Page 57 of Forgiveness
Flux met hisInsurgent brothers outside the rodeo grounds, in a vacant dirt lot that was less than a block away. They did the meet and greet routine, and then Hawk went over the ground rules again. The club wanted to keep contact with the badges at a minimum, but if they had to use deadly force they would, but they’d have to hightail it out of there before any badges showed up.
Flux glanced around at the well-rounded group of brawlers, knuckle busters, and dirty fighters and chuckled.Satan’s Pistons are royally fucked.
“You think the pussies are gonna show up?” Animal asked as he lit up a joint.
“They’re too fucking stupid not to,” Steel, the president of the Night Rebels, answered.
“After we’re done kicking their asses, maybe we can see if we can pick up some rodeo chicks. Do you know any?” Smokey asked.
Flux nodded. “A few.”
“We’re heading back to Pinewood Springs. We don’t need any fuckin’ trouble with the damn badges. You can fuck a club girl or a hangaround when you get back,” Hawk said as he glanced at his phone. “What time are these fuckers supposed to be here?”
“I left a note on one of their bikes telling them to meet us at ten. We got some time,” Flux said.
“What if they thought it was a joke?” Wheelie said.
“The grapevine says they didn’t. They’ve found out Flux is an Insurgents’ nomad,” Hawk answered.
“Too bad this shit didn’t go down in southern Colorado. We’d ride into Arizona and blow their fuckin’ clubhouse to hell and back. These assholes don’t know shit about respect.” Army kicked at the dirt on the ground. As a Night Rebel member, he and his fellow brothers had a special axe to grind with their rival.
A sudden silence fell over the group of outlaws as the familiar sound of motorcycles rumbled in the distance.
Animal threw the partially smoked joint to the ground and stubbed it out. “Looks like it’s time to rock and roll.”
“Everyone, take your positions,” Hawk said. Several of the bikers disappeared into the shadows and took cover behind the large evergreen trees.
That morning, Flux had noticed several more bikes in the rodeo parking lot so he’d figured the Pistons sent for reinforcements. If the assholes thought they outnumbered the Insurgents and Night Rebels, they’d have a false sense of confidence and that was when mistakes—usually deadly ones in the outlaw world—happened.
“Do what we got to do, you hear me? First sign of a weapon and there’s no holding back,” Hawk said.
The men grunted and checked the insides of their cuts, waistbands, and boots—all signs that they were ready to throw down hard. Flux rolled his shoulders, cracked his neck, and jumped up and down a few times to loosen his joints. It’d been quite a while since he’d been in a halfway decent fight.
The pussy dustups with Chet-the-asshole didn’t count for shit and didn’t even begin to compare with a brawl between outlaw clubs. Besides, the pretty-boy cowboy had a jacked-up swing and Flux had easily taken him down. It’d been fucking child’s play. As for a good old-fashioned fight, it must have been at least two years ago. Flux didn’t usually make it a habit to throw out a signal to the world that he was in town. Since going nomad, he’d learned that the best way to play it was under the radar.
Now, with his club behind him, Flux didn’t have to give a flying fuck. He could let shit get as crazy as he wanted to, which was a good deal given the fact that he had a ton of pent-up rage from the day before brewing in his guts. Flux spat on the ground and threw out a few practice punches.
The roar grew closer. Shit was about to go down in a big way—and Flux was more than ready for it. He knew there wouldn’t be many words involved, that was a given. The biker felt a large hand land on his shoulder and he looked back at Hubcap.
“We’re going before the word go.” Hubcap squeezed Flux’s shoulder laughing. “This is gonna be a fuckin’ blast, dude. I haven’t cracked some skulls in at least six months. I’m so fuckin’ ready.”
Hubcap threw his head back and let out a wolf howl, then a few of the other members echoed the noise as a hot line of excitement licked through Flux’s veins. Tell the fuckers what the problem was then attack—that’s how this was going down for damn sure.
A long line of motorcycles turned around the corner and Flux figured the Pistons were outnumbered by at least five men.Fuck, it feels damn good to be back in the saddle.The same hit of adrenaline that jolted through him during a bull fight rode him hard now.
By the time the assholes pulled into the dirt lot, grime spewing out everywhere, the tension and excitement were so damn thick that it’d take a shitload of hunting knives to cut through it. Demon dismounted and the other Pistons followed suit. They stood in a straight line, glowering at the Insurgents and Night Rebels.
“You’re dealing in Insurgents’ territory,” Hawk said in an even voice.
“We’re not doing shit.” Demon took a step forward.
“Didn’t figure you went in for rodeos.” Hawk took a step toward the Pistons’ president.
“We like the pretty bitches in cowboy boots,” Demon snarled and his club members snickered.
Steel stood next to Hawk. “We don’t give a shit what the fuck you do with the bulls or the wimpy ass bull fighters.”
“Steel. I shoulda figured you’d put your fuckin’ nose in this.” Demon raised his hand to his cut.
