The entire crowd was silent as they listened to his speech. I watched as Hunter captivated them, his movements focused, powerful, and symbolic.
“Víboras Verde has taken over fifteen girls in the last two weeks, stealing them away across the border to be left to their fates. But now… we know where they’re going, and it’s closer than we suspected.”
“And how about you tell me something I give a shit about?” The elderly biker called out suddenly, his previous mirth stricken from his stony gaze. “What about the money?”
“They’ll be plenty of money. These assholes are stacking it to the ceiling and we’re gonna hit them right where it hurts. I want the girls, you can split the money.”
To this, engines revved all around, the deafening roar filling the air.
“Juarez lays just south of El Paso, our sister in the South. The cartel is taking the girls to a new safe house ten miles west of the city limits. We take that building and you get to pin a goddamned good samaritan badge on your cut while you stuff your saddle bags with cash… And that’s money nobody on either side of the border is going to be looking for. We’re talking forty million if my source is reliable…”
The elderly president spoke up again. “What is your plan… and what would you have us do?”
Hunter glanced around the assembled bikers again, surveying his manpower resources. After a moment, he turned back towards us again with eyes full of burning conviction.
Several of the men nodded, and I merely crossed my arms and flashed him a smile.
You’ve got this, I thought aloud to him.
Hunter turned back to the assembled biker clubs. “We mobilize as a convoy, cross the border, and take the fight to them again. They won’t expect a counterstrike, and particularly not one so quickly… we’ll hit them hard and definitively, save the girls who were taken last night, and show them that we will defend our young and vulnerable.”
“For that kind of money, I’ll defend your angry goddamned grandmother… but what makes you think this is going to make one fucking lick of difference?” the elderly biker replied. “You hit them before,” he said, stroking the long, wispy scruff of goatee beneath his chin. “And that only drove them away for a few years… what makes you think that this will be any different?”
“There’s a reason we’re talking about so much money here. The cartel is moving further north to centralize themselves closer to the border,” Hunter replied. “This new safe house is being fleshed out into a base of operations. If we can crush them here, tonight, we will sever the viper’s head and scatter its men. One hit, and we take out their finances, their men, and their will to fight.”
“And you think that they will be unprepared?” He scoffed in response. “You’ve attacked them before below the border and they recouped from that. They probably learned their lesson, too. What are your expectations there?”
Hunter reflected on these words, choosing to not answer immediately. The others watched him, prepared to judge him upon his following response…
“I expect them to put up one hell of a fight. This is why I choose to unite us now, calling upon all of you to ride into battle with me… We will sweep through them like an army, and we will show them no mercy for what they have done. You ask me for my expectations? My answer is simple: I expect us to strike Víboras Verde and crush them into the blood-stained dust.”
Even without seeing his face, I could hear the menace in his conviction. He was showing them the extent of how far he was willing to go to snuff out every last trace of these monsters.
“You believe that,” the elderly biker replied, scratching his chin again thoughtfully. “You believe that with every last drop of blood in your body, don’t you?”
Hunter replied: “With every goddamned drop.”
“And you would be willing to lead this charge yourself?”
“I will not allow another to die in my place,” he insisted gravely. “I am asking you – all of you – to ride alongside into battle. But I will never ask you to take a bullet for me.
“I’ll descend into Hell to fight these fuckers and save every last soul that is left… and I will do so at the frontlines.”
The elderly biker descended from his motorcycle and strolled over towards him. While he had been hunched on his bike, the biker uncoiled into a tall, limber creature as he stalked forward.
Gazing down upon Hunter, he smiled.
“I know why you called upon me, Hunter,” he murmured. “Because of the sway I hold. You know that these men respect you, but my opinion is still a factor…
“Regardless, I have listened; you have me convinced. As club president, the Severed Sixteen MC pledges their guns to your cause,” he declared.
Briefly, the rest of the crowd murmured. One by one, the engines of their metal steeds shut down until a cold silence filled the space.
Five other bikers descended from their motorcycles to pledge their clubs. The others were mere representatives of their prospective clubs, acting in the stead of their associated presidents – who deemed themselves too important to join the fight, but were willing to send possibly proxies.
“The Winged Scorpions MC pledges their guns to your cause,” announced the vicious, limber biker who had received the severed finger – the proof of the cartel prisoner’s validity.
The next representative – a portly, balding biker of considerable age – approached and avowed: “The Moonlight Riders MC pledges their guns to your cause.”
And then, a younger but scarred and clearly experienced biker: “The Black Knights MC pledges their guns to your cause.”
Followed by the tallest, broadest one in the crowd: “The Twin Spears MC pledges their guns to your cause.”
But when it came for the final club representative, I felt my breath catch in my lungs.
The world began to spin, and I felt a couple of the Devil’s Dragons near me grab onto me, holding me upright out of concern. I steadied myself and shrugged them off, but offering a look of gratitude towards them before facing the ghost from my past.
He was close enough that I could spot the emblem on his leathers – the same strange one from long before, including the word President stitched across the bottom.
That emblem belonged to a face that looked like it had barely aged in eight years. However, it was marked with various new scars now, set deep into his face and adding a layer of darkness to his penetrating gaze.
I never thought I’d see that face again…
And, judging by the way that Hunter stiffened when he saw that face as well, it was as much a surprise to him as to me.
“You know, it’s kind of funny,” the haggard biker president chuckled loudly. “I remember the last time I saw you… you were just some little scamp at the big boy table for the first time. Back in a strip club in Phoenix – do you remember that night?”
Hunter remained rigid. “I do.”
“I lost a third of my men that night…” His face turned to stare directly across at me. “Now that I think about it, that was the last night that I saw her, too…”
Every biker in the area hardened up, listening to his words and turning from Hunter to me. Even the bikers closest to me tensed up.
The air filled with mounting dread.
“That woman had nothing to do with it,” Hunter insisted, turning to me. “She was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“Is that so?” He murmured in response.
“That’s so,” Hunter insisted.
In a gasp, I was forced back to that fateful night in a whirl of memories. I distinctly remembered the look on that biker president’s face, seated in the center of the private table, when I inadvertently crashed his meeting.
In the back of a strip club so long ago, the look in his eyes was so striking… a look of amusement and surprise.
Standing before us now, he still looked amused, but that surprise was gone. It was now replaced with something far more akin to hushed, veiled anger.
r /> “For a man known for his word in several states, you are quite the liar in person,” the president replied offhandedly, a wicked smile starting to cross his lips.
“Those are dangerous words to speak to me,” Hunter warned. “Better keep that tongue in check…”
“Oh?” The president murmured, raising his voice to address the entire assembly. “I think the rest of us – your own men included – would like to know who your esteemed guest really is…”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he scowled. “Do I have your allegiance against our mutual enemy, or not?”
“That little cartel might be your enemy,” he chuckled before turning to me, “but my enemy is standing right there.”
Every biker present turned towards me.
The flames of panic flickered at my soul, and I felt them turn to burning, searing hatred… Hunter had asked me to remain silent, but things were spinning wildly out of control.
I had to do something, but it was already too late.
The president grimly replied. “Because your guest here is the daughter of the sheriff who attacked and destroyed both of our clubs.”