Chapter 5
One Day Before Halloween
JOKER
Normally, I love an early morning ride with the cool, dry air whipping against my face before the sun beats down. The exhilaration and freedom can’t be explained, but today is different—today, the familiar dread of the last few days lives in my gut. A deep, hollow pain I can’t ignore.
Two hours later, we pull off the highway and head down a dusty road leading up to the safe house where we store all the artillery shipped up from Mexico. We park our bikes out of sight behind a cluster of trees and rocks.
“Can’t fuckin’ stand this.” Rattler draws deep on his cig as we hunch behind some scrubby bushes.
On any job, waiting is the hardest part, but over the years, I’ve learned to temper my nerves and use them to my advantage. Rattler, not so much. He likes action— any kind, any time. He’s the one who leads the charge, and his lack of fear makes him very valuable and fuckin’ scary at the same time.
The rumble of pipes in the distance puts all of us on point, as Cobra and I exchange glances. Then we watch as the two rogue Nomads park their bikes at the back of the safe house, dismount and go in the side door.
“Fuckin’ bastards have this all timed out.” Cobra grins. “Only they’re gonna be in for a little surprise.”
Rattler makes a move, but Cobra holds him back. “Be cool, brother. We let them settle in first. Let them get comfortable, maybe light up a blunt or do a few lines, then we hit hard and fast.”
Five minutes go by, and now even I’m getting antsy. I check the clip of my gun twice, and I’m ready to go. According to Blade and Arrow, these guys were out of control and off the grid, and one thing I’ve learned—crazy has no fear.
Finally, Cobra gives us the go, and we all spread out. The boarded up windows prevent them from seeing us coming so we fan our around the small structure. Python, Cobra and me in the front while Boa, Rattler and Mamba cover the rear and side doors.
When we’re all in place, Cobra does a silent count. Taking out our enemies is nothing new, and the six of us work in sync all the time, every time.
Cobra nods, and I shoulder through the front door, gun drawn. Boa and Rattler storm the back while Mamba barges through the side door.
Just as Cobra predicted, the morons are hunched over a table in the living room doing lines.
“What the fuck?” They both jump up, toppling the table, leaving a dusting of coke on the wood floor.
“Don’t you know getting high before a job ain’t smart?” Cobra advances, and I nod at Rattler and Mamba. They pull two wooden chairs into the center of the room and slam the Nomads into them while Python and Boa duct-tape their wrists behind their backs and their ankles to the legs of the chair.
They’re in their late twenties, one skinny with a long, dark braid down his back, and the other guy has bulk but no muscle.
Cobra eyeballs them as Python retrieves a baseball bat from the closet and swings it wide like a major leaguer. Python loves to swing the damn thing, especially since the Nomads’ eyes are now the size of dinner plates. We all know how this is going to end, but it’ll be up to Cobra as to how.
Cobra waits another few minutes just to make them sweat, then says, “Not a good idea stealing and hijacking a shipment from the Serpents.” He motions to the coke scattered over the floor. “Also not smart letting that shit cloud your judgment.”
“We didn’t know it was yours,” the skinny guy stammers.
“Bullshit!” Python bellows, swinging the bat only inches from their heads.
“No, really, we were just out riding, and we came across this shack with your stash of guns, but we didn’t know it was Serpents territory.”
“More bullshit.” Python slaps the bat against the back of the chair, making both of them jump. “Now, why don’t you start spitting the truth, and maybe we’ll end you fast. Keep up with the bullshit, and this bat is gonna smash you piece by piece.”
Python takes his job as sergeant-at-arms very seriously. You could say the man loves his work.
“What are you doing so far from home?” I still didn’t totally trust the meet with Arrow and Blade. Maybe these two would spill some valuable intel. Nothing like being duct-taped to a chair to bring out all the lies and secrets.
“Just out riding, that’s all.”
“Seven hours from your own territory?” I look at Cobra. “ I’m thinking maybe you got in some deep shit with your club, and they sent you down here on a suicide mission.”
The two Nomads look at each other and then back to me.
“I’m also thinking since you were dumb enough to get caught, your club brothers, including your grandfather, threw you to the wolves—or in this case—the Serpents.”
“You talked to Warrior?”
“Yup, and he wasn’t pleased,” Cobra adds. “He would’ve taken your asses out himself, only the Shoshones don’t off their own, right?”
The skinny Nomad zones in on me, his black eyes laser-sharp. “Killing us would be a bad idea.”
Mamba barks out a laugh. “And what the fuck are you gonna do about it?”
Mamba and Rattler exchange some shit talk, but the Nomad focuses on me. “You receive a package yesterday?”
My heart misses a beat, and a cold sweat circles my neck.
“Little package with a black stone?” he adds.
“What about it?”
“It’s a Shoshone warning. A way to redeem yourself before something bad happens to?—”
“Shut the fuck up.” Python lands the bat against the Nomad’s shin, and he screams out.
“Killing us would be a huge mistake for your family,” the Nomad hisses through the pain. “You still have time to stop this, but once we die, the curse begins.”
“Enough of this bullshit.” Cobra motions to Python and Mamba, then orders, “Get this done—now.”
Cobra and Boa head for the door, but I’m glued in place. Ninety percent of my brain knows he’s fucking with me, but the other ten percent is making my palms sweaty and my heart race.
“I’m guessing weird shit is already happening to you,” the Nomad yells. “But once our spirit leaves this world, you can’t stop the curse. ”
“Ahhh, for fuck’s sake.” Python turns to me. “Get outta here so we can get this done. I’m tired of listening to this asshole.”
The Nomad’s eyes lock with mine one more time, and swear to fuck, I can’t breathe. I jerk myself around, but I can still feel the power of his gaze and the overwhelming dread of his words. Like he’s already put some kinda fuckin’ spell on me.
I stumble to the door, yank it open and bolt outside, sucking in the dry desert air, but my lungs are too tight in my chest.
“Shit, you’re white as a ghost.” Cobra offers me a smoke, and I put it to my lips with shaky hands. He lights me up, and I drag deep, willing the nicotine to do its job. I finish it off fast, but it doesn’t help, so I grind the butt under my boot.
A second later, two shots ring out, and the feeling of dread turns into debilitating nausea. I suck in some air, but it’s no use, so I round the side of the house and puke into some scrubby bushes. Then again and again until there’s nothing left.
What the fuck? I brace my hand against the wooden slats of the safe house and drag in slow, deep breaths. I could drink all night long and not get sick, so what the hell just happened? It was like something took over my body.
Ahhh shit, I was letting that punk get to me, and I knew why. ‘Cause he threatened my family, which could never stand.
I pull myself together, then join the other brothers.
Cobra follows me with his eyes, and I nod, letting him know I’m good. He motions to the others and points toward the safe house. “Get this shit cleaned up, then wait for the shipment. Joker and I are heading out to The Cathouse to get paid.”
I head for my bike, and Cobra flanks me. “You all right? ”
“Yeah, sure.” Big fuckin’ lie ‘cause I feel like I’ve been run over by a semi.
“Maybe you’re coming down with a bug or something.”
“Maybe.” I play along ‘cause that’s what Cobra expects, but the dread of the Nomad’s words hangs over me like a dense fog.
Cobra flips out his phone, and after a few cryptic sentences with Arrow, we throttle our bikes and head for the highway.
My stomach churns the entire ride, but we finally pull into The Cathouse’s lot. The madam doesn’t waste time with any pleasantries, so we head for the room in the back.
Just like the last time, Arrow and Blade sit at the table while Warrior observes from the corner. His dark eyes are exactly like his great-grandson’s. Fuckin’ weird.
Arrow and Blade stand, and we tap fists. Warrior moves forward and places two duffel bags on the table. I unzip them and do a quick count of each bag, then nod to Cobra.
“Our business is done here.” Cobra hoists one of the duffels onto his shoulder. “And I expect you to honor our agreement, which means you and the other Nomads stay the fuck outta Vegas and the hundred-mile radius around Vegas.”
“That was the deal,” Warrior confirms.
Interesting, since the first time Warrior didn’t step up until the end of the meeting, but now he’s totally in charge.
I hoist the other bag over my shoulder and follow Cobra to the door, then turn and zero in on Warrior. “You know anything about a curse involving a black stone set into an umbilical cord?”
The Nomads’ eyes widen, then they all exchange looks but remain silent.
“That is very serious.” Warrior reaches around his neck, undoes a clasp, then holds out a silver amulet in the shape of a feather on a leather tie, and places it in my hand. “Keep this on you at all times. ”
I peer down at the charm. “What’s this gonna do?”
“The curse you speak of is very dangerous, but this might lessen its power.”
“Might?”
“Once the curse is cast, there isn’t too much that can be done.”
Cobra shifts his feet, then jerks his chin toward the door. “Let’s get the fuck outta here.”
I pocket the necklace and feel the small box with the black stone. Maybe one will counteract the other.
“You weren’t feeding into that bullshit, were you?” Cobra stores one of the bags in his saddlebag.
I busy myself storing the other duffel. “Of course not, but you gotta admit it is kinda freaky.”
“What’s freaky is my hard-ass VP believing in this voodoo shit.”
“I didn’t say I believe it. I said it was weird.”
“I think Daisy’s getting to you with all this Halloween shit.” Cobra throws his leg over his Harley. “‘Cause the only thing we have to worry about is making sure the Nomads hold up their end of the deal and stay the fuck outta Vegas.”
“Right.” I pull on my fingerless gloves and hit the throttle, but the deep ache in my gut hasn’t left me since Python pulled the trigger on that Nomad.