Authors: Ava Bonde
“I suppose you want to find him?”
“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”
There was a deafening silence as the statement sunk in. I accepted a glass, Lucy pouring it full of ice and tea.
“And who is this?” Lucy asked, staring at me.
“I’m Kayla. I’m with Famine,” I said as confidently as I could muster.
Lucy’s eyes dropped to my hips, rising back up and appraising me like a piece of furniture.
“She looks like a keeper. Does she fuck as good as she looks?”
I choked on some tea, trying not to cough, covering the my mouth instinctively. Famine smiled, reaching out to grip my hand.
“Sorry dear, bad joke,” Lucy said, filling Famine’s cup.
“I thought you dealt with Fong…”
“So did I...”
“Nevertheless, I think I can help you.”
Lucy turned, walking past the foyer into the large living room, taking a seat cross-legged on a small futon in the center of the room. We sat across from her on a large leather bound couch, the fine quality of manufacture evident as I slipped into its embrace. I looked around, still shell-shocked by the beauty and extravagance of it all, my eyes gazing out the floor to ceiling windows at the crashing waves.
“This must have cost a fortune…” I whispered, almost too low to hear.
Lucy laughed heartily, her delicate voice singing in the air around me with an ethereal quality. “Land was a bit cheaper out here when I picked the spot…”
I stared at her eyes. Lucy was something different, a keeper of secrets. Her voice was happy and light, but it dawned on me the handgun was still firmly in her grip. I felt something welling up in me that I hadn’t known in a long time. Abject fear. Lucy was someone who used her beauty and voice as a tool. You’d never see the bullet coming.
Maybe he could sense my tension, because Mark chose that moment to try and silence my worried mind. His strong hand came to rest on my thigh. It gave me a short squeeze of reassurance.
“Relax little dove, she won’t bite. You can put the gun away Lucy.” Mark said softly, returning his gaze to the woman. “I apologize for Lucy, she’s not very good with company.”
“I don’t have many friends.” Lucy said. “Forgive me.”
I watched as she tucked the gun away behind her, still well within reach.
My hands were shaking. Despite the man sitting next to me, I couldn’t help but fear the woman. It was as if I were looking into the eyes of a killer.
“Well, go ahead then Famine, ask your favor and I’ll name my price.”
“I already sold my soul four times last month Lucy. The stock market can be a real bitch.”
Now they were both laughing.
“I need an address.”
Lucy didn’t need further prompting. She stood up and walked to the windows, the sunlight spilling over her body. I admired the way she seemed to almost sparkle, and for a brief moment, the whole scene felt serenely peaceful.
“You aim to kill him then…”
“I don’t know yet. I’ve got a six inch gash in my leg and I think I might have him to thank for it.”
“And you’re going to talk nicely to him about it?”
“I’ll let Death have that conversation.”
Lucy nodded, reaching out and putting a hand on the sill if the window. Lifting a pen and small message pad from the lip of wood, she wrote something elegantly across the surface. Folding it into a tight square, she turned back to face us.
“You haven’t asked for something like this in a long time. It’s expensive,” she said, tapping the paper on the sill.
“I expected no less,” Famine said, reaching down, pulling a bag of money from a long cargo pocket on his leg. It was the money he’d taken from Blythe…
I trembled as Lucy handed over the paper.
“If you’re looking for Fong, this is where you’ll find him.”
Famine opened the note, staring at its surface.
“Are you sure?” he asked quietly.
“I’m sure.”
“Lets go, Kayla.” Famine pulled me upright, walking to the door. Lucy followed, deadbolts sliding into place as we stepped back over the threshold. I held Famine’s hand, giving it a squeeze and looking at him closely.
“Can’t you take this to the FBI? Let them handle it?”
“We let them take down Fong and we lose the docks. It’ll bring down too much heat, and nobody will ship. If we’re not running the docks, everything falls apart. We’ll be wrapped up under a RICO so fast it’ll make your head spin.”
“So… We go see Fong?”
“Better to deal with the devil you know. Kayla, I want you to trust me…”
“I trust you.”
Famine held me, and we kissed. Time melted away as we stood there in that moment, not ready to move on. Eventually, our feet started moving again.
The MC was waiting as we emerged from the gates, everyone waiting to hear what was coming next.
“Horsemen,” Famine started. “We ride for Los Angeles. A man calling himself Fong has set himself up on the west side. He thinks he can fuck with the Horsemen, and we’re about to teach him a valuable lesson.
Chapter 9:
Ghosts
THE SCRAWNY
man grimaced, lines crawling across his face like a spider’s web. It was a face that had seen too much, one that had peered into the eyes off the abyss and returned. He reached out and turned off the television, turning to survey the room. It still smelled like bacon.
“They must have left hours ago…”
Far larger and more menacing, a man stepped out from the bedroom. His movements were raw and primal, muscles rippling under the thin black cotton of his shirt. His nostrils flared, taking in the stuffy air.
“They are together. Dirtied the sheets in here.”
The scrawny man spun in place, a quizzical look on his face. “Why would he bring her with him?”
“Guess he really likes the bitch, doesn’t he?” the large man laughed, the sound echoing in the small space.
The scrawny man laughed right along with him.
“I think I’ll kill her first, just to make him squirm,” the large man said as he pulled out his cell phone, checking an incoming message and smiling.
“We’ve got orders. We’re not supposed to kill him, Fong wants Famine alive…”
They say you never see death coming, but that’s not always true. The scrawny man saw it coming. A look of disbelief rolled across his face as he stared down at the blade that had just torn through him. Blood shimmered like water droplets on the steel, clinging to the shining metal. Maybe he should have seen it sooner.
“Nash…” The scrawny man croaked, still staring in disbelief as he plunged the blade again and again.
Nash cried out, his murderous scream anguished and broken. For the brief final moments of life, the scrawny man cried right along with it.
James waited in the long white panel van for Aaron and Nash to return, blasting the radio and drowning out his worries. At that moment, there were few people more blissfully unaware of death’s rapid approach. He might have seen it coming too, if he was watching the mirrors. Maybe he could have done something as Nash crept up along the side, clothed in blood. Instead, he was dead before the second chorus in the song.
No more games for Nash, no more mercy. The days living among these filth were over, and now it was time for revenge. The best part was, they were coming right to him.
Pushing the limp body from the drivers seat, Nash wrapped his hands around the wheel, roaring into the night. The chase was over.
Chapter 10:
The Approach
FIRE CAN
be beautiful, but I found myself more than a little terrified as the pyre burned in the desert, the club stopping for dinner on the road as the flames lit the scene. We’d ridden for hours, but the club stopped here for a little calm before the storm.
“What happens next?”
Mark held my hand in his own, giving me a reassuring squeeze. “We are going into war Kayla. Give the men their war dance.”
I shivered, the cool desert air blowing and causing a strange sensation of being both warm and cold at the same time as the fire tried to battle the chill. Mark seemed to sense my discomfort, pulling me into a long embrace. We stood in the space between cold and fire, between life and death.
“We need to go…” Mark whispered, pulling me away from the flames. “The club is backup, but the Four need to be the ones stepping up.”
“It’s time?” I asked meekly.
“It’s time. Conquest is bringing Penny, you’re with me, War is even bringing Jenna…”
“Why am I coming?”
“In history, women have driven men to great things. You’ve saved my ass, you’ve made me stronger, and if you want to ride with the Horsemen it’s time you learn what it really takes.”
I looked up to the sky, the stars overhead gleaming.
“Come with me.”
I felt safe as we walked away, his arm wrapped around me. Mark would protect me, this I was certain of. I would protect him too…
"He will be waiting at the den." Famine had said before we mounted, knuckles steely white on the grips of the bike. Around us, the three other bikes fired to life. The 4 Horsemen were going to ride. I had spent so much time admiring his composure that it was strange to see such a visible sign of stress. “The Niners used to operate from there back before the last big dustup. It’s an underground bar in south central LA. No sneaking in there. He will know every single inch of the place. One way in, one way out, cameras everywhere.”
“He could kill us before we even get inside!" I replied, breath catching in my throat as Famine reached across to lay his hand across my thigh. The warmth passed straight through to my skin, his strength and passion telegraphed as if electricity traveled from his fingertips.
“No… This man picked the name Fong for a reason. He will want to look me in the eyes first.”
I shivered, the fear crawling up my spine like a spider.
“Why not bring the others?" I asked.
“We have a traitor in the MC. Somebody tipped the Kings off about the feds on the dock.”
“You said you work with the feds, why would someone do that?”
“Nobody knows exactly what the club is doing outside of the Four. It has to be one of the prospects…”
My thoughts returned to the men in the parking lot, the guns and the knife, the way the largest of them had grabbed me so effortlessly and with such menace. Someone in the club made that happen…
“But why, Mark? Why now?” I asked.
"You reap what you sow. Tyrone is right, we’ve planted some rotten crops.”
"I'm with you. To the end Mark."
"To the end.”
“Lets ride,” I said.
In no time at all we were back on the road, the 4 Horsemen slipping off into the night as the miles ticked away under the bike. The rest of the men would follow in the morning, cleaning up the mess if necessary…
The night gave way to the dawn as the bike hurtled along the highway. It wasn't long before we veered off through the city, the beaten path, past homes not yet awake. The world seeming like a brighter place today, almost as if all the dark things that had come to pass were nothing but dreams with no meaning. Somewhere deep inside, I could feel the rising just the same. Every mile brought us closer, and it wasn't long before I realized we had arrived… The buildings face looked like an old theater, with the ticket booth turned into a guard station. Famine stopped the bike up the street, stepping off and drawing a gun from his hip. The other horsemen followed.
“It’s going to be ok…” Penny whispered in my ear, following us. She pressed something into my hand. I looked down to see the revolver, gleaming.
“Ever shoot one of these?”
“No…” I said, still moving.
“Point, pull the trigger. You’ve got six shots, no safety. Pray you never have to use it.”
"He's waiting for us." Famine said, motioning to the guard sitting back in the chair inside the ticket booth. An unmoving arm stretched out from the window, beckoning. As we came a bit closer, it became apparent the arm wasn’t moving… Blood was spattered along the inside of the glass room, someone had shot him straight through the side window.
“What the fuck is going on?” Conquest asked, looking over at the door to the building. It was open slightly, darkness inside.
A second guard fared no better on the inside room, laid flat on the floor. A large sliding metal door blocked our path. The doors slid open as if on cue, their huge mass shifting. Just as suddenly, they stopped moving, the opening barely large enough for a man Famine’s size to squeeze though, and certainly not wide enough for War.
"End of the line..." Conquest said, squeezing himself through the opening without a second thought. The doors didn’t move, nor did they as Penny pressed her way after him. Famine stepped up to the door, turning to War. “Guard the front. Death, you take the back. Nobody gets out of here.” His muscles flexed under his clothing, skin bathed in the light of the rising sun spilling through the front windows. My legs ached as I stepped in front of him, moving through the door. Every ounce of my being wanted to run. I wanted to get back onto the bike and never look back, find a new life, a new home. Watching Mark pass through the opening behind me was a gut wrenching experience. I half expected the doors to slam closed around him. He pressed up against the metal, sliding sideways between them. As soon as we were in, the thick doors slammed shut behind us.