Savage Angels: A Savage MC Erotic Romance (8 page)

When Beanie came and asked me about Cap, I told him how he’d come outside the night of the party, and that he’d helped me to pull away from Snori and Trols. I told Beanie that I last saw Cap out there on the stoop with the two Kaos Anarki bikers. Beanie said, “That seems to be the last time that anyone’s seen him.”

Cox took me upstairs, which I thought was hopeful. Turned out he wanted to talk. He sat on the side of the bed with me and said, “You’ve seen that there are things going on at the club.”
 

I told him, sure I had. There’s some kind of a problem with the Vikings,” He said, “Don’t call them that, Nikka, they really hate it. And they’re pretty touchy right now.”

I said, “Not because of what Lump said, right?”
 

“No, Nikka. It’s business.”

“Anything to do with that girl, Angelica?”

“No, not directly. What do you think of her?”

“I’d say she’s sharp as a tack and tough as nails. But I hardly know her. Is she going to be staying?”
 

“She is for now.”

I knew that I wasn’t getting the whole of that story.

As we talked about what was going on in the club, I was thrilled that Cox was sharing such a lot with me about the club business, but I wondered if there was might be more ominous reason for him telling me.

He said, “Okay, well you’ve got so much of the history and the stories wrong, I’m going to tell you some of the truth of it. I swear, though, I’m putting a ridiculous amount of trust in you, Nikka. If Bogart or even Hacker knew that I told you this, I could be dead. Not like schoolyard dead, but real dead. You sure you want to hear it?” I told him that I did.

He said, “We’re a motorcycle club. We’re not a militia and we’re not a private army. We’re no threat to the government or to anyone else who leaves us the fuck alone.” I thought about the FBI dragon lady and I wondered if she would share that view, but I hadn’t told Cox anything about that incident, and I didn’t plan to. Somehow, that was something that I’d have to find a way to handle.
 

Cox lit up a blunt. “Yeah, we’re outlaws but for most of us we were pushed out or thrown out or chased out of the law’s way, and so we don’t have much choice but to live and operate outside the law.” He took a pull on the spliff and passed it to me. “That doesn’t mean we don’t have a code, a bond of our own ethics and morality. Those good citizens who live within the law, the law might, it just
might
come to their aid when things go wrong. For outlaws like us, there’s no chance of that.” And in his eyes, I though I was glimpsing something of Cox’s history, too.
 

I passed him back the joint, “So, whatever dealings we have and whoever we deal with, trust is the most valuable commodity of all. If you’re smart and you want to survive, you treasure it, you cherish it, you tend it and you don’t squander it. That’s why we prize loyalty above everything.” His eyes held me. I felt as though he were making me a promise of some kind but, like I said, misunderstanding had been our specialty up to now, so I tried to just listen and not assume anything.

“A lot of men in this club have histories you don’t want to enquire too deep into. Believe me, the worst of those histories are things that those men did for their government. Their government who took their bravery and loyalty and showed them very little by way of gratitude or respect when they carried back the scars, both inside and out.”

Listening to his voice, hearing him tell the tale, I felt like we were part of something, that our tales were entwining. Blending.
 

“Warhog was the chapter formed by Hacker’s father John, and his buddy Luke, who has now ridden on. They came back to
Savage
with a bunch of others, back from doing disgusting things in a far off desert in the name of freedom.”

Out there in service, as part of a NATO force was where they had formed relationships with the Norwegian club,
Kaos Anarki
as well as some other international groups.

Back home they needed a place where they could put it all behind them, be themselves and stay out of the way. Their idea was to provide security and protective services to those who may be in need of such, to run a bar and, to sell some weed.

Because of where they’d all come back from, they called the chapter
Warhog
. Butcher was a charter member, and he ran the security operations.

Cox said, “The way that John put it, and the way Luke heard it, the way that they both heard Butcher agree to it, providing security to the local business community would mean just that. Providing security.”
 

Butcher, though, he was fired up by the old stories of rum-runners and gun-runners in the 1920’s. Wanted to see himself as a big old gangster. He took to visiting the local business community to demonstrate their need for security. Helped the sale along with some persuasive demonstrations.

He showed them some of the terrible things that could happen to a business if it wasn’t adequately defended.

Everyone who went out on the call of duty came back changed, and not too many for the better, but Butcher seemed as though he’d found his thing. When he came back he wanted nothing more than to bring the wars back with him.

That’s why eventually John and Luke, as the other charter members, wound up the
Warhog
chapter. Patched
Savage
over it, covered it over like it had never been.

That had all left a lot of bad blood between Butcher and the club. Now he was running his own privateer protection racket, which was a thorn in the club’s side.
Savage MC
was trying to keep on the good side of the Placid law enforcement. They kept local gang crime down and violence down, they kept the very bad drugs out of Placid, and there was Butcher, making everybody look bad.
 

When Cox paused, I spoke slowly, and carefully. He and I had a pattern of misunderstandings recently, and I really didn’t want another one at this point.
 

I said, “Okay, Cox, I hear you, and I’m really grateful for you trusting me. That does set a lot of things straight. But all of that must be pretty well known around town. I bet my daddy could have told me all of that.”

I bit my lip, it was a mistake to say that. Cox hated it whenever I mentioned my daddy. I went on, “None of what you just told me now is like state secrets, is it?”

“No, it isn’t, Nikka, but this is: the club is headed for a big problem right now, and we may need
Warhog
again. We might need Butcher.”

“That’s pretty hardcore, Cox.”

“That’s why I’m telling you, Nikka. This may be your last chance to get out before it all blows up. There’s just one chance of a meet tomorrow sorting this thing out, but none of us really believes that it will work.”

“Cox, I don’t want out. How clear can I be with you, I want
in
.” I wanted to tell him that what I wanted was to be with him, whatever it meant and wherever it was. I figured it would only scare him away if I said that, so I held my tongue.

His tongue was what I wanted more than anything right then. He reached out for me, pulled me to him. He must have felt my heart, banging in my chest. I could practically hear it thumping. The look in his eyes was hard to read, like he was scanning me. He said,

“You know Beanie still hasn’t found Cap. Have you any idea where he is?”

I thought that I’d handled the situation with Snori and Trols so badly, I just didn’t want to tell Cox anything about it. Still, it didn’t seem as though anybody had seen Cap since then. I shook my head. He said,

“Nikka?” I looked away. He snapped,

“There’s always something you keep back, Nikka. Didn’t you understand any of what I said about trust? Am I not getting through to you at all?”
 

As Cox stomped out he slammed the door behind him.

Crosstown Traffic

I took a joint outside the clubhouse, sat in under a tree as the sky was turning dark blue. Walked around the lot, kicking dust. Bumped into Snori. “When are you fucks going back to the land of the ice and snow?” was what I wanted to ask him. Instead, I just pulled my lips tight, folded my arms and stepped around him.

As I passed, he grabbed my arm. Same arm as before, in the same place. I hated the heat and the smell of his breath on the side of my face. He hissed in my ear, “Don’t you be spreading stories now, will you, little girly? We’re the ones with the myths and the sagas.” And I shook as he let go roughly, and he said, “Don’t forget.”

I had to get out of there.
 

I drove around going nowhere in particular and feeling wretched and miserable.

It was only because I was driving around with no place to go, no pattern, turning at random and doubling back more than once, I started to notice that wherever I went, a dark sedan would be somewhere behind me and about two cars back. Not near enough that I could see the driver or read the license plate. I couldn’t even be too sure of the color, only that it was dark, but it stayed there like a shadow that was running late.

I had refused to wear the wire, but I wondered if maybe the dragon lady might not have given up yet. Perhaps she’d let me go a little too easily. I began to wonder if, as well as having me followed around, the dragon lady could have had devices planted in my car. A tracker or a wire, or even both.

Look at Little Sister

Cox watched from the clubhouse door. Bogart’s Harley climbed the incline up to the clubhouse as he returned from the Meathook. Bogart pulled up and leaned the bike on its stand outside. On the back of the bike was another girl. Another looker, too. She looked a lot like Angelica. Could they be related? Los Muertos could have brought sisters across the border, that would make sense, sure. Bogart turned in the saddle and spoke to her, pointed up at the clubhouse. Along the wall Cox saw Angelica, about the same time the girl did. She jumped off the back of the bike, ran over to Angelica.

Angelica never knew what Bogart did to get Inez and bring her back
Hell’s Kitchen
, but he brought her, safe and well.

When Angelica saw her sister, smiling, tired and dirty, all the stress of the last few days burst out of her and she hugged Inez’s neck and sobbed. She looked in her eyes, stroked her face, held her close and she wept.

She held Inez’s face in her hands, smoothed her crinkly black hair, brushed her face and kissed her over and over.

And now, she knew, she owed Bogart. Forever.

As Bogart stepped up to the clubhouse door, the two girls came over and hugged him. He almost smiled as he said, “Okay, girls. You’re happy. I get it. That’s good. Now, run along and be happy.”

Cox could see at once that
Los Muertos
hadn’t come up with the money, he didn’t even have to ask. They passed a look. Cox chewed inside his lip. They both knew that this was real trouble.

Who knew what the deal with the girl was, though. Bogart couldn’t be moving the club into trafficking. Not without a council. It was against everything the club stood for, Bogart’s rules as much as anyone’s. More than anyone who was alive and not in jail. Cox was sure it wasn’t something they needed to discuss, otherwise they’d be discussing it.