Chapter Seven
Seven
The roar of pipes was loud and growing louder with each passing minute.
The townspeople were used to the Headed for Hell club members riding their motorcycles through town, but it was rarely more than six or seven of them traveling together to the clubhouse located outside of town at the bottom of the mountain.
It was a sprawling compound housing the clubhouse itself and several outbuildings.
Only club members were allowed on the property, or if they held one of their wild parties, certain women were welcome.
The noise of the bikes sounded like thunder.
Two men, Jude Harrison and Knox Bigolow, wearing Headed for Hell colors, rushed out of the hardware store as the motorcycles entered the main street.
The bikers were riding two abreast and they meant business.
Not one wore a Headed for Hell cut. Motorcycle after motorcycle moved through town, ignoring the stop signs.
The numbers kept coming. Each of the riders wore a jacket declaring they were members of Torpedo Ink.
They looked to be at least forty strong.
The two members of the Headed for Hell club ducked out the back of the store, confiscated a truck, and tore down a back road toward their compound.
It looked as if they were going to war. That show of force from the Torpedo Ink club, wearing their colors and invading Headed for Hell territory, meant they’d come looking for trouble.
Torpedo Ink was a support club of the Diamondbacks.
No one fucked with the Diamondbacks and lived to tell about it.
There were rumors about Torpedo Ink. No one ever wanted those men to get them in their sights. Some said they did all the wet work for the Diamondbacks. Whatever the reason they were there, the Headed for Hell club president, Sid Baily, had to know immediately.
Jude leapt from the truck and raced to the clubhouse, ignoring several of his brothers, nearly shoving them out of the way, all the while yelling for Sid.
The president of his club came out of one of the back rooms looking smug, which meant he just got laid.
“What the hell, Jude?”
“We’ve got trouble. It will be here in about five minutes. Torpedo Ink just rode in, all wearing colors. Forty strong. Could be more. I could see Caspar / Sea Haven on some of the cuts and Trinity on the others. Two full chapters. They’re loaded for bear.”
Sid was already putting out the call to the members to get back to the clubhouse.
He had a bad feeling his club was in trouble.
He had only minutes to figure out a way to play this.
If he tried being a hard-ass, demanding Torpedo Ink remove their cuts, he had the feeling they would all die.
He hadn’t just heard rumors about Torpedo Ink, he’d made it his business to find out if it was true that they were possibly more lethal than the Diamondbacks.
And forty strong? That sounded like Torpedo Ink had grown overnight.
Was this a takeover? Sid had been careful to stay out of trouble with the other clubs.
He’d reined his men in when they left their territory.
He had them play by the rules. They’d had a sweet deal going, making good money.
They’d had good connections. They hadn’t wanted another larger club realizing they were in a superior position to run certain product.
Things hadn’t worked out the way they were supposed to, and now their club was in even more trouble.
“Clear the women out of here,” he snapped to his vice president, Cohen Marks.
“We’ll take a meet with them. Get some of our men up into the rafters to back us up.
We’ll have to move fast if we’re going to catch them with their pants down.
” He turned to glare at his sergeant at arms. “Warren, you stick close to me.”
Warren was without a doubt the toughest man on the crew.
He didn’t take shit from anyone, and when they needed information, he was the man to extract it fast. He always got what they wanted.
But every single club knew of Torpedo Ink’s enforcers.
Savage, Destroyer and Savage’s brother, Reaper.
The word had rapidly spread through clubs that the three men could take apart anyone.
They knew more ways than most to get information.
That had come straight from members of the Diamondbacks and Venomous clubs.
Sid could hear the roar of the bikes now.
It sounded like hell coming up his road.
He leveled his gaze on the club members waiting.
He had fifteen standing in front of him.
Four had gone up into the rafters to cover them.
When the clubhouse had been built, they had included four stations for just this purpose, putting their best shooters above them to protect the club members.
He made his way out to the porch to watch the riders come in.
He studied the men as Torpedo Ink arrived, looking full-out ready for war and not making any bones about it.
It was intimidating to say the least. The bikes swept into the yard, one after another, some crossing the yard to outbuildings.
Then a group broke off, running, sniper rifles in plain sight as they went up the sides of the buildings and gained the rooftops.
It was done in under thirty seconds. Worse, he heard the roar of pipes behind the clubhouse, coming from the mountain trail.
Few people knew of that back road, their fail-safe to get out should there be a reason.
This looked like a pretty damn good reason, but they were trapped.
When had Torpedo Ink grown so large? Two full chapters and it sounded like a third coming in from behind. The Diamondbacks? Who? His club was in trouble. He had to find a way to de-escalate the situation.
Sid waited, his expression unchanging. This was his territory. His men. Torpedo Ink had invaded, and they were in the wrong. That wasn’t going to keep him alive, but if there was an investigation, everyone in town had seen the colors flashing past. That would count for something.
Czar swung off his bike, his enforcers moving in perfect sync with him. Sid had never seen that done before and was impressed. He kept his mask on, but indicated with a wave of his hand for Czar to join him on the porch.
“Not sure what this is about, but you’re welcome. We’ll figure it out,” he greeted.
Czar was wearing sunglasses and he pulled them off his face, his eyes meeting Sid’s.
Sid’s heart nearly stopped. He was looking at a killer.
Not a man who occasionally had to kill, but someone who was good at it.
Who knew what he was doing and didn’t hesitate.
And he wasn’t happy. Whatever the reason Torpedo Ink was there, Sid knew it wasn’t good.
“Came looking for one of my boys, Sid. We’ll go inside, and you’re going to tell me exactly where he is and why you put a fuckin’ hit out on him.”
Nothing could have shocked him more. He wasn’t that stupid.
None of his brothers were that insane. A member of Torpedo Ink?
Support club to the Diamondbacks? It was rumored Plank and Czar were tight.
But there were a lot of rumors, and then there was this.
Those unforgiving eyes, nearly silver, piercing through him like a couple of laser beams.
“Let’s go inside, where it’s more comfortable.
Don’t have a clue what you’re talking about, and I know my brothers’ business.
None of my boys would order a hit on a member of your club.
We wouldn’t have any reason to. If there was a beef, I’d go to you personally and if not satisfied, I’d take it to the council. ” Sid was sincere because he meant it.
Savage and Reaper stepped directly in front of Czar, entering first behind Sid.
Sid waved Warren off. There would be no one attempting to disarm any member of Torpedo Ink.
That way lay disaster. Maestro and Destroyer followed Czar, and several other members came in, but they didn’t take seats.
They moved into strategic locations, where they could catch all members of Sid’s crew in a cross fire.
“Just so you know,” Czar said, “because I wouldn’t want you to think you have any advantage here, the four men you had hidden in the rafters are taking naps, and their weapons have been confiscated until we’re out of here.”
He sat down at the table with Sid but leaned over it, looking him directly in the eye. “I’m not fucking around. I want my brother back, and he’d better be in one piece.”
Sid caught sight of Destroyer and froze. “That one of yours?” He indicated the big man who clearly was wearing a Torpedo Ink cut.
“Yeah, he’s one of mine. He came here on vacation looking out for his brother, who needed some personal time. Had his back. They came home, but Keys met some bitch and kept coming back to see her. That isn’t a crime, Sid. He had every right to see his woman.”
“He didn’t give me the courtesy of introducing himself and telling me he was in my territory.”
Czar’s expression became even grimmer, if that was a possibility. “He took off his colors. Sign of respect. You know that isn’t easy. He was careful with your crew, never engaged, at least that’s what Destroyer said.”
Sid wasn’t about to call Destroyer a liar. He had the feeling Czar would pull out a gun and shoot him in the face. The rage in the man was palpable.
“I know he’s in trouble; he called. Five fuckin’ men tried to kill him and his woman. They’re dead. All five of them. But he isn’t home. I want him home, Sid.”
Sid made up his mind. He hadn’t ordered a hit on anyone.
It wasn’t his business. He leaned over the table and looked Czar in the eye.
All he had to do was maintain innocence and this problem would go away.
When he leaned forward, Savage and Reaper both alerted.
No one wanted either of those two men targeting them.
He sat up straighter and tried to look as innocent as possible.