Chapter Twenty-Five
TRAVIS
H ands still covered in blood; I hang up and light my cigarette, sat outside on my bike. Dean stands to one side, also smoking. He passes me a bottle of beer, the glass from both our bottles chinking together as he does. The simple noise snaps me from my trance.
I was looking at him, but he’s not who I could see.
A broken arm from running his bike off the road. A blown-out knee cap. Bruises to his face and body. Missing fingers and thumbs.
A missing eye.
Flashes of red paint the inside of my lids when I blink. The level of brutality was absolutely fucking necessary. At the time, I shut it all off, refused to look at it. Seeing it now on repeat, I recognise how unhinged both Dean and I were. I knew I was capable of that level of violence; I just never knew I could rip a man’s eye out with my bare hands. With Dean, I wasn’t surprised by his actions at all.
The cunt who tried to run me off the road is no longer breathing. Once we found out why he came after one of us, we tortured him like it was a sport. I knew why I was doing it. Understood my need to have my fucking revenge. What I don’t like, is the darkness that swallowed me whole—consumed me so completely, I couldn’t bring myself to stop what I was doing. Rather than stop me, Skitz and Dean held him down, both of them matching my level of irrationality without any persuasion needed.
Brothers.
He was compliant before he started assuming we didn’t have it in us to end him. Then the fucker started making threats like there was no tomorrow. That was until Dean shot out his knee cap. Then he told us where and when we could shut them all down. Nothing like testing a man’s loyalty with the end of the gun. I was surprised he cracked at all, but when he divulged not only who their supplier is and where they set up, it was like Christmas had come early.
He told us Saviours have distribution units already set up and running at three locations. Since Elvis recently confirmed the coke I gave him came from overseas, naturally and circumstantially, the Saviour has to be telling the truth.
There’s no one else around here with the reach to set up an operation similar to ours. Plus, smaller clubs either work with us, or for us. They don’t move against us.
We’re calling on some of them tonight. It’s time to move. Strike whilst the iron’s hot. We’ve used our time checking the locations given to us by the dead Saviour. All of them check out. It’s good—means he wasn’t lying. It just also means we’re in for a long run of violence, death and murder.
The triple threat.
We need to crush them in one swoop. It’ll be fucking difficult, given the way the cunt gave no fucks about coming after one of us in our own territory, but we need to get it done now. If we don’t all move as one and annihilate them, this shit will never end.
With the hunger for aggression pulsing through me, I’ve had no time for Mollie. It makes me sick to the stomach. Every time I think about her, or what could have happened, I have to brace myself for the evil desires that try to consume me. I’m still reeling at her apparent dismissal last night. Although she just told me she loves me, without our physical connection, they’re just words. I’m a man who needs physical contact. I need to show her how much she means to me and how much I now rely on her.
I’ve never relied on anyone, not until she came along. She’s like a drug to me, a high that I never want to come down from. Then again, her words irritate me like an itch I can’t seem to scratch. For now.
I hate it when things change or don’t go my way. My brothers know it, hence why they always give me a wide berth whenever shit doesn’t go to plan. So, Mollie telling me that I’m enough for her for now , isn’t going down well. It means one day I won’t be all that she wants. No amount of love I give her will be enough. I like what we have. Nothing needs to change. Change means different .
Taking a long hit of nicotine, I look around where we are. The land we occupied five months ago now has two, large commercial polytunnels on it. We store old bikes here, broken down vehicles, anything from cars to one of my uncle’s old tractors. Of course, it’s a front for storing Elvis’ drugs, a place we know we can man and no one can find the drugs hidden in the vehicles.
It’s after eight. The first signs of the evening beginning to close in are starting to show. The sky’s blacker. The air, cooler. Not that I feel it. My blood’s running hot, readying itself for what comes next. “Rocco,” Dean says, holding up his phone before putting it to his ear. “Yep. Okay.”
I flick my cigarette to the ground. We’re moving.
Dean gives me a nod, hanging up on Rocco and putting his phone away. “Is he ever on time?”
I don’t smile. Sparky should have been here twenty minutes ago. We wait a further few minutes before the wanker finally pulls in and steps out of his car.
“You need a fucking watch,” I spit, immediately turning my back on him as he makes his way over to me.
“Alright,” he says half-arsed, which pisses me off like the flick of a switch.
I spin, grab him by the collar and pull the little cunt to my face. “Not. Fucking. Alright. Do you have any idea how huge this all is?” I tighten my hold, and his eyes widen. “One cock-up from you and it all goes to shit. And if it does, I can personally guarantee it’ll be me that makes your life a fucking misery. Understand?”
“Yes,” he stammers, falling back when I release him.
I walk inside one tunnel, opening the bonnet of a beaten-up vintage car. I have to shake away how it makes me think of Mollie and the ridiculous thing she drives. “You know who you’re taking this to?”
Sparky nods. “Once I let him think I’m giving you up, I call you.”
I pass him the small duffel bag. “Give them the location where we’ll be waiting, tell them the drugs are there. It’s too big an opportunity to miss.” Once Saviours move, our other charters will step in and take out their locations. They’re all in place, all ready to move when we call.
“What do I do after that?”
I give him a small shrug, carefully lowering the hood. “Get out of there. You won’t have long before Rippers move in.”
“Okay.” He takes the bag, turning to walk away. His head is lowered, his whole body drooped.
“Something wrong?” I ask, making him stop.
Sparky slowly turns, his hands gripping the bag tighter. “Will Elvis be there?”
My eyebrows crease, my head tilting to one side. “No, why?”
He looks around the tunnels and the sheltered space around us. “Haven’t really seen him since this started.”
I check his expression, unable to read it behind his hooded gaze. Mollie would know with one look. “Last few buyers need locking down. Once that’s done, Nathan’s out of the picture. Then you get your friend back.”
Elvis has had to lay low whilst we make our new offers. He’s had our protection at every deal, but it’s been a long-winded process, as we knew it would be. We’re almost there.
Sparky’s standing motionless. I cop a look at Dean who’s watching us. “Need you to go,” he tells him harshly.
Sparky shakes his head mildly before shuffling on his feet. He gives me a funny look before he turns and gets in his car.
“What the fuck was that?”
Good fucking question. Grabbing my helmet, I watch Sparky leave. “No fucking clue,” I say. I swing my leg over my bike watching Dean. I can see him thinking. “You don’t think he’ll come through?”
Dean scratches his thumb across his bottom lip. “He’s a dead man if he doesn’t.” He climbs on his bike then grabs his phone and sends a message. “I’ll get Chop to come here. He can keep an eye on this place until it’s done.”
“You think we can afford to pull him from coming with us?”
He waves his hand, turning a palm to the sky. “What fucking choice did Sparky just give us? Something doesn’t feel right.”
“Sparky’s a good kid.”
“Oh, and you trust him with your life all of a sudden?”
I heave a sigh. “I wouldn’t have suggested meeting here , if I didn’t.”
He starts his engine. “And you’ll handle it if you’re wrong?”
I spread my arms out wide. “I’ll handle it.”
Dean frowns, but he also gives me a nod.
It really is as simple as that. You’re either in or you’re out.
Dead or alive. Everything’s so fucking black and white.
Just how it is at home. This or that. The harshest slap to my face is that I know what Mollie now wants isn’t the same as me. “Fuck,” I mutter to myself, starting my engine and following behind Dean.
Once we make it to the location Sparky will give to his cousin, the Saviour he’s meeting, all we can do is wait. Things aren’t great between them, but it’s how we know they’ll believe him. Their hatred for us far outweighs anything brewing between family. If they think we store the drugs here, they’re not going to pass up the opportunity to take it out.
We’ve come armed. Hidden out of sight. It’s not our usual style, but we need to assume they will too.
When he calls thirty minutes later, it’s as if things run like clockwork. They show up not long after, the sound of their bikes rolling to a stop out the front of the old warehouse.
We don’t give them a second to dismount. We move, closing them in and surrounding them from all sides. Shoot first, ask questions later. That’s what Rocco told us.
Fine by me.
This could be where it ends. I feel a small release with every pull of the trigger. I shoot one off his bike, aiming my gun at another who’s crouched on the ground.
Blazes of light flash and bang until Dean raises his hand.
Mop fires another bullet for good measure, the final echo fading into the open air.
None of us move.
“You’re telling me they only sent three of these cunts to take down our operation? What the fuck’s going on?” Mop stomps closer, kicking each of them in turn, as if we didn’t just pump them full of lead.
He has a fucking point. “Dean?”
“Call Rocco,” he orders me. “I’ll check in with Beats.”
We move quick. Scrambling for our phones as Skitz runs for the van, leaving Mop and the four nomads we have with us to begin moving the bodies. Rocco answers as Skitz pulls up, and they begin loading the bodies inside.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
“They only sent three men.”
“Three? ”
“Yeah, should be more, right?”
“Shit. Something’s wrong. Len just called; no Saviours are at his location either.”
“None?” I counter, completely fucking stumped. Each location should be riddled with the cunts. That’s the intel we had, and our scouts confirmed how heavily manned each place was. No way no one should be there.
“What about Beats and the others?” Rocco asks.
I look up, signalling Dean to come over as I place Rocco on loudspeaker. “You get hold of him?”
Dean comes to a stop. “Beats said no one’s there to take out.”
“What the fuck is going on?” Rocco says, more to himself rather than asking us.
“The locations must have been bullshit,” I say, my eyes finding Dean’s.
He pulls on the back of his neck. “No, can’t be. We checked them all out. Each one was fully operational six hours ago.”
“So what’s happened in the past six hours to spook them all?”
Dean’s eyes widen, his head jerking in my direction.
“What?” I ask.
“Not what. Who.”
“What the fuck do you mean?” Rocco shouts from down the phone.
“Sparky,” is all he says.
“What about him?”
My guts somersault. “Don’t fucking say it.”
“Say what?” Rocco asks.
“He’s the only one who knows the location.”
Rocco shouts down the phone, forcing Dean and I to unlock our gazes as we try to work this out. “One of you fucking speak, now.”
“Sparky met us at the tunnels,” Dean says.
“Why’s that a fucking problem? We know Sparky.”
Dean swallows. “He was off. Didn’t feel right.”
“Off? Was there a backup?” Rocco questions, his words harsh.
Dean answers him, looking down at his phone as it starts vibrating. “I sent Chopper there, asked him to call if there was a problem.”
Judging by the dark shadows taring Dean’s face, I don’t need to ask my question. “Is that him?”
He nods, picking up. “Chop?” I watch his face drop, his glazed eyes charge with red.
“Dean?”
“We need to get to the tunnels,” he says coldly.
Every fibre in my body can tell it’s all gone wrong. Our plan to wipe out their facilities was fruitless. “Rocco?” I say, still holding my phone in my hand.
“Get there. Now. I’ll call the others. Go.”
And we move.
Leaving the nomads to clean up, the four of us get back to the tunnels as quick as we fucking can. My hands are white knuckling, the grip on my bars tight. The screaming in my ears is amplified by the rhythm of my heart. It booms. The blood banging so fucking loud in my head, I see a darkness creeping in again.
Today might be the day I don’t come back from it. If my decision to have Sparky meet us there leads to fucking this up, I don’t think I could ever forgive myself.
The club won’t forgive me.
Pulling in, we’re immediately hit with destruction. Just how we chose to go for them, they do the same to us. Multiple Saviours appear up ahead, to my left and my right. We’re outnumbered. I can’t count their fucking bikes, but I see more than the four we have.
Tearing the gun from the inside pocket of my cut, I aim at no one, shooting what bullets I have. I refuse to leave here until we know where Chopper is. I saw Dean’s face when he called. We’ve got to find him.
I manage to keep riding, one hand on the throttle, the other shooting. I ride straight to one of the cunts standing with a gun aimed at me. I don’t care when he fires, hitting the front of my bike. It only makes me ride harder.
Clattering into him, the bike jolts with a bang. I’m surprised I don’t go down. When I turn, I realise I’m all out of bullets. Fuck. My bike is the only thing I have going for me right now. I jam back the throttle until she’s choking, doing the same again. Like a moving target they can’t ignore, I manage to draw the attention away from Dean, Skitz and Mop, charging like a fucking bull in a China shop, mowing them down.
There’s a crack of a gun and I’m thrown forward, the bullet hitting me on the right shoulder. Adrenaline masks the pain, but I feel my clothes instantly soaking up blood. Shit. We need to stop them fucking sharpish before one of us ends up getting killed.
Turning again, I see two more of them lying flat on the ground.
Dean’s following my lead, using the size of his bike as a shield whilst riding into and around them. Together, we kick up enough dust, disorientating those who are still shooting.
We buy just enough time for Mop to take out two more from his spot, ducked behind his bike. Then he starts waving frantically.
I slow down, realising we’ve managed to get them all. “Where the fuck’s Chopper?” I shout at Dean, clutching at my now throbbing shoulder. Pulling my fingers away, I see the tips dripping crimson. It’s not as bad as it feels.
“Find him!”
Dismounting, we head in different directions, checking both tunnels. I take the north side of one, my eyes frantically searching each vehicle. I didn’t see his bike out front, but if he found out he was that outnumbered, here would be the best place to hide. It’s what I would do. Buy myself some time before I could get out and fight back.
Not looking where I’m going, I’m hit on the side of the head by a leather boot, only it’s gentle. It doesn’t hurt like it should. Then I spot the sole of the boot at eye level.
Fear paralyses me. Blind terror immobilises my every limb. For the first time in my life, I’m scared to look. I fear I know what I’m going to find, but I can’t feel anything. It’s unnerving. Horrifying. The stuff of fucking nightmares.
“Travis what the…” My eyes find Dean. He isn’t looking at me. He’s looking at what I’m stood directly underneath. “No. No. No, no, no, no, fucking, Christ. No!” He hurries over. “Fuck!” His voice cracks. Anguish and fear overtaking him. “Help me!”
I slowly turn, two jean clad legs filling my vision. Jamming my eyes closed, a fresh swell of anger begins to rise.
“Travis!”
My eyes spring open. Watching Dean, I manage to hold Chopper’s legs as he climbs on the hood of the car, wildly cutting at the rope suspending Chopper’s body. How the fuck did they do this in such little time? We got here as fast as we could.
The rope frays, and the snap of it giving way means Chopper’s body lands in my arms. My hands tremble, my shoulder ablaze with a roaring pain. Looking down at his purpled face, his lips have swollen, his eyes have bulged. My stomach twists so violently, I heave.
Dean looks at Chopper’s body. Unlike me, he quivers for a different reason. I’ve seen it time and time again. Resentment. Anger. Blackness. Before I can tell him not to go, he’s walking away, unable to see past the rage now festering inside him.
Mop comes running into the tunnel, brushing past Dean as he makes his exit.
I look at him, my eyes pleading for some fucking help.
He sees, coming to my side, one hand on my shoulder as he crouches beside me. “You’re bleeding, brother.”
“I don’t care,” I tell him honestly. This is my fault. Thirty centimetres to the left, and the bullet would have hit where it should.
“We need to get him out of here.”
“I don’t think I can.” Fuck. Why do I sound so fucking weak?
“You’re not alone, brother. We can do this together.”
I look up, realising Mop’s already got him in his arms.
Standing with him, my mind jaded, I follow his lead like an empty vessel. Nomads must have got a call from Rocco. The van pulls up as we step out of the tunnel. I’m caught. I don’t want Chopper’s body in the back with dead Saviours. He doesn’t deserve that. But I realise we have no choice.
This location’s compromised until we can ensure we can protect it. We can’t dismiss the fact they know about it, which means that won’t come easy now. All the fucking effort that went in to getting it, Mollie getting involved, all of it… all of it could have been a waste of fucking time.
Moving like a zombie, I pull out my phone and try Dean. He doesn’t answer. I knew he wouldn’t. I can guess where he’s going though. Sucking in a breath, this night has gone from bad to fucking worse in a heartbeat. And there’s still more to come. I’m tired, bleeding, and a brother down. Things don’t get much bleaker than that. Except, they do. Because he was a brother with fucking kids and another on the way, two weeks away from getting out.
I curse under my breath. How the fuck am I going to tell Tanya?
Hearing the van doors open and watching Chopper’s body be carefully placed in the back, something snaps inside me. My spine straightens, and before I know what I’m doing, I’m heading to my battered bike, pulling out my phone. “Skitz, the drugs,” I point out, nodding my head to the tunnels as the phone rings.
He moves, doing as I order although I have no right to tell him what to do.
Rocco answers. “What happened?”
“Chopper’s dead. The tunnels are compromised.”
His breath is sharp. “Fuck,” he blasts. “And Dean?”
“Gone.” I sound like a robot.
“You need to find him,” he says, like I didn’t already know that.
“Where are you?” I ask flatly.
“Heading to you.”
“No need. We’re heading out.”
Skitz comes back with the drugs. At least they didn’t find them. I can’t even see that as a win. No one wins here. We’re all about to lose something.
“I’ll find Dean.”
“Clubhouse once you do.”
I don’t answer. I haven’t got the time. I know where Dean is going, but what needs doing is on me.
Letting Mop and Skitz know to meet us back at the clubhouse once they’re done, I ride out, racing to get to Sparky’s before Dean does.