Hard Rider

“I can help you find the goddamn thing,” I replied. “You know that I can. Just give me a chance to help you and–”

Talon covered his face with a cough, undergoing a particular nasty fit. He hunched with the strain, and things started clicking in my brain as I watched him. He glared down at me, continuing to try and stifle his coughing with a fist.

I could see it now – the way he bent his back sometimes, the way his voice rattled in his chest...

“You’re dying, aren’t you?”

Talon stiffened up, his dark eyes piercing the air. He held me in his gaze for several seconds, the intensity of his retinas burning into mine.

“Yes, boy,” he growled. “I am dying.”

A hint of sadness temporarily overcame me. I could see how the years were gnarling him on the inside. Criminal lord or not, Talon was–

“No,” he snarled. “Don’t you dare.”

“Don’t what?”

“Pity,” the wicked biker club president groaned as he relaxed into his throne. “Hunter Hargreaves, don’t you fucking pity me or I’ll make sure you’re fucking waiting for me in Hell…”

The window was closing, and I knew it.

“Talon, I can help you,” I replied quickly. “Whatever’s happening here, I’m a Devil’s Dragon. Some of my men still remember the things you have done, but they’ll follow me. Just say the word, and I’ll pledge my help. We can help each other!”

Talon lifted his bearded chin, his lips pulling into a defiant, toothy grin. Before he even uttered the words, I knew his answer.

“You are no Devil’s Dragon,” Talon sneered. “I have ex-communicated you and your miserable band of sewer scum from my organization. You are incredibly lucky that I’m learning who your bitch is now… Otherwise she would have never left this port in one piece…”

“You’re threatening my woman and my future child,” I reminded him gravely.

“It is amusing to me that your luck has held out for as long as it has,” Talon replied coolly. “You have attacked a dangerous cartel – twice, always coming out ahead. You survived a police raid that claimed the lives of your superiors. You escaped into the desert to live another day and took command of a club you had no right to… And your woman is still alive even though she lied to my fucking face. Hunter, tell me,” he smiled evilly. “What happens the day that your luck runs out?”

The malice in his words was clear as day.

He was never going to help me.

I was all out of cards to play…

“When that day comes, Talon,” I replied as calmly as I could, a confident smile crossing my face, “I hope you pray to whatever Gods you answer to that you are nowhere near me.”

“Such conviction for someone with no power here,” Talon countered almost aloofly.

“I came to you man to man. No weapons, no bullshit. I live by the same rules you do. I’ve given you information, and I’ve showed you respect. With my woman in danger, the past is behind us…

“I’m here to help you, Talon. You call on my Dragons, and we will be here for yours.”

“How touching,” he chuckled with a staggered cough. “The rightful Devil’s Dragons can handle this alone.” With a click of his fingers, he added: “Men… escort this motherfucker out.”

Sarah

Three Hours Ago

I should have done a lot more research on this fucking place, I thought bitterly to myself.

Twelve hours of driving had really taken it out of me. Even after taking the occasional power-nap in the car on the long trek here, I was absolutely exhausted from the drive.

My reward was that I’d made it to the Port of Los Angeles. Now, the trouble was finding out exactly where I needed to go.

The port was massive, sprawling in every direction. It must have been miles upon miles long, with possibly hundreds of warehouses along the coast, all variously nondescript and lacking much visible distinction.

In layman’s terms, I was basically fucked.

There was no telling where the Los Angeles Devil’s Dragons were, let alone their leader.

What didn’t help was that nobody was willing to offer a hand. I noticed some dockworkers out and about, performing their work and surveying the docks. None were too receptive to my questions, and I realized that I wasn’t sure where to start.

It was a goddamn needle in a haystack.

Not just any haystack. That was too easy. This particular haystack stretched out towards the horizon in every conceivable direction…

After the first hour of walking around and asking questions, a grumpy old fucker with a clipboard overheard me losing my temper. He looked like some kind of a shipyard supervisor, and he was pissed.

“What the blazes are you yammering about?” He grumbled, smacking the clipboard against a shipping container. “And for God’s sakes, woman, how the fuck did you get in here? What kind of security are they putting on this place?”

“I’m looking for the Devil’s Dragons motorcycle club,” I told him after calming down.

He glanced at me for a moment, his face stonewalling in the instant. “Can’t help you there. Never heard of ‘em. Now beat it, before I call the cops.”

“Of course you haven’t,” I groaned. “How the fuck am I supposed to find Talon in all of this?”

The supervisor paused.

“What did you just say?”

I searched his eyes for a moment. “I’m looking for an old bastard who goes by ‘Talon.’ He’s the leader of the Devil’s Dragons motorcycle club, and I know he controls this port…”

“So, you’re the girl?” He asked curiously and quietly, his eyes narrowing.

I didn’t know what the hell he was talking about, but I knew the answer that was going to get me answers instead of wandering around this godforsaken port another couple of hot, boring hours.

“Yeah. I’m the girl. And I need to speak to Talon.”

The supervisor looked me over.

After a moment, he glanced around, ensuring that nobody else was listening in. Satisfied, he lowered his face and whispered. “He told me you might be coming… You’ll want to be real careful before you meet the man you want to find. I can make the call, but you have to be certain you can handle yourself.”

“I can handle myself,” I replied indignantly.

The supervisor straightened up.

“Your funeral, little miss.”

With that, he walked over the way he’d come, popping open a box on a support beam. Lifting a phone receiver to his ear, he spoke quietly, throwing a glance my way.

A minute later, he was back.

“Someone’s on their way. Remember… show him the proper reverence, and be careful. The leader of the Devil’s Dragons doesn’t stand for disrespect in his presence…”

“I told you, I can handle myself.”

He chuckled and shook his hand, walking off. “Can’t say you don’t have spirit, kid. Good luck, and I hope you come back alive…”

Maybe I AM in over my head.

It was maybe twenty minutes later that a burly biker pulled up nearby, scanning his surroundings until I came into sight.

“Are you her?”

In search of real answers, I decided to keep playing along. Faced with the biker’s obvious skepticism, I felt that giving him a little bit of attitude might help the charade.

“I’m here to see Talon, dick-wipe. Who else would be stepping onto this disgusting fucking dock?”

He narrowed his eyes.

“Hop on.”

It was strange to me to climb onto the back of a motorcycle that wasn’t Hunter’s, but I did as I was told. Seconds later, we were heading down the concrete paths, dodging surprised workers and gliding between long metal boxes, warehouses, and small building units. It appeared that our destination was a raised building in the distance, dwarfing its surroundings and crowded by what looked like a few warehouses.

Fifteen minutes of riding later, we pulled up at the foot o

f the building, surrounded by walls made of storage containers. I climbed off the back of the motorcycle and turned to show my rider some gratitude.

“Thanks for the–”

The motorcycle’s engine revved a few times, and the biker roared off around the corner and far, far away.

“Alright, fucker,” I grumbled.

“If that’s the kind of respect you show, you might want to consider pulling up your big girl britches and leaving the way you came,” an older voice called out to me.

I turned around to see a thin, chuckling biker nearby, occupying a doorway.

“Are you Talon?”

The biker laughed riotously, wiping at his face before turning and leaving. The doorway stood open, and nothing else nearby was making a sound, so I reluctantly followed him into the building.

I walked past a few bikers in what appeared to be a makeshift bar, slapped together into this metal building. A punked-out bartender smirked as I passed by, leaning on her elbows against the countertop to get a better look at me.