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“I sure as hell could use a smoke.”
“Let’s go.”
We moved through the hallway, and I let out a sigh of relief that the Silver Sinners had apparently gone along on their merry way. However, we had just cleared the exit and breathed a long sigh of relief at what it meant to be on the other side of those hospital doors when all of a sudden… AAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Melody let out a scream of such rage that it stopped me dead in my tracks.
“Oh shit!” Truly yelled as she took off after Melody.
“Motherfucker! I’m gonna kill you!”
Melody attacked Crix before he had time to turn around. Her legs wrapped around him in a death clutch while she pulled his hair with one of her hands and attempted to gouge out his eyes with the other.
I blame what happened next on the stress of the last twenty-four hours and maybe some of my growing anger at Kid. Because this club business (that’s all he had told me) that had taken him away from me had been going on way too long and the not hearing from him bullshit had crossed the point where I could be understanding about it. So, when Crix’s girlfriend, Wendy Ringer, went after Melody I went after her. After that, it all went to hell. Before anyone knew it, there was a fist-flying, hair-pulling, cat-scratching chick brawl in the parking lot of Pediatric General.
Kid
It had taken me less time than maybe it should have to switch from the man I needed to be for Liddy to the man that I already was. Jet and I had ridden for twelve hours through three states to get to the Saints compound. My ass was numb, my back ached, and my throttle hand felt like it was going to fall off. But the trip gave me plenty of time to think, and I realized that I was in a better place than I had been in a real long time. Maybe in forever. I’d gotten the girl, I was finally going to get justice for Rudy, and not gonna lie…riding with Jet Mathison was a rush.
About five hours into the trip, we decided to stop at a steakhouse to get something to eat. When we entered the place all eyes turned our way. Two big imposing dudes like us wearing leathers covered in road dust were bound to raise attention, especially in a restaurant where a cut of beef started at seventy-five bucks a pop. Our waitress was cute in a big-eyed, big-breasted, sweet kind of way, and she seemed nervous when she waited on us. When she dropped her pencil for the second time, Jet reached down and picked it up for her.
“Darlin’ what’s got you so skittish?”
She leaned in a little. “I’m sorry. It’s my third day on the job and I think I’m going to get fired.” She nodded her head towards the back of the bar where a guy dressed in a black suit was watching her with a kind of hungry intensity that told me all I needed to know.
“I’ve been a server for four years and worked in plenty of places just as nice as this. I’ve never had a problem but the owner of this place is constantly up my bum. Seems like I can’t do anything right. Tonight, I’m supposed to sit down in his office with him after work. I think I might get fired which is really going to suck because I’ve got three kids at home to feed.” She let out a long-frustrated sigh and tucked a soft curl behind her air. “Thanks for letting me vent.” She shifted her apron a little, then went into full waitress mode.
“My name is Ricki and I will be your server tonight. Can I start you with a drink?”
After chowing down a damn good meal, we paid the bill and called Ricki over to the table. Jet put five one-hundred-dollar bills and a business card in her hand. “Call the number and tell Charlie that you’re a friend of the Saints and you need a job. He owns a couple of cigar bars. Real nice places with good tips and benefits. Charlie is a great guy to work for. Give him a call. In the meantime, the cash should help.”
“Is there a problem, sir?” The restaurateur with the cheap suit and hungry eyes was suddenly at the waitress’s side.
“There’s no problem.” Ricki answered as she shot us a look of gratitude and quickly picked up the cash and card from the table. “I quit.”
The owner’s face turned a deep purple with rage but when he tried to grab Ricki by the arm, I stood up and he backed off. We had just finished walking the waitress out to her beat up Chevy mom van when two burly bouncers came out of the building and headed straight towards us. Beating the shit out of those two fatties alongside Jet Mathison was the most fun I’ve had in a long time. Ricki was well gone by the time the fighting was finished, and I hoped that she would take Jet up on his offer of that job.
The dirt road leading up to the large compound was gated at three different intervals and flanked on both sides by high voltage, electrical fencing topped with barbed wire. Large, clearly visible security cameras surveilled our every move. When the massive main gate to the international headquarters of the HSMC swung open, the air became cloaked in an atmosphere of controlled violence, absolute power, and fierce dominance. I felt stronger just being in the shadow of its presence.
The first building we rode by was a large one-story windowless structure with an enormous mural of a broken-winged angel painted on the front of it. To the left of that building rose a cluster of long, straight flag poles with their banners waving high against the sky. I counted seven flags in all. Four for each of the military branches, the American Flag, a POW flag, and lastly the banner of the HSMC.
We continued beyond that first building and down the hill. We rode by a few other buildings, but except for a clinic that could be identified by the Rod of Asclepius sign over the door, I couldn’t tell you what their functions were. Off in the distance, I could see a bunch of firepits, a play area for kids, picnic tables, and grills. There was a service access road that veered off into the wooded area and a bunch of three-wheelers sat parked just off to the side of that. Off in the distance, I could see some heavy machinery. Cranes, excavators, and bulldozers sat at the end of what looked like a small gravel pit.
A while back when Prosper Worthington headed the MC there had been an attack on the Hells Saints compound. After that, the organization went balls to the wall to make sure it never happened again. Everywhere I looked, everything I saw, was tight, orderly, and had a purpose. The place went on for acres and acres and it wasn’t until we were at the back end of the property that we hit the warehouse.
Kai Gage came out to meet us at the door and I recognized him immediately. I had met him a couple of times when we were both kids at club get-togethers. He, Rudy, and I had raised all kinds of hell together and at fifteen we all had to get our stomachs pumped after drinking copious amounts of Absinthe. I still turn green when I think about it.
His grandad had been Derringer Gage, one of the founding fathers of the HSMC. Derringer had served time in ‘Nam with Prosper Worthington. I remember seeing him once when I was a kid at the compound and Derringer had scared the shit right out of me. He had been a small, wiry guy with hard eyes, a mean mouth, and several Vietnamese prayers inked into his shaven head. It was widely known that he had been an interrogation specialist during the war, and his name had been feared among the Viet Cong.
Kai pulled me in for a man hug. “Good to see you, brother.”
“You too, man.”
“So, you wanna see what’s behind door number two?” Kai asked straight off, and I appreciated the lack of small talk bullshit. I had waited a long time for this and although I had looked forward to it in a morbid and bloodthirsty way, a big part of me was also ready for it to finally be over.
Kai moved us to the back of the room where a section of the warehouse was cordoned off with a heavy black curtain made of industrial material.
“Go on, man. Pull it back.” Kai lifted his chin towards the curtain.
