Broken Ride (Men of Valor MC)

"Beg for it," I sneered at the piece of shit. The guy wasn't so brave now that his jaw was out of place. Just as I was about to punch him again, sirens sounded and flashed as two cop cars pulled to a stop right in front of us. Guns came out as they screamed something, probably demanding I freeze, but I was in the zone, barely registering their demands. Plus, the hearing aid for my good ear had come out in the scuffle and was probably crushed in the gravel beneath our boots. Fine with me, I had no desire to hear the last breath of a sex trafficker. The police probably would have shot me right then and there if there wasn't a crowd from the local pub surrounding us. Thing with the MC is, it can be hard for the fuzz to tell the good guys from the bad guys. I didn’t give a shit if they locked me away. I’d had more mugshots taken than school pictures over the years. My rap sheet was long and I didn’t lose any sleep over it.

"Patriot, you better stop!" a girl in the crowd shrieks. Her voice is so high-pitched that it comes in clear. I can hear the sirens, her shrieks, feel the rumble of the bikes through the ground. All my senses are on high alert. I sniff up blood that’s dripping from my nose and then wipe it away with the back of my hand. I still haven’t dropped the perp and for all I know, my grip is tight enough to steal his last breath from this earth. He doesn’t deserve to take it after all the innocence he’s stolen.

I looked up and made direct eye contact with the cops. “Drop him,” one tells me.

I knew the police weren't as bad as they once were in this town, the MC made sure of that, but I still didn't know if these two were on my side; you never could tell. I didn't trust cops after a lifetime of experience. They had their own brotherhood and there was no way to read the dynamics of what they’d sworn to or who they were protecting. I preferred justice on my own terms, by my fist or my boot. The people I dealt with didn’t deserve the quickness of a bullet, or the luxury of death row. Three hots and a cot were too good for some folks.

I’d learned at a young age not to trust the police. It wasn't hard to do when it was a cop who put you in the hospital more times than you could count, but I also remember the good guy who saved me.

I dropped the lifeless body of the punk on the ground and raised my hands. I was lit up in the glare of their headlights, blood on my face, my long hair entangled with the blood. A fine mist began to fall and in the blinding light, it almost looked like snow. I didn't care if they shot me, death wasn't something I feared. My only concern was not bringing heat onto the club. I’d protect my brothers with my own last breath if I could.

"He's part of the MC," the younger cop said, his hand shaking a little before he turned to his partner. "Cuff him and toss him in the back of the cruiser," he said, tossing his friend the metal. “You never can tell with these guys, but the deceased is probably part of this sex trafficking ring they’ve been systematically taking down. Bet you my overtime this guy is the next in command after the last one they killed.”

I turned around with my hands still up. I could feel the man's hands shaking as he pulled my arms behind me and slapped the cold metal on my wrists. Perceptive little fuckers these guys were, I wondered how long it would actually take them if we didn’t do the job for them.

"Just call the MC," I said before he began reading me my rights. My voice came out in a husky crack. I cleared my throat, hoping it was intelligible. I controlled the sound of my voice by how it felt in my throat.

The cop yanked me with him over to the cruiser and opened the back door. I went in without a fight. I wasn't worried about the charges sticking, but I also didn't want to make a scene. Fuck if I’d resist arrest or give them a reason to hate on the club. The crowd was still gathered, all eyes on me, and it would be over my dead body that I would bring a bad rep to the brotherhood. These bystanders didn't know that if it wasn't for the MC that they'd still be ruled by the scum that owned these streets, lock their wives and kids in at night to keep them from disappearing off the streets. I tilted my head back and closed my eyes, the adrenaline fading now in the back of the car as my heartbeat slowed and I coughed on the blood that slid down the back of my throat. It was always the same, the rush of the moment, the high from the hit, then the despair set in. Not over the rat I’d taken out, but rather the plain ugliness of existence, the abject dirty world and the bad people who lived in it. The endless fight to take out the evil and protect the innocent. You needed to be around goodness to know it and to feel it. It had been so long for me, I wasn’t even sure if I’d recognize it. I looked out the window and up into the sky as tiny knives of rainwater fell illuminated by the streetlights. I always looked skyward for good.