ll make some good money tonight. Fuck!” Diablo’s viselike grip clamped onto the back of Sam’s neck. The man dropped his phone and clawed at Diablo’s hand. “What the fuck are you doing?”
Diablo tossed Sam to the ground and kicked him hard in the stomach. The crumpled man groaned and curled into a tighter ball. Diablo picked up the phone and put it to his ear.
“What the fuck is going on? Sam?” a rough voice asked.
“The Night Rebels are ready for you fuckers.” Diablo threw the phone on the ground and stomped on it, scattering plastic pieces every which way. He bent over and dragged Sam up by his shirt. “You better fuckin’ tell me why you’re talking to the fuckin’ Satan’s Pistons about the Night Rebels. And if you lie, I’m gonna kill you. It’s pretty simple.”
Sweat poured into Sam’s eyes and he blinked repeatedly as he wiped his forehead. “I swear I didn’t want to do any of this shit, but I needed the money. I was desperate. I got some fuckers on my ass and they’re threatening to hurt me real bad,” Sam spilled out.
Diablo tightened his hold on the front of Sam’s shirt. “You got a real pissed-off fucker right in front of you, and I’m not threatening to kill you—I’m telling you I’m gonna do it. So give it to me straight. Why the fuck are the Pistons coming to the goddamn warehouse to see the fights?”
“If I tell it to you straight, you’ll be cool with me, right?”
“I don’t negotiate. All I can tell you is if you don’t, it’ll make it a lot more painful for you.”
“Okay… okay. Satan’s Pistons fund some of the money that brings in the fights. Bloody Knuckles does shows in Arizona and they approached him. They wanted in. They had a cash flow and Bloody Knuckles needed that to get his business going. They put in money to help him buy the warehouse. Now that he’s doing good, he wants them out, but they don’t wanna go. When he found out you were in a motorcycle gang, he shit his pants. When he found out your gang is a rival of Satan’s Pistons, he told me to make sure not to have the Pistons around when the Night Rebels were at the fights.”
“I see you take instructions real good, asshole. Why the fuck were you calling them and setting up my brothers?” Diablo shook Sam, his lips curling in a feral smile as Sam’s teeth chattered and his bones creaked.
“I need the fucking money! They said they’d pay me if I let them know when the Night Rebels showed up. They said they had a score to settle with you guys. I didn’t want to do it, but they threatened me.”
“Yeah right, asshole!” Diablo punched him in the face and he bellowed.
“I needed the money,” he sobbed. “I didn’t want to do it.”
“How the fuck did they even know my brothers were at the fights last week? Did you call them?”
“No. I swear I didn’t. I think one of them is fucking one of the girls and he was there and saw the other guys from your club. That night, they called me and told me I had to let them know whenever the Night Rebels came to one of the fights.”
“Who’s the bitch they’re fucking?”
“I don’t know. I swear.”
“Is Bloody fucking Knuckles involved in this shit with the motherfuckers?”
Sam shook his head. “He’s trying to get rid of them. He’s offered to pay them what they put in and then some, but they don’t want it. He’s stuck. You gotta believe me. I’m not involved with these guys. I just did it this once because of the money.”
“When an outlaw club pays a citizen for information, it owns him all the way. You fuckin’ belong to them.” Diablo punched him in the face again and he groaned, his legs buckling. Diablo let go of his shirt and Sam fell to the ground. After a few kicks to the kidneys and ribs, he rummaged through Sam’s pockets and found a set of keys.
He took out his phone, calling Paco.
“What’s up, bro?” the brother said.
“I got some trash that needs to be taken out. I’m out back. I found the goddamn snitch. The fuckin’ Pistons are on their way in full force.”
In the few seconds it took Diablo to slip his phone in his jeans pocket, Paco, Army, and Brutus joined him. Army spit on Sam’s unconscious body. Handing the key ring to Paco, Diablo pointed to a bronze SUV near the large trash bins. “That’s the fucker’s car.”
Paco nodded. “We can strip it and sell the parts after we take care of him. I’ll put my bike in the back and drive back.”
Diablo nodded. “I gotta get back in.” He went back inside and took over his position, adrenaline pumping through him. He knew the Satan’s Pistons were a little over a hundred miles away, and with little to no traffic on Highway 491, they’d be pulling into Tula in just over an hour, unless they were staying somewhere within the Colorado borders.
Goldie, Chains, Cue Ball, and Jigger came over to him.
“We’re gonna head out. I wanna stay and kill those sonsofbitches, but Steel’s saying we’re gonna be outnumbered,” Goldie said.
