Chapter Eleven
“Where?”
Tank ducked down and pointed through the trees. Brick could see the faint flicker of light intermittently in the distance.
He stood straight. “Fucking pussies. Hiding out like animals.” Brick turned and faced the group of men shrouded in the darkness. “We go in fast and hot. Anyone in that hideout is game. No questions asked.”
Lord groaned.
“Second thoughts?” Brick asked.
“We need at least one of them to interrogate. I want to know how they rebuilt without a prez or VP. We killed all their top brass, but they’ve been busy spying on us and expanding.”
“You hear that? We need answers from at least one of those fuckers.”
It was time. Brick was more than ready. Their revenge was a long time coming. Tank and Rancher had sustained serious injuries after their last shootout.
After the Straight to Hell MC took out all their top men, they should have focused on finishing the job rather than hoping they’d disband.
Now, ready to face off again with the Skull Nation, something new stirred inside Brick. Normally, he ran in with no fear, no hesitation. If he died, he died. Now he had something to live for, a woman to go home to at night. It made a difference.
He had to use caution now. Callie still suffered from her grandmother’s death. Little things like the smell of fresh apple pie made her tear up. Even driving by the old trailer made her emotional. He didn’t want someone telling her he’d died, too. She’d have no one. He had to consider more than just himself now.
They all mounted their idling bikes and hit the gas. No one expected them. Now that their clubhouse was clean of any listening devices, they had the element of surprise.
Brick was out front with Lord and Tarmac. He steered with one hand while getting comfortable with his semi-automatic in the other. It would soon be raining lead. The scent of gasoline, pine, and adrenaline was potent. Light grew stronger as they neared on the narrow path. They were practically on top of them now.
A door burst open, the shadow of a big guy in the backdrop of light stood there with a rifle. Within seconds, he was down. The Straight to Hell MC scattered around the series of small cottages in the woods, revving their engines, shooting everything that walked.
One of their men went down, and Brick wasn’t even sure who it was yet. It enraged him, and he went on the hunt, emptying clip after clip into his enemies. This wasn’t a democracy, it was survival of the fittest.
A bullet whizzed by his head, bringing his focus to the three men in front of him. They converged on his bike and it dropped to the side. He shot one point-blank in the throat, blood spraying out like a fountain. The other two didn’t have guns on them. He pivoted out of the path of a fist before using his own. Two of them were on him, pounding and punching, trying to rip off his cut. It only fueled his rage. He pulled out his blade, using a mix of fighting skills, brawling, punching, and cutting when he had a chance.
He stabbed one of them straight in the heart as the last bastard grabbed him from behind. The following gunshot rang his ears, the shrill echo stealing his hearing. It was Righteous, the motherfucker shot the guy behind him in the head. He was on the ground. Righteous was the one who’d been shot.
It was pure chaos, loud and dark. Brick tried to keep focused, but even in the midst of battle, Callie crept into his thoughts. They didn’t leave any spot untouched during their search. There was no mercy tonight, only blood and revenge. The barrage of gunfire started to ease. He put up his hand, signaling the men in his view to back down. Brick listened as his hearing slowly returned.
Quiet.
“Please. No.” The squealing pleads grew louder. Brick couldn’t see anything until Stump held the Skull Nation prospect into the headlights of several bikes.
Stump shoved him forward and Lord appeared from the darkness like an apparition.
“No prez. No VP. Who’s in charge now?”
Whoever it was had to be pushing daisies after tonight. They’d taken out every biker in this makeshift hideaway.
“I don’t know anything.”
Lord grabbed him by the scruff of the shirt with one hand and backhanded him with the other. Their prez wasn’t gentle. The man was a beast and didn’t do mercy.
“Please…”
“Name,” Lord said. He pulled a handgun from his waistband, pressing it against the biker’s thigh.
“Okay. Okay.”
“I’m waiting. Don’t test my patience.”
“Steel. It was all Steel.”
“What’s his rank?”
“He was patched, moving up the ranks. Once everyone was killed, he took over, rallied the troops, and led our rebuild. He knew where the prez kept the money.”
“Why you hiding out here?”