Chapter 26 #3
“ Ah , the perils of wishful thinking .” Legion chuckles, a low, sinister sound. “We are all human, aren’t we? Susceptible to cognitive bias.”
I sneer at him. “ Most of us are human , anyway.”
Legion lets out another sigh. “You and I, we can save Bermuda County. I am confident of that… But your friends here… Jocsan County… This territory will not be easily surrendered on either side.”
“ I know … I’ve long come to terms with the fact I can’t save the fuckin’ world,” I growl with resentment.
“You also know this is an act of war, casualties or no. There will be repercussions… Repercussions that may fall at the feet of the ones we love.”
“Stanley isn’t the only one you’ve maneuvered between a rock and a hard place.” I glare at him. “Besides… Si vis pacem para bellum.” If you want peace, prepare for war.
“People only see the decisions we make…rarely the choices we had… Perhaps now you understand the rock and the hard place I was in three years ago.”
“Only you put yourself there… You’ll get no sympathy or forgiveness from me.”
Legion’s steely gaze lifts from mine to glance behind me, and a sneer pulls at his lips as he stands. “ Speaking of forgiveness …” he mutters, before pulling out his pack of cigarettes and walking away.
“Alright if we have a word?” Daniel says as he steps around the back of the couch to stand before me. Trippy is tucked beneath his arm, and I already know what he wants to discuss.
“Yeah…” I cock my chin at the chair Legion left vacant. “Have a seat. How’s Maddie doing? Haven’t seen her since Halloween.”
“She’s great,” Daniel says, taking a seat beside Trippy. “Lucinda’s got her wanting to join a cheerleading academy.”
“Isn’t she a little young for that?” I ask.
“Competitive cheerleading starts as early as elementary school. If you mean school-wise, cheer teams typically begin in middle school. She could earn a scholarship if she really likes it and sticks with it. Whatever makes Maddie happy.”
“I don’t envy you, Daniel,” I joke. “You’re gonna have a sparkling gun collection by the time she graduates high school.”
He chuckles, but I can tell he’s stressing about it. “Well, I hope your next kid is a girl so you can share in my pain.”
That comment wipes the grin off my face. “We’re rolling out soon. What do you want to talk about?”
“We’d like you to give your blessing for Slice to patch me in. I’ve done my time, so has Trippy,” Daniel explains.
I shift my gaze to Trippy. “You really want to hitch yourself to this guy?”
She places a hand on his knee and lifts her chin, squaring her shoulders. “Yes. I know you two have had your differences, but Daniel is a good man. You’re both good men, and I never took you for one to stand in the way of anyone’s happiness out of spite.”
“Relax, doll. I’m also here to let Slice know it’s cool with me if Daniel patches in. As far as I know, it’ll happen.”
They both seem to sigh with relief before Trippy throws her arms around his neck. “Thanks, bro,” Daniel says, hugging her back. “Will you come to my patch party?”
“I’ll have to check my schedule.”
He shakes his head with a smile. “You really are a prick, Dean.”
G ravel crunches beneath our boots as we spread out and close in on the single-story ranch. It’s set pretty far back from the road and surrounded by trees.
Slice gives me a nod before signaling to his crew.
We aren’t just walking up to the front door.
This is going to be a coordinated attack from each point of entry.
Viking, Legion, and I will take the front door, weapons ready, while Slice and his crew peel off toward the back, leaving Roach and Blade to cover the windows on the sides, should anyone attempt to escape.
We wait for the signal that Slice is in position at the back door. Once we hear it, we stealthily ascend the faded wooden deck.
Blade mimics a whippoorwill’s call… They’re in position.
I nod to Viking, silently mouthing three…two…one…
Viking steps back and drives his boot into the front door, splintering the wood on impact. The door flies open with a loud crack, and chaos erupts as we charge inside, guns drawn.
Several half-dressed guys immediately dive for cover, shouting for their buddies in the back of the house. Viking and I keep our guns on this group, while Legion covers us in case anyone in the back decides to be a hero.
Three guys slowly emerge from the hall, hands on the backs of their heads, held at gunpoint by Slice and his two Sergeant at Arms.
“Out! Now!” Slice bellows, “You pricks, too. Get up and get the fuck out!”
Viking and I grab two guys, hauling them to their feet and shoving them toward the front door. They stumble, raising their hands, still trying to process what is happening.
“ Not tonight, asshole!” Legion hisses, suddenly grabbing a fistful of hair on one of the guys still kneeling on the ground.
He slams him face-first into the coffee table, then wrenches him back to land on his ass, dazed and with a bloody nose.
I catch a glimpse of the shotgun under the couch he must have tried for and offer Legion an appreciative nod.
“Not trying to die or make Vanna a widow tonight,” he growls, glaring at me as if he resents the fact I’m here. He’s right. I shouldn’t be here. Not with a wife and kid at home. And he shouldn’t be here either. Not with a hair-trigger contingency plan that could land Axel and Viking in prison.
Within moments, we have the place emptied, and we line the crew up, face down in the dirt a few yards from where we parked the bikes. Hopefully, for all of our sakes, it’s a safe enough distance from what’s about to happen next.
Slice cocks his chin at Legion. “Do it.”
Without hesitation, Legion grabs the duffel bag strapped to his bike and slings it over his shoulder. “This will take a few minutes to set up,” he says, before sprinting back into the ranch.
The rest of us stand guard, tension building as time ticks on before Legion finally returns.
He folds up what now appears to be a mostly empty duffel bag and stuffs it into one of the saddle bags on his bike, then removes a small handheld radio.
He flips it over and opens the back to insert a couple of batteries.
After clipping it shut, he extends the antenna and glances once more at Slice, who only nods.
“Very well,” Legion sighs, moving his thumb to hover over the detonation button. With far less enthusiasm compared to the last time I heard him shout the words, Legion mutters, “ Fire in the hole...”
The explosion tears through the night, and a blast of heat and fire swallows the ranch as shattered wood and debris rain down. Slice and his guys mount their bikes, ready to take off.
“Tell the motherfuckers you work for there won’t be any cooking or dealing in Jocsan County!” Slice snarls at the crew who are still face down on the ground, covering their heads with their arms to protect themselves.
I swing a leg over my bike just as I hear a gunshot split through the chaos from somewhere beyond the burning structure.
Shit… I snap my head toward the source in time to see shadows moving between the trees. There must be guys stationed nearby keeping watch.
Another bullet tears through the air and strikes metal, sparking off Legion’s handlebars with a high-pitched ping! He instinctively ducks and fires up the bike.
“Split off!” I shout to Slice. “They can’t follow all of us!”
I twist Serene’s throttle, and her back tire spits gravel before she lunges down the trail. When we reach the main road, Slice and his crew veer off in the direction of their clubhouse. Viking, Legion, and I head in the opposite direction.
The roar of our bikes echoes off the trees lining the empty stretch of highway as we push our engines to their limits.
Beside me, Legion is hunched over his Indian, his jaw tight, his knuckles white around the grips.
His bike screams beneath him, keeping pace with Serene.
I glance over my shoulder, confirming for myself that Viking is still with us, too.
As I turn my attention back to the highway in front of us, I see Legion’s body jerk forward, his hand snapping off the throttle, and his engine sputters.
Everything happens within a fucking heartbeat.
“Shit!” Legion hisses over the wind, his rough voice barely reaching me.
Before his bike stalls, his left hand shoots down, grabbing hold of the frayed cable.
He manages to wrap it around his fist, yanking it tight, and his engine roars back to life, surging the bike forward.
I watch with a mixture of horror and awe as Legion holds on, manually controlling the speed with nothing but raw grip strength.
I should laugh in his face. Part of me wants to. He’s a cocky prick who acts like he’s an invincible badass… But damn, if he isn’t proving he can back it up… Quite literally taking the reins and riding that machine like it’s an actual steel horse.
I shake my head at him when he glances at me, one hand steering the bike, the other death-gripping the throttle cable, his body twisted in a way that just screams disaster waiting to happen. But he’s doing it. Fighting the odds like he always does.
“ Yeehaw!” he lifts his chin and shouts to the moon like he’s back in the wild west.
“I gotta admit,” I raise my voice so he can hear me over the engines and wind whipping past us, “For a second there I thought you were a goner!”
He doesn’t look at me, just bares his teeth in something between a grin and a grimace. “I’d say I’m sorry to disappoint you, but that would be a lie, and rather unfortunate for Axel!”
T he rolling garage door to my shop rattles as I lift it open while Viking parks his Fatboy next to Serene and dismounts to help Legion get his bike inside.
Legion barely made it into my lot before his left hand gave out.
The throttle cable slips from his fingers, and he lets out a sharp breath.
He flexes his shaking hand for a moment before sucking up the pain and grabbing the handlebars to push it inside.
After kicking the stand down, he steps back from the bike, slowly lifting his hand to have a better look at it under the lights.
Legion’s palm is a little sliced up, thin red lines running across his skin where the wire had bitten in. His whole arm is trembling, the muscles locking up from holding the tension for so damn long.
“Sit down.” I nod at an old workbench. “I’ll fix it. Viking, why don’t you grab us a couple a beers and the first aid kit for Billy the Kid , here.”
“The roadhouse is still open another couple of hours. I can relieve Dozer from bouncer duty if you want and send a girl over with the beers and the kit,” Viking says.
I glance at him curiously. “If that’s what you want to do.”
Viking cocks his head slightly to the side, indicating he’d like me to step outside with him for a moment.
“Legion, there’s a bathroom right there in the hall if you want to wash those cuts out,” I say.
Without a word, Legion gets up from the workbench and heads to the bathroom while Viking and I step outside in the lot.
“What’s the matter?” I ask.
“Gotta admit, the guy’s a fucking badass,” Viking grumbles.
“He has his moments. But so, what?”
“ So, I don’t want to like anything about him. I don’t want to hang out with him. He’s still a prick and…well… I just don’t want to, bro, damn .”
“Alright, I’m not gonna hold a gun to your head. I’ll see you in the bar in a little while. This throttle cable won’t take too long to repair.”
When I step back into my shop, Legion’s sitting on the bench, letting his injured hand rest on his knee, his fingers still twitching from the strain. He looks tired, and there’s still a slight tremble in his arm as the adrenaline wears off.
“I don’t know if I trust you to work on my bike,” he sneers, but I know he’s only half joking.
“Pretty fucked up that I’ve come to be the least of your worries.”
Legion chuckles, but the humor quickly fades from his expression. “This was the strike that will elicit a response.”
I nod, making my way over to the tool chest to grab some needle-nose plyers, a screwdriver, and a wrench. “I know.”
“They won’t initially suspect the Saviors.”
“Well, it happened in Jocsan. The Jokers’ territory.”
“Your allegiance is widely known.”
“I’m aware.” I sigh, stepping back to his bike to disconnect the battery and remove the throttle housing on the handlebars.
When I glance at Legion, he’s staring at the picture of Vanna and Ace I have hung up on the wall.
Normally, it would piss me off, but the worried expression in his eyes tempers my anger.
“I tried not to love her, you know,” Legion says. “I tried very, very hard.”