Chapter One Rev #2
Ignoring him, I started across the gravel of the parking lot to the building.
Two muscular men outfitted in Raiders cuts stood guard at the front door.
At the sight of Bishop and me, a smile stretched across their hardened faces.
The tallest one of the two stepped forward.
“Prez said to be on the lookout for you guys.”
Returning his smile, I threw out my hand. “I’m Reverend Malloy and this is my brother, Bishop.”
“Sidewinder and that’s Weasel,” he replied, motioning to the other guy. “Great to meet you guys. Ya know, I slept over at your clubhouse a few years back after a run.” He winked at me. “You Georgia boys sure know how to show your brothers a good time.”
With a chuckle, I replied, “That we do.”
Stepping in front of us, Sidewinder pushed open the door. “Let me take you to Prez.”
“Thanks, man.”
As we entered the club, it reminded me of the Lounge—the strip club the Raiders owned back home.
While it had once been a favorite hangout of Deacon’s and it still remained one of Bishop’s, I had never been overly fond of it.
Maybe it was because it harbored bad memories for me.
When I should have been old enough to know better, I had gone there searching for love and companionship.
What I found was a girl who didn’t just break my heart, but shredded it with her claws.
Almost three years had passed, but I still wondered if I would remain alone forever.
There was only so much that could be done to an already broken and battered sense of trust.
Among the other patrons sitting at the bar were three men in Raiders cuts.
At the sight of us, they rose off their bar stools and started toward us.
One man, not much older than myself but with a head of white hair, stepped away from the others.
“This is our president, Ghost Phillips,” Sidewinder introduced.
“Rev Malloy,” I replied.
Ghost pumped my hand up and down. “Good to see you, man. I sure as hell wish it was under better circumstances.”
“So do I.”
Jerking his thumb behind him, Ghost said, “That’s Undertaker and Chulo, our vice president and sergeant at arms.”
I nodded my head at them. Ghost motioned to a table. “Have a seat. Let me get you two set up with some drinks.”
Before I could argue that we didn’t have time for drinks, Ghost had waved over a waitress.
Reluctantly, I eased down into one of the chairs.
Within seconds, I felt a hand on my shoulder.
I glanced up as a leggy blonde dropped onto my lap, pressing her ample cleavage into my cut.
When she began to grind her core against my crotch, my breath involuntarily caught in my chest. She flashed a smile at me.
“Hey baby, you look good enough to eat,” she mused.
I jerked my gaze from her back up at Ghost. He winked at me. “We wanted to show you boys a little El Paso Raiders hospitality, so the girls are on the house. Besides, I figured you guys could use a little unwinding after being on the road so long.”
“Hell yeah,” Bishop replied, as he appreciatively took in the attention of the brunette girl rubbing on him.
I didn’t share in Bishop’s approval of the Raiders’ show of hospitality.
It angered me that Ghost and his men couldn’t see the irony in the situation.
Somewhere Sarah was being passed around to strange men for their enjoyment.
Sure, the difference was these women were being paid and doing it of their own volition where she had no choice, but it still didn’t sit well with me.
Shaking my head, I eased the blonde gently off my lap and onto her plastic heels. I took a few breaths to ensure I could respond without alienating Ghost and his men. “That’s kind of you, Ghost, but when it comes to Breakneck’s daughter, I’m afraid we don’t have any time to waste.”
Ghost gave me a grim smile. “I get it, brother. I was just trying to make what I had to tell you a little easier to take.”
My brows rose in suspicion. “You mean the news about Sarah is worse than we thought?”
He nodded. “Come on, let’s go somewhere we can talk.”
After Bishop reluctantly released his girl, we fell in step behind Undertaker and Chulo to wind our way through the tables to the back of the club. Another hulking biker stood guarding the door. He jerked his chin at Ghost, and then stepped aside for us.
We followed Ghost down the dimly let hallway to the last door on the left. When we got inside, I found an impressive mahogany table with ten chairs that must have worked well for short notice meetings. After taking a seat across from Ghost, I began rapping my knuckles anxiously on the table.
“After hearing from you the other day, I immediately put out some feelers for our informants with ties to the Henchman.”
From inside his cut, Ghost produced a manila folder.
He took out a glossy black and white picture and then shoved it across the table at me.
I sucked in a breath. It was of Sarah. She was at some college bar, having drinks with friends.
Across from her on a stool at the bar was a guy in a cut.
I would’ve needed a magnifying glass to prove it for certain, but I was sure he was a Henchman.
Apparently she had been on their radar if they had taken the time to photograph her.
After I flashed the picture at Bishop, he asked, “Can we use the picture to trace the guy?”
Ghost shook his head. “While it was one of the Henchmen who took her, she’s no longer with them.”
I leaned forward in my chair. “What do you mean she’s not with them? They’re demanding ransom money from Breakneck for her return.”
“The Henchmen don’t make it their usual business to deal in human trafficking. But they have been known to abduct a girl or two to sell when they get into a bind with a rival club.”
“Which club?”
Ghost winced. “The Diablos.”
“Jesus Christ,” I spat. It was one thing for Sarah to have been taken by the Henchmen. Although they were dangerous, they were still a low ranking club in membership and without many allies. The Diablos, however, were in a whole other fucking realm.
Out of the top five mega clubs in the world, the Diablos were considered the most dangerous, not just by the FBI and ATF, but by other clubs as well.
They drew their strength from their ties to some of the most powerful drug cartels in Mexico.
They got off on the most extreme forms of torture, and they didn’t give a shit if they had to take out women or kids to get what they wanted.
This was a game changer of epic proportions. “Are you absolutely sure she’s with the Diablos?” I asked.
Undertaker nodded. “I have a contact at the border check. He confirmed that a girl matching Sarah’s description was taken into Juarez yesterday morning.”
Ghost took out another photograph and slid it across the table. “We received this photo earlier this afternoon.”
Once again, Sarah’s black and white image appeared before me. But this photo showed a shadow of the girl who had been talking and laughing in the other photo. Her eyes were cast down to her lap where her hands were clasped. Even through the photograph, her fear was palpable.
“But I thought the cartels were trafficking girls out of Mexico, not into it?” Bishop asked.
“This is the part you’re not going to like,” Ghost answered.
I grunted before telling him, “There’s not one fucking thing about any of this that I like.”
Ghost nodded at Chulo.
“It appears that upper class white girls have become a growing commodity with high ranking cartel members. The Diablo’s El Paso chapter has been targeting college bars and campuses.
Somewhere outside of Juarez, they have a camp where they house the girls before selling them to the highest bidder,” Chulo said.
“Who owns the camp?” Bishop asked.
Chulo took a long swig of beer before replying. “Guy named Mendoza. He’s one of the Rodriguez cartels lugartenientes.” At Bishop’s and my blank expression, he winked. “That’s lieutenant for you gringos.”
I furrowed my brows in confusion. “Wait, so he’s one of their soldiers?”
Shaking his head, Chulo explained, “Being lugartenientes makes him the second highest position in the cartel. He supervises the lower levels like hitmen.”
With my mind whirling with questions, I couldn’t help asking, “So if he’s some second in command in the drug world, where does selling girls come into this?”
“Because of the recent crackdowns on the narcotic trade, human trafficking has become an easy way to supplement their income,” Chulo replied.
As I digested this new information about Sarah’s capture, I momentarily had to cradle my head in my hands.
This was way beyond anything I had ever experienced as a club member, least of all as president.
Not even Preacher Man or Case had ever come up against one of the cartels.
They’d rationalized that the risks outweighed the benefits and steered clear of anything involving drugs.
“So we’re pretty much fucked, huh?” Bishop said beside me.
Raising my head, I shot a hard glare at Bishop. “Maybe for the moment, but we’re not letting Breakneck down.”
“Glad to hear you say that,” Undertaker replied.
I cut my gaze over to him. “What do you mean?”
With a wicked gleam burning in his eyes, Undertaker replied, “I mean, we’re going to help you guys go in and get your girl.”
I cocked my brows at him. “You’re serious?”
“Fuck yeah.”
Shaking my head, I replied, “While we appreciate it, we can’t ask you guys to do that.”
Chulo snorted. “And we’re not asking for your approval. Besides we have our own reasons.”
“He’s right,” Ghost said before I could argue any further.
“What reason could you all possibly have for going up against the Diablos and the Rodriguez cartel?” I countered.
Ghost eased back in seat. “For the last six months, the Diablos have been putting the heat on clubs throughout Texas and Louisiana to patch in with them.”
“I guess I can assume that you guys don’t want to patch in,” I said.
Ghost’s blue eyes narrowed at me. “We would die first before we wore any other patch but the Raiders.”
“Trust me, I can understand. But at the same time, I have to remind you guys what you’re committing to.”
“We’re fucking aware,” Undertaker replied.
I surveyed the stalwart expressions on the faces of the three men. I realized then there was nothing I could do or say that was going to change their minds. Finally, I smiled at them. “Then I have to say I’m very grateful for your help.”
Beside me, Bishop shifted in his chair. “Since Rev and I are fucking clueless about what to do, I sure as hell hope you guys have a plan as to how we’re going to get into Mexico and go up against some second in command cartel lord.”
Ghost chuckled. “Yeah, we have a plan.”
“It better be some old-school, A-Team or SEAL’s type of shit,” Bishop countered, his expression saying he wasn’t convinced of the El Paso Raiders’ abilities.
Rising from his seat, Ghost narrowed his eyes at Bishop. “Trust us. We have a fucking plan.”