Chapter Twelve
Griffin
We took a back road west out of Nashville, our bikes spread across the full lane because there wasn’t another soul stupid enough to drive this stretch after midnight.
The salvage yard where the transport was supposed to stage sat just beyond the tree line.
You could smell it even before you saw the high chain-link fence, a reek of wet rust and burnt-off oil.
We rolled up easy, engines dropping to a low rumble as we coasted the last fifty yards.
Parked off the shoulder ahead, half-hidden by palmetto scrub and poison oak, sat a battered box truck with the grill punched in and the headlights taped over.
Behind it, a black Yukon with no plates and the rear windows blacked out idled softly.
“Griffin, take the left flank,” Knuckles instructed.
“Tiny, you and me go up the middle. Inferno, hit the cab of that truck. Rest of you hold back until we’re sure it’s not an ambush.
Gunnar,” Knuckles addressed his vice president.
“You’re responsible to get the holdouts so they don’t get the jump on us. ”
“Got your six, Knuckles.” Gunnar wasn’t as seasoned as some of the guys, but he grew up in the life. Not only that, his dad owned one of the largest paramilitary organizations in the country. Gunnar knew what he was doing.
The drivers in both vehicles must’ve spotted us coming because the box truck’s brake lights flared and the Yukon dropped into drive. There was a flurry of movement inside the cab.
“Go!” Knuckles hissed his command.
Chains shot forward with a roar, his engine screaming as he fishtailed onto the dirt and up alongside the box truck. Knuckles peeled off to circle the back. I brought my bike up the right cut in front of the Yukon. The driver instinctively jerked the wheel to avoid me.
Inferno moved up the middle, gun already drawn, two shots through the Yukon’s windshield before the driver could even react.
The bullet spiderwebbed a hole and plowed through to ping off the metal of the vehicle.
From inside, someone screamed. The driver’s door opened, and a big man tumbled out, shotgun raised.
I fired three times. Two hit the door, one hit the guy in the thigh. He crumpled, dropping the shotgun, then scrambled for the ditch, howling in pain.
Behind me, the rest of the crew pulled up. I sprinted to the rear of the box truck where Tiny already had the pry bar out, wedging it under the lock housing and ratcheting it back with his massive strength.
“Cover me,” he grunted, putting his whole weight into it.
Knuckles swept the tree line, keeping an eye out for anyone we hadn’t seen as well as any indication from Gunnar we had company.
“Here we go.” Tiny heaved the crowbar. The lock snapped clean.
He tossed the bar aside and wrenched the double doors open.
Inside, it was pitch dark. I switched on a pocket flashlight, sweeping the interior.
Rows of empty dog crates and a few loose packing blankets littered the floor.
But bolted to the front wall of the truck, two welded metal cages stood side by side.
One was empty, the bedding inside torn to shreds.
In the other, two women crouched side by side, knees drawn to their chests, their faces slack and gray under the light as they flinched back and cried out.
Knuckles holstered his weapon and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Fuck.” He heaved a long breath. “It’s times like this I really wish Hannah was here.” Like the other man would let his wife go into a firefight. “She’s much better suited to this than me.”
The women didn’t move at first. The one closest to the door, who looked to be maybe in her mid-twenties, had dark hair chopped short and uneven.
She pressed herself deeper into the corner, eyes wide and flat.
The other, a blonde with blood at the edge of her mouth, raised her chin and locked eyes with me.
Her hands gripped the bars so hard her knuckles had gone white.
“Nobody’s going to touch you,” I said, and even though my voice sounded rough. She looked wary but let go of the bars and backed away, putting herself between us and the other woman.
Tiny clipped the chain securing the cage with a bolt cutter Gunnar brought after Tiny got the back of the Yukon open.
The hasp popped off, and he opened the door, letting Gunnar move in first. He offered a hand.
The dark-haired woman ignored it, but the blonde reached for him, and Gunnar eased her out, careful not to touch her more than he had to.
As soon as her feet hit the truck bed, she jerked away from Gunnar and scanned the faces outside. “Who are you?” she demanded, her voice raw but angry.
“Friends,” Knuckles said. “Can you walk?”
She nodded, shaky, stumbled from the truck to the ground along with the other woman. Inferno appeared with a couple of blankets. He tossed one to Gunnar to wrap it around one of the women while Inferno helped the other.
Knight’s voice crackled to life in my ear as he spoke to us through the radio connection we shared. “Clean it up and get the fuck out. We were careful, but if anyone heard the gunshots the cops’ll be here soon.”
I stepped away from the truck and scanned the scene. The Yukon sat in the ditch, the engine dead, driver moaning where he’d landed. The box truck was open and emptied of the unwilling passengers. The rest of the club members riding with us watched the road, their weapons ready, guarding our backs.
“Gunnar, help the girls to the Bronco.” Knuckles and Tiny both backed off to give the women space. Both of the men were hella big and both women looked more than a little wary of them.
I paced the length of the box truck, checking for traps or hidden spaces.
Nothing. At the front of the cargo area, I found a small, battered duffel, zipped shut.
Inside were a burner phone, a roll of cash, and a thick envelope with a strip of blue tape sealing the flap.
I pulled the tape, opened the envelope. Inside was an index card reading:
DELIVERY: 2
CONDITION: UNMARKED
BUYER: I
Inferno came around the front, dragging the wounded driver by the collar and tossed the guy face-down in the mud. The man didn’t even protest, just curled up and shivered.
I heard a shriek from the Bronco. No doubt the traumatized women had had all they could take.
Gunnar climbed in after them with sandwiches and drinks we’d hastily tossed into the vehicle before we left, and the noise faded to the occasional muffled question followed by Gunnar’s soft, gentle replies.
“That wasn’t our target,” I said.
“Figured,” Tiny replied. “Decoy?”
“Or distraction. Or they’re running more than one shipment tonight.” I glanced back at the box truck. “We need to go.”
“Torch the vehicles,” Knuckles said. “If this was a diversion, I’ll send my own fuckin’ message.”
Tiny nodded, already reaching for the gas can from the back of the Bronco. The fire caught fast, black smoke coiling up in the blue wash of the salvage yard floods. When we pulled away, the Bronco with the two rescued women followed at the center of our formation, the motorcycles closing ranks.
Somewhere behind us, Tiny and Chains secured the Steel Serpent member in the second cage we’d brought and would meet us at the designated meetup.
We’d take better stock of the women to make sure they were good until we could get them back to the compound.
We’d have some time before Knight gave us the all clear to head back to the compound.
Last thing we wanted to do was lead anyone straight back to our doorstep.
But once we got the Serpent where we could question him, we’d see what the bastard knew.
The night thinned around us as we put miles between the salvage yard and whatever fallout came next. I kept my eyes on the road and my surroundings, knowing better than to let my attention waver.
We rolled to a stop at the rendezvous. Situated under an abandoned section of highway, the overpass crumbled in sections.
The concrete drainage system underneath the overpass rested hidden from the road leading to it, so it was a good spot to wait for the OK to head home.
And to get some answers from our prisoner.
Tiny brought the Steel Serpent member from the bed of the F-250 where he’d been stashed on our departure.
The bed had a top with a lock so the guy hadn’t had a chance to escape.
The prospect bled steadily from his thigh.
Looked like a through-and-through, but Pain could decide that.
Assuming the guy made it long enough to matter.
Tiny shoved the guy to the ground none too gently.
I squatted beside him. He was younger than I’d thought, no more than twenty-one or twenty-two.
His eyes were slicked over with panic, lips a dirty pink.
He stank of J?gerbombs and sweat. And how the fuck anyone could drink that fucking stuff was beyond me.
Guy deserved whatever his fate was for that alone.
“You want a quick death?” I asked him, deadpan. “Tell me who called in the shipment.”
He shook his head, then nodded, then shook again. “I don’t… They just told me to drive. Guy in the Yukon had the details. Iron doesn’t trust prospects with the playbook.” Interesting Iron would send a prospect for this kind of run.
“Who’s Iron got helping him?”
He hesitated. Tiny wrapped one huge hand over the guy’s mouth before taking his knife and plunging it into the guy’s calf. The kid screamed behind Tiny’s restraining hand, eyes rolling in pain and fear.
When he finally stopped screaming, Tiny removed his hand from the guy’s mouth. “Ratchet and Lou! Fuckin’-- maybe that guy in the mask, but I never saw a face or heard a fuckin’ name!”
I held up the duffel bag I’d pulled from the cab. “What’s in the phone?” I asked.
The prospect planned on lying. I could see it in the way he looked away, then back. “Just burner texts, man. No numbers, no addresses. All coded.”
I yanked the duffel open, pulled the phone out. The screen was spiderwebbed and the cover had a strip of blood across the home button. I thumbed it. The screen flickered to life, password already bypassed. Only one contact starred in the address book. A single capital “I.”
There was an unread message, the green bubble glaring on the screen. I read it through, once fast, then again because this couldn’t be right.
“Griffin?” Knuckles stood in front of me. I handed him the phone and he read the message. “Knuckles. You took the bait. Now KoD will pay for aiding my enemies.”
Gunnar read the text over Knuckles’ shoulder. “We need to go. Now.”
“Yeah.” My voice had gone tight.
The kid must have thought he saw a break, because he tried to lift his head and snarl. “You think you got it all figured out, don’t you? Iron’s already got the other one. By the time you get back, she’ll be--”
I kicked the guy in the head. He shut up, slumping to the ground, his eyes rolling. Inferno cocked an eyebrow at me, not judgmental, just reading the room.
“Finish him,” Knuckles told Inferno, then turned away. He raised his voice to everyone else. “Change of plans. We’re heading back to the compound. Double time.”
Inferno’s gun made a soft click as he chambered a round before firing off one shot to the head. Tiny cut the kid free and let the body roll into the ditch, face down. Inferno removed the clip from the gun before wiping it down, even though he’d used gloves, and tossing it into an old sewage drain.
Everyone mounted up or got in one of the cages and we headed out.
Tiny would inform the compound to prepare for an attack.
Then we just had to drop the two women with us at the safe house until it was clear to bring them back to Haven, assuming they wanted to go.
Then we needed to get to the fucking compound.
The ride back cut through fog and tree shadow, every mile bringing fear closer to the surface.
The safe house took longer to get to than I’d have liked, but it was called a safe house because it was safe.
Away from prying eyes or nasty MCs like Steel Serpents.
I saw Pain and Sully at the gate, weapons drawn, watching the gravel road intently for anyone headed their way.
Hannah met the Bronco outside the small house where they waited to take over care of the women we’d rescued.
I watched as she helped the two traumatized women inside.
I wanted to leave for the compound. Like yesterday.
But logically, I knew Knuckles had to assess the situation before we headed into the fire.
“What’s going on?” I asked as Knuckles and Gunnar exchanged terse comments.
“I can’t get a hold of anyone at the clubhouse. We need to go.”
I’d made promises to Veda and I would keep them.
Not so much because I promised, though I prided myself on keeping my word.
I wanted to fulfill those promises to her because Veda meant something to me.
And because I would do anything for her.
I climbed on my bike, ready to ride with my brothers to defend our home and our family.
As we headed back to the Kiss of Death compound, I readied myself for the next fight.
Let Iron come. I was done playing nice with this motherfucker.