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Valhalla replied. “Dakota took off after her, but he won’t find her. She asked me for help, and I gave it.”
“Damn it, Valhalla,” Wraith cursed the woman. “That is Reaper’s wife. The president’s ol’ lady. You can’t interfere!”
“A woman asked me for help,” the angry woman sneered. “You bet your fucking ass I helped her. That woman has been a fucking pawn since she was born. If she wants time to think, then my club will make damn sure she gets it.”
A cute little woman with blue hair ran over. “Val, LVPD just pulled into the compound.”
“Shit,” Valhalla said lowly. “Wraith, out the back way! Get Sunny out of here. Now!”
“Wraith Warriors!” Wraith snapped. “Let’s ride.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Bullseye
In a joint-task force with the ATF and Homeland Security, the FBI along with state and local authorities in South Carolina, Florida, Georgia, Alabama and Mississippi, in the early hours raided several homes and businesses belonging to the motorcycle gang Satan’s Angels, arresting hundreds of men and women on charges of murder, rape, money laundering, weapon and drug distribution and human trafficking.
This multi-state venture was made possible when the FBI received credible evidence implicating Satan’s Angels and many of their associates. The FBI is keeping a tight lid on the identity of the whistleblower, but speculation is that someone within the Satan’s Angels Motorcycle gang is responsible.
Authorities in several states, including Tennessee and Nevada are still on a manhunt for Curtis Cutter a known associate of the Satan’s Angels’ member named Scab who authorities believe raped a young woman in Chattanooga, Tennessee, leaving her for dead, along with the murders of five of his own men in Las Vegas, Nevada last week. Authorities are asking the public if you see Curtis Cutter, please do not approach. Call your local authorities immediately. The fugitive, Curtis Cutter, is armed and extremely dangerous.
“That diplomatic piece of shit!” I roared, throwing my coffee cup across the living room. We were all sitting around watching the breaking news, stunned at what we were seeing. “He put a fucking Band-Aid on a bullet hole.”
Hawk sighed, shaking his head as he leaned back on the sofa. “You’re right. That is only a temporary fix. The most you’re looking at a maximum of ten, maybe twelve years before most of those men are released. Less if they get talented attorneys.”
“Which means we will be back right where we started. In a fucking retaliatory war. Only then it will be worse, because they will stop at nothing to exact their revenge.” Ink paled before getting to his feet. “I grew up around those bastards. They don’t forget, they are like cockroaches. They will multiply and when they have the numbers, they will attack.”
“Hawk is right,” Phantom muttered. “My sources are saying we have at best a minimum of ten years before we see any retaliatory measures. That gives us ten years to get ready.”
“Might get lucky and some lifer does us a favor and takes out a few on the inside, but most of them will eventually get out. Plus, there is still Scab to contend with. Fucker is still out there, hunting my son and Sunny. We need to find that bastard before he finds them,” Hawk added before asking. “Do we have any idea where Solomon is at the moment?”
“No,” Phantom muttered. “The last sighting I received, he was in Oklahoma with the Diamondbacks, but that was almost a week ago. Kansas also informed me that Reaper was there as well.”
“So, he and Sandman are together, then.”
“That is the consensus.”
“And how is Sunny?” I asked.
“Getting better,” Logic stated, leaning forward. It had been five days since Sunny arrived, along with half of the Wraith Warriors MC, who flat out refused to leave Sunny. Something about keeping a promise. The compound was getting crowded fast with the California Chapter, Disturbed MC and now the Wraith Warriors. A decision had to be made soon. “She’s up moving around, but still tires easily. Wraith refuses to leave her side.”
“He tell you why?” Hawk asked.
“No, but from what I could see, he means to stay until Sandman returns. That man and his club are very protective of Sunny. They watch her like a hawk. No pun intended, Prez. It’s almost as if he considers her family. I looked into the Wraith Warriors, but there really isn’t anything on them. All I could find was information on Wraith, whose legal name is Phillipe Valjean Chevalier. Born in Paris, France. He did a stint with the French Foreign Legion before leaving and making a home in the United States. He’s been in New Mexico ever since.”
“That’s fucking vague as hell, Logic,” Indigo snickered.
“Well, we don’t all have your connections.”
Sighing, I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees as I looked around at my brothers. “We have three clubs here at the moment and no clubhouse. We need to decide. Do we stay and wait for Sandman to show up with Satan’s Angels on his ass or do we head back to Tennessee where we can defend ourselves? Because right now, we are sitting ducks. We’re out in the open.”
“Building materials arrived last month,” Smoke said, speaking up. “I ain’t leaving California. Reaper knows that. This is my home. If I have to rebuild the damn clubhouse myself, I’ll do it. The way I see it, Sandman wanted to come here for a reason, which means he’s making his way here. He’s gonna need our help.”
“Not abandoning my brother,” Massacre growled.
“Me either,” Player added.
“This is home, Bullseye,” Ink stated. “It’s always been home. Hell man, I met my Daphne at the Purgatory Library. Got love for our Tennessee brothers, but this place is home.”
