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Mountain wanted to get home,but where home was had been shifting after days on the road. This rescue had taken two days longer than he thought it would have been. Back roads mixed with them having to find rental houses last minute since it seemed as if every no tell motel and big chain hotel had a cop on the lookout along the route. Her ex even sent guys in other directions. Backroads weren’t enough to avoid the constant sobriety checks making him wonder if anything, but the cop’s missing wife, was even on the radar for the police in all of South Dakota.
After dropping the woman and her son off at the trailer, he finally left the others and continued on west heading toward Amber’s. While they’d dropped on occasional text, he found he couldn’t wait to see her.
He should have stopped at the SMC Garage to get gas before he headed out on the highway. Happy to not need to be on guard for the first time in days, Mountain hadn’t noticed his gauge until a strange glow lit from below him. He needed to fill up if he was going to make it over to Amber’s.
Pulling into the small gas station, while closed, allowed for cards to activate the pumps in the evening. He thought about sending Amber a text or make a quick a phone call, but decided to surprise her. Road weary, he wanted a woman wrapped around him, and only one would do. Even if Amber said no, it was too late or she had a conflict at the door, at least he could see her face.
Pulling in front of the pump, he shut his bike off only to hear a rumble several times as loud coming from all around him. Dismounting, he shook his head and inserted his card as several bikes surrounded him. Blood Sport was in the house and the last thing Mountain needed to show was his unease. The fact his Glock hadn’t been tucked back in his saddlebag? and instead was resting nicely in his shoulder holster? helped with keep him calm. Seven men verses fifteen bullets gave him pretty good odds.
Lifting the handle for the pump, he turned to face Spike ready to spray if needed.
Instead, the man was walking not stalking over to him, so Mountain unscrewed the gas cap and began fueling.
“Mountain. So I see you patched in.” He pointed to the member patch on his leather jacket. “Congrats man.”
“Yeah, I’m no longer a prospect. What can I do for you?” Mountain continued to fill his gas tank, keeping the rolling numbers in his line of sight.
“We haven’t heard from Red. We want those guns and we’re tired of waiting. Let’s do this?”
The nice thing about a bike, small tank and soon it was full, he hung up the pump then scanned his bike. “Don’t really have a hundred AK’s in my saddle bags right now.” Mountain punched the no when asked if he wanted a receipt and straddled his bike.
“But I have a feeling you have them in stock.”
“We haven’t really had a chance to talk about it. I’ll pass the message on to Red. He’ll contact you and we will set up a deal.” Mountain gave them all the information he felt comfortable sharing. Yes, they’d agreed to sell, but Mountain was still low man on the totem pole, hanging all wonky with Ax.
“That’s not good enough. I want those guns.” Spike snatched at Mountain’s jacket for the second time now and shook him.
Rage, pride and a sense of he was not sanctioned in the name of the Steels to deal with this shit. SOP. The standard operating procedures put in place by the Steels were less of an if this, than that type of situation. More a code each knew from a gut level. His coat had been compromised and every inch of him was ready to take out Spike, even with his rank of VP.
Was he going rouge from their Prez? Or carrying out the man’s orders? Either way, the shorter man had done the nearly impossible. Shake Mountain enough, he actually had to take a step back to steady himself. It wasn’t the basic kick ass mentality that had Mountain grabbing ahold of Spike’s jacket and lifting him off the ground. It was fear, pure, and simple. Knowing he had a weakness scared the shit out of him, even if it were for a moment and that moment spiked his adrenaline enough, Spike was scuffing the toes of his boots trying to find the concrete of the parking lot.
“You’re new to this whole MC thing,” Mountain snarled. “Red warned us, ya’ll have a bit of ignorance in your blood. You might need the rules laid out to you and pass being given. I gave that one time pass, last time.”
“What the fuck man put me down,” Spike tried, and failed to make Mountain’s elbows buckle by punching down on them.
“You think this is a fucking game? Some shitty TV show? Guns the only way men like us make money?”
“No, down, now.”
“First things first, you’re not my Prez or one of my officers,” he said lowering the man only to move his hand to Spike’s neck and swing him around to pin him to the metal pole holding up the overhang of the station.
Only needing one hand to press firmly and keep him in place was enough to have the other Blood Sports jumping off their bikes.
Mountain drew his gun and placed the barrel between Spike’s eyes.
“Back down,” Spike hollered and held a hand out to his men. “But if he pulls the trigger, waste his ass.”
“I don’t like to be threatened,” Mountain said. “And I’m not sure if you think you’re in the damn Boy Scouts where patches can be earned in an afternoon with the right Scoutmaster, but ours mean something. And if you ever touch my coat or my cut again, you’ll be pulling back a pair of bloody stumps. Maybe at the wrists, maybe at the elbow, no matter because you’ll be paying for a good stroke, instead of handling it yourself. Am I clear?”
“Crystal.”
Mountain dropped his gun to his hip and stepped back, not ready to holster the weapon quite yet. Allowing Spike to step away from the pole, but he wasn’t stupid enough to move toward his men.
“Now, if you don’t want a scene here I suggest you get on your bike and get the hell out of here.”
“This isn’t over. I’m tired of waiting to hear from Red.” Spike walked to his bike and got on.
