Page 48 of Striker

By the time the sun sets, I’ve lost count of the hours we’ve spent in the saddle. It’s been a vicious, repeating cycle of breach, question, burn, and ride to the next location. I don’t mind because each new location gets us one step closer to finding my old lady.

“That’s five,” Mica says.

And five is the magical number for our little band of raiders. That’s when we put the squeeze on a crew member responsible for transporting Delaney’s meth. Mica was particularly brutal this time. I can almost see the moment the poor man decides that whatever his big boss will do to him is tomorrow’s problem, and we’re a problem in the here and now.

“Roderick had me bring groceries to that derelict cement plant on Blanche Road. The old man kept that property because it was quiet and nobody had a reason to go there.”

I immediately pull the satellite view up on my phone to have a look at the lay of the land. Staring down at the image, I realize this is where they’re holding my old lady, the mother of my child. Cold satisfaction slams through my brain. Tonight is the night I take back what’s mine and make the fuckers who took her pay.

“Mount up,” Rock says, already turning for his bike.

Somewhere along the way, our group of riders swells to forty brothers. All of us are packing and out for blood. The ride there through the cool night air is just what I need to clear my head. Priority number one is to locate and extract the women safely. Once they’re safe, it’ll be retribution time.

We approach the cement plant quietly with our lights off and our engines low. It doesn’t matter because they’re clearly expecting us. They’re prepared: there are snipers on the roof and at least a dozen men roaming around outside. Someone must have alerted them we were coming.

Rock’s hand comes up, and forty men go still in the dark. When he gives the go-ahead, we creep slowly along the tree line. We’ve all got our part to play and know it by heart because we’ve practiced it so many times over the last couple of days.

“Take it,” he says, and we do exactly that. Forty brothers circle the property. Slate takes out the snipers one at a time and chaos ensues. We all converge on the office, picking off members of Delaney’s crew who get in our way. It ain’t a pretty fight. It’s messy, bloody, and exactly what we all signed up for tonight.

We come through the front and back doors as well as the loading bay at the same time, meeting heavy resistance on the inside. His crew fights hard, I’ll give them that, because they’ve got nowhere to run. A big mountain of a man comes straight for me swinging a thick steel pipe. I reckon he’s run out of ammo and is making do with whatever he can get his hands on as a weapon. It slams into my shoulder with enough force to send me staggering back a step. When he comes at me to finish the job, I put him down with two rounds and keep moving, because none of it matters except finding Beth and getting her outta here in one piece.

Around me the brothers in both clubs do what we do best. A bullet grazes across Onyx’s side, but he doesn’t slow down. One of Mica’s Vultures goes down hard. Two of his club brothers drag him back behind cover while they continue shooting. Several brothers go down because in an all-out brawl like this blood gets spilled on both sides. That’s how you know the fight is real.

But the reality is there are forty of us and a couple dozen of them. Me and my club brothers are experienced fighters and aren’t afraid to pull the trigger. Delaney’s crew is no match for us. They’re outnumbered and outgunned. We’re fighting for our loved ones and they’re fighting for cold, hard cash. That’s another thing that tips the battle in our favor.

After working my way across the kill floor, I find Beth. The fuckers have chained her to a fire door at the end of one of the back hallways. She’s pressing herself into the corner where the wall meets the steel door frame. My heart stops for a second because she’s alive and whole, but clearly terrified. Her eyes are closed and she’s mumbling something under her breath.

I race down the hallway, reach out to touch her and open my mouth to tell her everything’s going to be okay. She freaks out, begins pulling at her bound wrists and kicking at me like a wild woman.

“Beth, it’s me. Calm down, darlin’.”

She freezes for a second before her eyes pop open. “You came for me,” she says with the kind of relief in her voice that makes me want to beat the shit out of her captors.

“Me and forty club brothers. It’s all over but the cryin’ at this point.”

I give her a tight hug.

“You came,” she says again.

“Of fuckin’ course I came for you. You’re my old lady.”

She tears up as my hands move down to get the chains off her. I find one sturdy padlock, pull out my kit, and start picking the lock while we talk.

“Did you find Queenie?”

“No, but I’m pretty fuckin’ sure Rock did.”

“We’ve got to make sure. I think that old man who hired Roderick to stalk and abduct me has a thing for her. He acts like he wants to keep her.”

I can’t help but chuckle. “What the actual fuck? Queenie would kill the fucker in his sleep.”

Finally, the lock clicks open and I untangle the chains, pissed at the bruises they’ve left behind. Reaching out to run one finger gently over a bruise on her arm, I tell her, “Whoever did this will pay for it.”

“If you look for him, he’ll be easy to find. He’s as big as a house,” she tells me.

My head jerks up to look into her eyes. “I already checked that fucker off my list, so mission fuckin’ accomplished, I guess.”

I hit the push bar because I want to get her out of the building without crossing the kill floor with her. Unfortunately, the door doesn’t budge. Some dipshit locked the fuckin’ fire door. I’ve never seen anyone lock a fire escape route before. It’s complete fuckin’ madness.