Fourteen miles later, Crash took an exit and headed across the Truckee River. They came to a set of railroad tracks just as a freight train was barreling down on them. Crash made the split-second decision to go around the gates and race across in front of the train. The DK’s were hot on their tail, but didn’t make it to the gates in time to beat the train.
Crash stopped long enough to pull out his phone and make a call to Cole, his eyes watching the freight cars roll by. In between each one, he could see the flash of the headlights from the three bikes waiting on the other side. He noticed the train’s caboose fast approaching. Shit.
Cole picked up on the other end, and Crash shouted out over the rumbling of the train, “I’m coming in hot, and I’ve got three DK’s on my ass!” Without waiting for a reply, he snapped his phone shut and gunned it down the road, hoping they’d make it to The Pony before the DK’s caught up to them.
It was closing in on midnight, and it was dark out in that stretch of Nevada desert heading away from the interstate. As they roared through the desert night, Crash glanced down at his side mirror and spotted three pin-point lights far behind them growing closer and closer. The DK’s were closing in.
The bike flew over a slight hill, and there ahead of them on the left were the lights of The Pony. They flew into a well-lit gravel parking lot large enough to accommodate a dozen tractor-trailers and four times as many cars. There was a large brick ranch house that looked from the outside like any ordinary house except for the two large modular add-on wings attached to the back. A huge illuminated sign that read, The Pony, stood on a pole by the road. The front of the lot was well lit for customers. The back was shadowy darkness broken up here and there by dim security lighting.
Cole, Wolf, Red Dog and Green were standing at the entrance to the gravel lot, guns drawn. Crash pulled in and fishtailed in the gravel before jerking the bike to a stop. He shouted for Shannon to get off and get up to the building, pointing toward it. As she moved to comply, he was already jerking his helmet off and throwing it viciously to the ground as he stalked toward his brothers. He pulled his handgun and waited as the three Devil Kings thundered over the rise. They pulled to a stop in the drive. With five guns drawn on them, they sat, unmoving.
Crash watched as Cole nodded toward Taz. “I was hoping it’d be you. Get off.” Taz shut his bike down and climbed off. The other two remained on their bikes, but shut them down. “Throw your piece down,” Cole ordered.
Taz lifted his vest slowly, pulled his gun from his shoulder holster and tossed it to the ground. Cole nodded toward the knife at his hip. Taz tossed it down as well. Crash, Red Dog, Green and Wolf held their guns on the other two.
Crash watched as Taz’s gaze went to the sign and the building. “Wondered what the Evil Dead would be doing out this way.” He snorted as if he’d put the pieces together. “Mack branching out?”
“Question is, what the fuck are you doing out this way?” Cole asked.
“Just taking an evening ride,” he replied. Then he glanced over at Crash. “You bringin’ out fresh talent?”
“Shut the fuck up,” Crash snapped.
Taz grinned.
Cole drew his attention. “You’re all about it when it’s three on one. Question is, how big are your balls when it’s one-on-one?”
“What’s the matter, Cole? You still pissed about that deal at Stumpy’s?”
Crash could see the anger flare in Cole’s eyes and the tick in his jaw. Taz had just pushed a major button with Cole. That night when Big Ed, the Devil Kings President had ordered four of the eight guys at his back to escort Cole, Crash and Angel to Stumpy’s where they had forced Cole to have her inked with a property stamp had been one of the worst nights Crash had seen Cole go through. It had almost ended things between Angel and Cole.
Big Ed had done it to prove something to Cole, payback for disrespect Cole had shown him. That night, they’d been outnumbered eight to two, and there was no way out. Taz was one mean son of a bitch with a sadistic streak. Cole would have done anything to keep Angel clear of him. After that night, Taz had disappeared. The deal Mack had been trying to work with the Devil Kings fell through, and word on the street was Taz had gone Nomad. This was the first time since that night that any of them even had an inkling Taz was back.
Cole took a step toward the man he hated with a vengeance and growled, “You and me. Let’s go. Our boys stay out of it.”
Taz looked over at his two brothers, and then nodded back at Cole. “Yeah, sure. Whatever. I ain’t worried.”
Cole handed Crash his piece, and a moment later he dropped his head and barreled into Taz, driving him to the ground and knocking the wind out of him. Before Taz could catch his breath, Cole pounded him mercilessly in the face. Hit after hit, blood flying everywhere as his fists connected with Taz’s face. Taz tried to get his hands around Cole’s throat and choke him, but Cole’s relentless pounding didn’t let up.
Taz never had a chance to get a punch in before he fell unconscious. That didn’t stop Cole from continuing to drive his fist into him over and over. The two DK’s still sitting on their bikes began to rethink their neutral position, and Wolf, Green and Red Dog began to get twitchy, their gazes flicking between the two men they had their guns trained on and their VP.
Crash knew Cole was working out an old wound, and he needed to dole out this beating. Payback, with a big fucking exclamation point!
Red Dog looked over at him. “Crash.”
Crash’s eyes moved from Cole to Dog, and he nodded almost imperceptibly. Finally, Crash intervened, pulling Cole off the man before he killed him. “Brother, he’s done. Unless you want to start a war, that’s enough.”
Cole shrugged off Crash’s hold and stared down at the bleeding man, breathing heavily. Then he spit on him. Looking over at the other two Devil King’s, he barked, “Once this motherfucker comes back to the land of the living, get his ass on his bike and get the fuck off the property. This is done. Don’t fuckin’ come back.”
The two men’s eyes slid to the guns still aimed at their chest and slowly dismounted. They hefted Taz to his feet and dragged him to his bike. After about ten more minutes, they were able to revive Taz enough to get him on his bike and ride away.
Shannon watched as the three bikes rode off down the darkened road, the roar of their engines fading into the darkness with their taillights. Crash headed over to her, while Red Dog, Green and Wolf hung back congratulating Cole on the beat down.
Shannon could see the concern in Crash’s eyes and knew he hadn’t wanted her to see that. She was scared to death. Those three men had frightened her in the casino. They were dangerous, especially that one they called Taz. She understood nothing of the MC world, but she feared there would be retaliation for this. She studied Crash as he walked up. She didn’t know how he lived like this. It was a brutal, violent world where just having the wrong colors on your back could get you killed.
And she felt some guilt for it. If it hadn’t have been for her, Crash wouldn’t have been in Reno in the first place. She may have even been what had interested them enough to follow Crash. My God, if those men had caught up to them before they’d reached The Pony, what would have happened? Would they have beaten or killed Crash? And her, she didn’t want to think what they’d have done to her.
Maybe she was letting her fear run away with her.