Hard Rider

“You think he’d really do that?” The police commissioner asked. “After all that time setting it together?”

“He had a dream to build, and he did it. Now, he’s got his eyes set on a safer world for the kid,” I replied. “A world somewhere a little nicer than the middle of the sunbaked desert.”

They thought this over, chatting quietly among themselves. They didn’t sound very convinced, and I knew the talks were in trouble. Conviction was needed.

Which meant doing something I hated.

I had to take the spotlight.

This entire time, I’d been on the defensive, asking a few questions about their enterprises but mostly taking repeated punches to our club’s reputation. I’d taken each one in stride, but if this were going to work, I’d have to command their attention.

I thought of every moment I’d seen Hunter summon up some kind of rousing speech, and rose from my chair to tell them how it was gonna be.

“I can promise you this much,” I spoke up loudly, halting their discussions. “Hunter Hargreaves is one of the most upstanding men I’ve ever served with – and that includes my time in the Marines.

“He’s got his heart in the right place, and he’s willing to put himself at risk to do what other people won’t, when it’s necessary. He’s got people at his side that will make that call with him. The things we’ve done had some consequences, but we’ve faced terrible enemies, saved countless people, and come out alive on the other side.”

I took a moment to survey their faces before continuing.

“Your hold on this city is in danger, and you know it. There are dangerous criminal organizations out there nipping at your toes. I’ve seen the murder rate, and I know the difference between a gang dispute and a contract killing. The cartels are coming. These are people willing to make their fortunes at any cost, and they’re not going to play nice with this happy little criminal council you’ve built here. You want protection, and the Devil’s Dragons can provide that. We’ve beaten the cartels back in the West, and we’ll beat them back here in New Orleans. We will bleed for you... But we expect something in return,” I said, slapping a hand down on the table.

“And what exactly are you asking for?” the police commissioner asked.

I took my seat while they sat in silence.

“We want a seat at this table. We can provide protection for each and every one of you, but we expect to be paid for our blood and our honor. We can clean out the lowest filth in this city and keep things civilized… but we expect to keep getting paid once peace sets in. Out west, we ran out of battles to fight. I’m hoping you all see that as a good problem to have, and keep us well paid for the services we provide.”

There were murmurs going around the table.

“Well,” Julian chuckled, catching everyone’s attention. “Sounds fair enough to me. Anybody disagree?”

His partners shared a few looks.

“Very well then,” he replied, noting their hesitance. “Unless you have anything else to add, Grizz…”

“I don’t,” I reluctantly answered.

“And there are no more questions…”

The table remained silent.

“Excellent.”

He lifted the receiver of the landline at his hand and dialed a few digits. Almost immediately, the line connected. “Take our esteemed guest for drinks on the house. Whatever he’d like.”

Julian put the phone back down and turned to me, overlooking the others at the table. “Bit of a formality, really. The voting needs to begin, and if your Dragons are allowed the partnership, we wouldn’t want the coming negotiations tarnished by knowing who did and didn’t vote for you.”

“Makes sense.”

The door opened just then. I’d expected a heavy security guard, but to my surprise it was a spry little cocktail waitress who awaited me.

Wanting to be polite, I rose from my chair, bidding the table my brief farewell. “Thank you for your time.”

As the door closed behind me, I couldn’t resist a glance back inside. For a split second, I could have sworn that Old Maggie was grinning mischievously at me.

The waitress politely led me back down to the bartender, and I took my seat at his counter.

“Welcome back,” he slyly smiled. “Miss me already?”

“Something like that,” I grunted, trying to push down my growing apprehension at whatever was going on in that room.

“Drinks are on the house until told otherwise,” the bartender smiled, still obviously trying to eat me with his eyes. “Choose your poison. We have a wide assortment of liquors and drinks…”

“Old Fashioned,” I gruffly replied.

For some reason, I felt a compulsion to check on Kate, and make sure that she was safe… but I knew I couldn’t let that distract me. I could already tell that any of the employees around were keeping an eye on me. They’d never let me slip outside to make a phone call.

Whether or not that mattered…

I wanted to be seen as the professional that I was, especially in this pivotal moment. I kept my phone in my pocket and tried to ignore the growing pit in my stomach.

It was about half an hour before the cocktail waitress stopped at my side again, a friendly grin on her face.

“Boss wants to see you again.”

“Good,” I replied, slapping a twenty down on the counter for the bartender. He’d kept the drinks coming, and they had at least steeled my nerves.

The waitress led me back upstairs to the private conference room, and opened the door for me. She was gone as quickly as she’d appeared, the door shutting behind me.

At Julian’s behest, I rejoined the table.

“My apologies,” he respectfully told me while the others watched. “There was some lengthy discussion in your case.”

I remained silent, my eyes shifting from partner to partner. Which of them voted against the Dragons?

“But the judgment has been made.”

My apprehension only grew.

“And the verdict?”

Julian leaned forward, his face cracking into a wide grin. “There’s room for armed protection in New Orleans and we feel the Devil’s Dragons could provide a valuable service to us all. Shall we get down to business?”

Grizz

It was a little over two hours later I left the negotiations, confident in the slice that I’d carved out for the Devil’s Dragons.

We were going to be allowed relatively free reign, so long as we didn’t interfere with existing operations in the New Orleans underworld. Our reputation would keep some of the riff-raff away from the city, and we’d be expected to take care of any threats that might move in despite our presence here. For our trouble, we’d be given a nice monthly nest egg to keep the boys paid, and the black market would make sure we didn’t run short on bullets and gear.

I’d even managed to talk the police commissioner into give Hunter’s fiancé, Sarah – the renegade private investigator – the fuel to grow her career. Having an inside line to local enforcement would help us all do our job…

The little council of criminals made it clear there might still be some resistance from the locals. There were a few existing motorcycle clubs were around New Orleans, but I doubted they’d keep us from gaining our foothold. Most of them were in the swamps and smaller towns around the city, well out of our way.

Diplomatically negotiating a strong hand upfront meant that we would be one of the dominant players in town once we arrived – sharing the turf with Old Maggie’s crew, the Redneck Renegades MC, who’d been having trouble keeping the peace. I got the feeling we’d find some real friends among their ranks.

On my way to the bike, I finally flipped out my phone and checked for messages. I had a small string of missed phone calls from Kate, which sent me on red alert.

She didn’t pick up when I called her back.

Fuck.

I knew I should have checked my phone, regardless of what it meant to Julian and his

partnership. Bitterly, I tried the number again, hoping in vain that she’d pick up.

She didn’t.

I’d wanted to swing by a store and pick some flowers up for her on the way back, but I turned my headlights towards home and burned rubber.

If anything’s happened to her…

I tried to push that possibility out of my head. We’d been through so much, and stayed so quiet under the radar. I couldn’t imagine what would have made her try to reach me so impatiently.

Maybe she was just trying to ask me to pick up milk or some shit.

Yeah.

Maybe that was it. Or maybe shit just hit the fucking fan.

My underworld business meeting had been in the heart of the city. That meant weaving between traffic and trying to get off the gridlocked roads as soon as I could.

Being a Friday night meant it was worse than usual, and I was getting close to hopping off my bike and shattering windows to get around the assholes blocking me off.

Finally, I made it to the interstate.

Hold on, Kate… I’m coming for you babe.

I dropped the hammer, rolling the bike up as close to top speed as I could manage on the weather beaten road. I blew past two speed traps on my way, but neither of them made any move to follow me. If I had to guess, that was the police commissioner’s doing. They probably mistook me for a Redneck Renegade.

I cooled my jets when I got off at Metairie, if only because the road was in need of new pavement. It was about another fifteen minutes before I pulled into the driveway of our rental place, and I killed the engine.

Living room TV is on, I thought to myself, my eyes gazing over at the windows. Well, that’s a good sign…

I walked confidently up to the front door. After fiddling with my keys a moment, I popped the door open…

The air left my lungs.

Oh god no.

From the light of the television, I could see that our place was a complete fucking mess. The furniture had been ripped apart and reduced to chunks and splinters against the carpet. The telltale signs of axe marks had ripped chunks from the walls, which were covered in spray paint jeers and slurs.

“Kate?” I shouted, flicking the lights on and immediately pushing across the debris. “Kate, are you in here?!”

But I knew the truth.