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He moved toward them. They greeted him with smiles and back slaps. Digger, a stocky bald man with a Fu-Manchu mustache. Weed, an old hippie with a long grey braid down his back and a gold tooth.
They were there to meet the club’s Mexican drug connection. A meet that had taken days to arrange.
He wasn’t there long before a car pulled up outside. They watched through the window, past the neon beer signs as four Mexicans got out.
As they entered, Weed moved to the bar. He distracted the bartender, while the men made the exchange. It all happened very quickly. A pound of black tar Heroin wrapped in a folded newspaper landed on the green felt. Digger quickly tested it for purity. At his nod, an envelope of money slid out of Wolf’s vest. The newspaper wrapped around the bundle and disappeared into Digger’s inside shirt placket. Wolf handed over the envelope and watched as the man thumbed through the stack before nodding and tucking it into his jacket.
A moment later, the men disappeared as quickly as they’d come.
Wolf and Digger moved to the bar, stopping where Weed stood flirting with the blonde.
“You ready?” Digger asked.
Weed turned to look at him. “I just got this beer. Give me a minute.”
Digger turned back to Wolf, rolling his eyes. “Guess we’re gonna hang out here for a minute.”
Wolf chuckled. “Guess I’ll head on back.”
“Already? You in a hurry?”
Wolf shrugged, not really interested in hanging around now that the deal was done. Especially when he still had that tingling sensation warning him. Of what, he didn’t know, but something was off.
“Must be some hot pussy back in San Jose waitin’ on him,” Weed snickered.
If he only knew the truth, Wolf thought.
“All right, Brother,” Digger pulled him in for a hug, slapping his back. “Good seeing you.”
Wolf walked out, pausing by his bike
, his eyes searching up and down the road as he strapped on his helmet. Nothing. Throwing his leg over the bike, he fired it up.
****
The man stood in the shadows of the building watching the lone bike pull away. He waited until it disappeared over the rise. Then his eyes fell to the other two parked bikes, and he grinned.
He moved around to the back of the building, entering through the backdoor. Moving quietly through the hallway that contained doors for the men’s and women’s restrooms, he paused at the corner, peering around the edge, until he could see the two MC members sitting at the bar.
His fingers tensed on the two Glocks in his hands. Then, smiling, he moved around the corner. The dumb motherfuckers never saw him coming.
Bam. Bam. They were down on the floor, a pool of blood already forming around their head wounds.
The bartender screamed, backing up. He stalked around the bar, backing her up against the wall on the far end. She had nowhere to go. He saw the look of horror as she took in his face, a face he saw reflected in the mirror behind the bar. He smiled, only half of his face lifting. The other half frozen in a paralyzed droop.
His eyes dropped to her tits. They swelled over the top of her slutty tank. He wished he had time to waste. She’d be fun to play with. But he couldn’t risk it. Not with two dead bodies already bleeding all over the linoleum.
He grinned. “Sorry, sweetheart.”
Then he raised one gun and shot her point blank in the forehead. Her body flew back against the wall, and she dropped, a large blood stain trailing down the cheap wood paneling as she slid to the floor.
He moved around the bar and searched the bodies, coming up with the newsprint wrapped prize.
“Bingo.”
He stared down at the two bikers on the floor. He’d love to take their Evil Dead cuts from their dead bodies. What a prize that would be. Almost better than the drugs. But if he tried, he’d end up covered in blood. And that wouldn’t do, now would it? His eyes fell on the silver Evil Dead rings they each wore, and he smiled. Well, now, those would have to do. They would be a sweet consolation prize, and he could easily slip them off without getting too messy. He knelt and pulled them off. Then he stood and unloaded the rest of his clip into their bodies, chuckling as they jerked and twitched with each shot.
When he was empty, he strolled out the back, whistling all the while.
