I ran to the door, knowing good news doesn’t come calling at three in the morning.
“Jag, what’s up?” His expression was serious as fuck, sober and stone cold.
“There was a break-in at Bungalow Three,” he said referring to one of the whorehouses the club owned. “They slapped around a few of the girls but when more guys arrived, they began shooting. A few guys are injured but those fuckers are locked in with the girls. Backup is needed.”
Rocky appeared at my side, wrapped in a silky, flowered robe. “Sorry about all this,” she told Jag.
“Don’t apologize for that, ever. Just keep my godchild safe in there, yeah?”
She smiled sheepishly and nodded. “I’m doing my best.” Rocky turned to me and cupped one side of my face, green eyes shining with worry and affection. “Don’t worry about me, a few words will only piss me off. Stay safe, Lasso.” She patted her belly. “This little guy and me? We’re counting on you.”
I turned my face into her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm. “I’ll keep you safe.”
“I know. You guys be safe and I’ll place a few more calls to fulfill my promise to my ex.”
I grinned and left with Jag, smiling as I thought about how fucking tough Rocky was. Tougher than even she realized. I gave Jag a quick rundown of the phone call with Genesis and his eyes bugged out of his head.
“Cross’ll be pissed that you disobeyed him.”
We hopped on our bikes. “He can be pissed all he wants. She made the first round of calls on our way back from Idaho.” Jag smiled, started his bike and we made our way to Bungalow Three. From the outside it looked like a big ass tiki hut, complete with thatched fucking roof in the middle of the desert. We slowed near the entrance, pulling our bikes up near the others at the wooden gate.
Cross was waiting when we hopped off.
“Did you check that shit over there?” I asked. “A few Roadk
ill vests mixed in with the Killer Aces.”
“Yeah I saw it,” he grumbled and rubbed a hand over his face, calculating how much damage we could do with the guys already here against at least a dozen that we could see.
Stitch sauntered over with a deadly serious expression on his face. “I got some semi-autos in the back of the truck, Prez.” With an ortho boot on his ankle from a bar fight, Stitch jerked his thumb at his antique Chevy, his smile as shiny as new fucking tires. “Want me to get’em?”
“Fuck yeah,” Cross nodded, scanning the area around the building in search of more backup.
Stitch howled with glee. “Let’s fuck up some shit, boys!” He limped his tall ass to the Chevy and lifted the southwest print blanket in back to reveal a dozen automatic weapons.
“Can’t take the redneck out of the biker, that’s for fucking sure,” Jag joked, smacking Stitch on the back. “I think your math is off man, there are only five of us.”
He picked up two, strapping one over each shoulder.
“Two for me since I got a gimp leg,” Stitch said, “the rest of you fuckers take what you can handle.”
Savior grabbed two and handed the rest over to us, staring at each of us until everyone was silent with their eyes on him. “Jag and Stitch, you stay out here and pick’em off as they exit. Careful of the girls. Golden Boy will go around back with me. Max, Cross and Lasso will go through the front. Eyes alert boys, kill any kutte that’s not our own and meet up by Stitch’s ugly ass truck.”
“Fuck you,” he said, smiling wide with one gun perched on his shoulder.
We broke apart and executed orders perfectly with me bringing up the rear. We entered the house, checking every fucking room. Left room, clear. Right, clear each of us yelled out as we cleared the rooms, mostly of naked hookers just trying to earn a living in the middle of this shit show.
“Clear,” Max called out behind me just as a Killer Ace stepped into the hall six feet from me. My gun went up and I squeezed the trigger in two tight bursts, dropping that asshole to the ground.
“Clear,” I yelled back to the sound of Savior chuckling. “Head outside to Jag,” I told the girls because they all loved his quiet ass. We headed to the second floor, performing the same actions but this time I could hear the heavy footfalls of motorcycle boots.
A scream sounded to my left and I kicked the door in and ducked, missing a spray of bullets but returning fire, hitting a Roadkill member in the leg. “Shit!”
“Go find Jag,” I yelled to two more girls in nothing but lacy panties and panicked glances as they ran by. Max moved ahead of me, his big body blocking my view.
Another girl tried to run past, but the hall was too narrow and she paused, big blue eyes looking tired and terrified. “There are three guys in the suite at the end of the hall with two of our newbies.”
“Thanks sweetheart. Jag is waiting out front. Be careful and take any other women you see with you.” I looked down and noticed the blade clutched in her hand. “Use it on anyone who’s not a Reckless Bastard.”