The Rising Sons Motorcycle Club (42 page)

The last door that hadn’t been opened stood before Trask, Gunner, and Raven. Trask was the only one unharmed, since he had come in after the fighting ended. He still looked drained. Raven had been hit by some shrapnel, but she hadn’t felt it until Gunner pointed it out to her. The arm that had already been injured had a steady stream of blood running down it. For the second time, a bandana was tied around it.

Trask opened the door, no longer worried about Maldonado or Vegas. He just wanted to see his mother alive and unharmed. The single incandescent above him cast a long shadow down the stairs. Before he could take the first step, a voice froze him in his tracks.

“
¿Carlos, eres tú?
”

Trask turned back to Gunner and shrugged. Looking down the stairwell into the basement, he answered, “
Sí.
”

“Oh, fuck off, man.”

He looked back with a grin. “It was worth a shot, at least.” He leaned on the doorframe down to the basement, “Look, all your boys are
muerto.
You let the little lady go and you can celebrate them on November first, or you can join them. The choice is yours.”

“I’ll kill her, I swear it.”

“You all right, Ma?”

Trask listened to his mother struggling. “Besides the gun pointed at my head, I’m all right, Trask.”

“What do you want?”

The man that had a gun to Faith’s head laughed. “Honest? I just want out alive. I know I won’t get paid. I just wanna walk, man.”

Trask shrugged. “Drop the gun, and you are free to walk. We’ll let you pass. Let her go, and you live. It’s a simple deal, really.”

Raven’s heart was still racing, but it was manageable, at least. The tension at the top of the stairs was thick, she couldn’t imagine what Faith must have felt like.

“I ain’t droppin’ shit. I gonna walk out of here with the bitch, got it?”

Trask sighed. He turned around. “Everyone drop your guns. Head toward the back of the warehouse. Nobody make a move on this guy. I mean
nobody!”
They could all hear the fury in his voice.

Some of the more proactive bikers were tending to the wounded or pulling thick sheets of black plastic from the windows. Clyde was checking on everyone inside. Two recruits and Mad Dawg had been fatally wounded. He helped carry them outside to be covered. Captain gave them his own version of the last rights. Inside, the mercenaries from Las Vegas had been rounded up. Eleven of them died. One was unconscious, but barely hanging on.

They all dropped what they were doing and moved toward the back of the building. Gunner and Raven looked at Trask; he motioned for them to follow. They did. Gunner put his arm around Raven’s waist as they walked around the crates toward the back door.

Trask yelled down, “I cleared you a path. None of my men are going to hurt you. Once you get up the stairs, you let her go. Deal?”

The man thought hard. It was easily a minute before he answered. “I live. You fuckin’ promise me I live.”

“Jesus, I promise. Take my word for it. I just want to get my mother back.”

Trask heard them shuffling, and his mother’s soft whimpers. Four feet appeared in the light, then their whole bodies. The man looked terrified. Faith had her eyes closed, and Trask could see her shaking. “It’s all right, Ma. We’ll get this all sorted out.”

She nodded and only opened her eyes when her foot hit the first step. She gave a start as the man moved her forward. He had his gun pressed hard against her temple.

Trask’s fist shook against his side. He stayed leaning against the doorframe as they came up, and he did his best to keep a stoic look on his face.

The man with the gun turned to keep Trask in full view as he reached the landing.

Trask unballed his fist and raised it to show he wasn’t being aggressive. “A promise is a promise,
amigo
.”

The man nodded and slid past him, keeping his eyes fixed hard on the gringo. Then the shot went off.

Trask grabbed the gun as he slammed into the guard, both of them falling back into the wall behind them. The gun dropped from the man’s hand as he cried out. Trask put his body into the man and threw him against a crate. He hit hard and slid down, grasping at his foot.

“You son of a bitch!” Blood was already dripping from the hole in his left shoe.

Trask feigned a hurt look. “Are you insulting me, or this sweet woman right here?” He turned to Faith, “You okay, Ma?”

Faith looked shaken. She still appeared to be contemplating what had happened around her. Trask smiled down at his mother, giving her time.

Her eyes found him after a few seconds. “Ma, you okay?” he repeated.

Faith nodded. “I knew you’d come. Thank you, Trask.” Her voice was calm, not like a woman who had been kidnapped and held for more than a day, and not like someone who had heard a gunfight going on above her. She was strong, and Trask could see it.

Faith usually took a backseat with club matters, so he didn’t know just how perfect she was for Bear. Trask saw now that she was Bear’s equal, and that they were very powerful together. All he wanted to do was get them back together, even if it was in a hospital room.

“Come on, Ma. Let’s get you back to California.” Trask put an arm around his mother, but kept the gun trained on her captor.

She smiled. “Oh, God, yes. You don’t know how badly I need a shower…”

After Faith met up with the other bikers, Trask crouched down beside the guard. All the warmth he had shown with his mother was non-existent now. He was all business. The guard saw it, pushing himself back until he was in a corner of the room.

“I’m not happy with you.”

The veins in the guard’s neck were throbbing, his eyes open wide. He had forgotten about the pain in his foot, because all he could think about was the gun aimed at his gut. “Huh?”

“I am not happy with you,
amigo.
I’m worried that my mother wasn’t treated very nicely. Special guests usually get preferential treatment in Vegas, ain’t that right?”

The guard was soaked with sweat, and Trask could see the color draining from his face. He swallowed hard and spoke. “I just doing what I told. We gotta get paid, right, man? Carlos was paying good money to us. Way higher than usual shit he has us doing. We don’t know who we after until the day before. I didn’t know nothing about the Rising Sons or Bakersfield until last week. You gotta believe me.”

Trask nodded as the man rambled. “I believe you.” He lowered the gun, knowing the man was no longer a threat. He was wounded and one of the few survivors. “What’s your name?”

“Bernardo.”

“Trask.” He waved the gun to the man’s foot. “Damn shame my girl ain’t here, Bernardo. She’s a doc—well, soon to be a doc—and she’d fix that right up. She fixed me up good a few months back.”

Sliding down a crate, Trask sat down across from Bernardo. He pulled his t-shirt aside to show the scar where he had been shot saving Hope’s brother. It was still red, and white tissue spidered out from the wound. It wasn’t pretty, and it ached like a motherfucker, but he was as good as ever. “The night I got this nasty little reminder, I came to on a table after she pulled the bullet out of me, and I saw one of my own brothers holding a gun to her head. You know what I did?”

He knew Bernardo wouldn’t say anything, but Trask waited anyway. After a few moments, he went on. “I drove a knife deep into his back. He’d betrayed our club, and he got what he deserved, but now I heard that he crawled to a hospital and got all fixed up. I heard he’s got revenge on his mind, and he hired one Carlos Maldonado to get a group together.”

Trask raised his eyebrows at Bernardo. “That’s why we’re here. I didn’t finish a job, and it cost us dearly. My dad’s lyin’ in a hospital bed, and he might never wake up again. Our bar is a pile of burnt wood and broken cinder blocks. That’s why we’re here, in case your boss hasn’t given you the full story.”

Bernardo leaned his head back against the wall. “Like I said, man, I just out for a paycheck. I got kids, Trask.”

“And I got questions, Bernard. You give me the answers, I’ll give you another day with them. Sound like a fair deal?”

Bernardo turned as he heard a noise behind him. Gunner was standing over them. He had a blade in his hand, and his face was contorted into inhuman proportions, every inch of it a reflection of red hot anger. “Did you kill my brother, you motherfucker?” He reached down, but Trask stood and grabbed his shoulders in time.

Trask backed him away and leaned in close. “Get your shit together, man. You’ll get your revenge, just like we all will. I need information from him.” Trask looked past Gunner. “Raven!”

She stepped from the doorway and saw the knife in her man’s hands. “Jesus Christ!”

Gunner dropped the knife and covered his face. Trask knew he was hurting. Gunner had done a good job of keeping it covered up since the attack on the bar, but it was getting real now. Trask knew what that pain was like. He was hurting for Trigger, too, but nowhere near as much as Gunner must be.

He put a hand on Gunner’s shoulders. “I know what you’re going through, brother. I know your insides are eating you up. You’ll get your revenge, but I need you to go with Raven. All right?”

He nodded and let Raven lead him away from the injured guard. Trask turned back to Bernardo. “Sound like a fair deal, Bernardo?”

The guard looked up, still getting paler. “It’s no fair, but it’s the only deal I got going.”

“Do you know the man Carlos hired?”

Bernardo shook his head. “I don’t know. I done jobs for Carlos for years. He called me up and said I could make twenty grand in a week. You don’t ask questions in this job, Trask. You know that.”

Trask nodded. “The less questions, the better. I get that. Give me your cell.” He reached out as Bernardo handed it to him. Trask scrolled through the contacts and missed calls. There was nothing with a 611 area code, and no contact named Vegas or Ryan Elbers. Bernardo was telling the truth. Trask was a man of his word, but he wasn’t getting anything useful out of Bernardo, and that only made him a liability.

“Carlos wasn’t here when we attacked the place, was he?”

“No, man.” Bernardo was starting to sob.

Trask nodded. “And do you know where he is right now?” As he finished the question, they both heard the deep rumble of motorcycles growing in the distance. Trask’s head sprung up.

When Bernardo spoke, Trask turned back to see a smile on his face. “Yeah. I give you one guess where he is right now.”

Raven heard the sound too. She ran to the front door and followed it. Turning back in, she yelled, “They’ve got backup! Get the injured downstairs, now!” She ran to the back of the shop where some of the Rising Sons were outside having a smoke.

“Hold the back door.”

“Got it.” One of the new recruits said. He threw his cigarette down and pulled his handgun from his jeans.

Raven ran back inside. The place was a storm of activity as the group of riders got closer. Trask stood at the door to the basement, ushering the wounded Sons down there along with his mother. Raven knew that Faith was going to hate walking back down the stairs they had just rescued her from, but she showed her class.

“Come on, I’ll take a look at that cut.” She was pushing the bikers down herself.

Raven had to smile. Faith was an awe-inspiring woman. Adrenaline surged through Raven’s body as she and Trask closed the door after he had dragged the surviving guard down the stairs.

She looked out the street-side window as Carlos and his men pulled up. She looked over at Gunner, who was peering through the front door.

Gunner turned to everyone inside the place. “I’m guessing the fat one with the bling-bling is Carlos. We gotta keep him alive to get to Vegas, so fuckin’ shoot straight.”

Raven turned back to the window. Most of the bikers alongside Carlos had heavy weapons. Shotguns, rifles, and high-powered guns all pointed at the Rising Sons. Her mouth ran dry.

Carlos had a grin on his face. He pulled his aviators down and looked over them at the warehouse. “Okay, Rising Sons. I’m gonna give you one chance to get the fuck out of there before we tear it to the ground just like we did in Bakersfield. I don’t care about the money anymore. You killed half my crew, so that cuts down on my losses. I guess… Well, I guess I should be thanking you bunch of rednecks.”

The bikers on either side of Carlos were laughing. It took everything Raven had not to run through the front door, firing her two handguns at the assholes who had burned Los Bandoleros to the ground. Then an idea hit her, and she turned to Gunner with a wide smile on her face.

Crouching beneath the window, she ran to him and whispered, “Get everyone outside. Out back by the trailers.”

“Why? What the hell are you thinking, Rav?”

“Look at him. He thinks they have us beat. They’re all gonna walk in here, and we can sneak around the front and take them from behind, no problem. Carlos is all swagger, and his men are all followers.”

Gunner looked back through the crack in the door. “You’d better be right.” Raven knew the risks of leaving the wounded in the basement, but they had a few guns down there, and they could protect themselves if it came down to it. Raven hoped that the Sons could get the mercenaries to give up without a shot, but she knew better.