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“Yeah. Stick around. They’
ll probably be in here tonight. Was a time they wouldn’t dare. Now they’re running off all my business. I was led to believe that being in good with the Evil Dead was going to keep those assholes off my back.”
Shades reached his hand under his cut, pulled out the envelope Butcher had given him and slid it across the bar. “For your troubles.” Then he lifted his chin toward the table. “That will be taken care of. You got my word.”
“Thanks. Appreciate it.” Jerry slid the envelope in his pocket and walked off.
“That was diplomatic,” Blood commented, sipping on his beer.
“We alienate the locals, we become persona non grata around here. That’s not happening.”
“Makes sense.”
“We need to move the bikes to the back.”
“What for?”
“The Death Heads have been showing up here.” Shades shrugged. “They do tonight, we’ll have the element of surprise. They’ll walk in here blind.”
“Doesn’t hardly seem like a fair fight, does it?” Sandman asked.
Blood grinned. “If you find yourself in a fair fight your tactics suck.”
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
The rumble of pipes could be heard from outside. Brick, who’d been posted at the window, turned his head and announced, “Six Death Heads rollin’ in.”
Shades, Ghost, Blood, and Sandman all knocked back their drinks and rose from their barstools.
“Show time, boys,” Shades announced. The other seven Gulf Chapter members, joined them in heading toward the entrance, slowly pulling on black leather gloves as they went.
Shades put his arm out, holding them back from going out the door. “Let ‘em dismount first. We don’t want to give ‘em a chance to pull back out.”
Blood dipped his head, peering through the blinds and past the neon bar sign in the front window. “Least not until we beat their asses first.”
The men all watched through the window, as the men dismounted. Five headed toward the door. One hung back making a call on his cell.
“Now,” Moon ordered.
Shades threw the door open and stormed out.
The six members of the Death Heads froze in shock as twelve members of the Evil Dead MC poured out the door.
“Oh shit!” one of them hissed.
Taking advantage of the surprise, the Evil Dead jumped them in a fight that was two on one. Even though they were outnumbered, the Death Heads MC had no intention of going down easily. They fought back viciously. Fists connected with jaws. Bodies charged each other. When one of them went to ground, he was stomped and kicked savagely. The fight was a violent and brutal confrontation with no holds barred.
It wasn’t long before a dozen squad cars barreled into the lot, lights flashing.
Soon the fight was broken up, and the two MCs were separated. The Death Heads were cuffed face down in the gravel, and the Evil Dead were cuffed to the metal railing that ran along the front of the building.
“Christ, Blood, I thought you were gonna kill that guy,” Shades grumbled, shaking his head.
Sandman spit some blood on the ground. “He probably would have if the cops didn’t show up,”
Blood shrugged. “I may have some unresolved childhood issues.”
“No shit,” Shades agreed with a chuckle.
