Chapter 11
Eleven
Fiend
“Brothers, Church is in session! Shut the fuck up,” Demon yells, slamming the gavel.
He leans back, grabbing the chair armrests. He glares at the Brothers until they shut their traps.
“Next time, come in with your fucking traps closed! This is fucking MC business,” Diablo growls, pulling his beard.
“Enough! We have a significant issue that requires attention. The fucking Cartel, one of the Capos in the area, demands that the MC bow to the fucker and work for them. They want us to fucking move their drugs, and to sell on our turf. I don’t fucking like it!
I don’t want the MC involved with the motherfuckers,” Demon yells, fisting his hand.
“What pisses me off is that he wants us to move girls with the drugs. The bastard is into human trafficking! That’s a line that we’re not crossing.
“We want to send a strong message to the son of bitch,” Diablo growls, slamming his massive hand on the table.
“We’re not going to step in line, we’re going to fuck them up,” Demon says, looking around the room.
“They want us to meet up with them in fucking Plymouth off Hwy 49. I don’t like it.
Diablo, Shadow, Killer, Fiend, and Maniac ride your bikes. Shark, Shade, Joker, Fierce, and Menace will go in the cage.
Cage group, leave early, so you can stake out the area, park the cage, and hide.
Bike group, ride an hour early, and wait for the fucker, but be prepared because I don’t trust the fucker.
Diablo is conducting the meet-up. Brothers, you have his back.
It’s fucking clear that the fucker wants us to be his puppets, and that’s not happening,” Demon yells.
“We’ll be leaving at ten after we take care of the MC business! The meetup is at one. It’s going to be dark out there. Grab the night visions, communicate through the mics,” Diablo says, looking at us.
“That means you need to hustle to take care of your runs before the meetup. Brothers, Church is over! Satan’s Warriors power,” Demon growls, pushing off the chair and pumping his fist.
“Riding till we die,” the Brothers shout, jumping up and pumping our fists.
Killer, Shade, and I do our daily runs. I stopped to pick up the ring I had ordered. I hope that she likes it. I stare at the ring as I walk out of the store.
“Fucker, you’re certifiable pussy whipped,” Shade smirks, walking with me.
“Brother, that ring is huge. It cost you some scratch,” Killer says, looking at the rock.
“Of fuckincourse! She’s worth this plus more,” I say, nodding.
“Brother, let’s get our runs done,” Shade says.
I was going to see Autumn tonight, but now with the run, it’s a no. I need to send her a text that I’ll call her when I’m done.
I shove the ring into my Cut and slide onto my bike. I pull on my gear, turn on my bike, and pull out onto the street behind my Brothers.
We ride down the rolling hills towards the meetup. This is an isolated area in the foothills of the Sacramento area. The Cartel selected to meet up here. It’s a good place, but at the same time, it’s dangerous. We have to be alert.
My Brothers in the Cage are already staking out the small warehouse on the outskirts of the small town, Plymouth. It’s known as the Gold Country, while Sacramento is a much larger capital city of California.
“All clear,” Brother says through the mic.
We ride the curve, a few miles away from the meetup, when gunshots fly.
I pull out my Glock and shoot blindly in the darkness in the direction of the gunshots. I speed up, shooting, getting closer, I hear the gunshot before I feel it hit me in my thigh.
Fuck it hurts.
Motherfuckers!
“Let’s get gone,” Diablo says, through the mic.
The bullets keep flying, and I speed up. The fucking bullet hit my tire. I lose control of my bike, and then I run off the road, down the hillside.
I fall off the bike and roll down the hillside with it. My helmet gets ripped off by a tree branch, and I roll a few feet and hit my head on a boulder.
I black out.
The constant beeping of some damn machine wakes me up. I open my eyes and look around, and then all the images of the accident flow through my mind.
“Fuck!”
“Don’t move,” Slash says, resting his hand on my shoulder.
“Everything hurts,” I growl, closing my eyes.
“Of fuckincourse. You rolled down the fucking hill and hit your head on a boulder. You also have a fucking gunshot that I’m working on getting the bullet out of your thigh. It doesn’t appear that it damaged any arteries. It’s embedded in your thigh muscle,” Slash says.
“Fuck! That hurts,” I growl, feeling the pressure from his digging around in my leg.
“Yeah, but I have to find it,” Slash hums.
“My head hurts,” I growl.
“I bet you got knocked out. You have a concussion, and you’ve been out. I’m glad that you’re awake, it’s a good sign,” Slash says, nodding.
“Where’s my cell phone,” I say, looking around.
“I don’t know,” Slash says, pulling out the bullet.
“Where’s my Cut,” I ask, looking around the room.
“It’s in your room,” Slash says, cleaning up the gunshot.
“Fuck,” I growl, closing my eyes.
I pray that I didn’t lose the ring, Autumn's ring.
I never got a moment to text her.
This is fucked up!
She’s going to be pissed off.
Fuck!
I always texted or called. I tried to see her every day since I met her.
My body throbs, and it feels like a massive ache. I don’t know where it hurts the most.
“I’m going to inject some medication to keep you from getting an infection,” Slash says, inserting the needle.
“Is that all I have? Because I’m fucking hurting everywhere,” I grunt, closing my eyes.
“I bet, motherfucker. You rolled down the hill, hitting everything along the way like a fucking ping pong. You do have two broken ribs, scrapes on your shoulders and legs, and a broken arm that I still need to set, so yeah, you’re beat up,” Slash says, starting to sew up my gunshot.
My eyes feel heavy, and I close my eyes. I open my eyes and look at Slash sewing my thigh.
“I’m sleepy,” I groan, grinding my molars, opening my eyes.
Autumn’s face flashes through my mind, and I close my eyes. I inhale and exhale to stop from wimping out.
I’m a fucking Satan Warrior!
I got this.
“Yeah, sleep, you need to rest. I did a MIR, and your head looks good. No bleeding, inflammation, or damaged tissue,” Slash says, nodding. “I’m going to clean you up, no worries.”
“Right,” I murmur, falling asleep.