Page 84 of Retribution
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Cobra
Three weeks later
Boise, Idaho
Cobra pulled histrucker hat down a little lower and his jaw clenched tight. This was the second night he’d staked out the swanky bar on the corner of West Broad Street. The intel he’d received from Razor reported that his target—Taylor Rubal—hung out at Cooper Lounge at least three or four times a week. Razor had called Cobra a few weeks ago and told him the fucker had moved from Idaho Falls to Boise. The asshole had taken an IT job with a big salary and lived in a pricey apartment building in a nice part of town.
Cobra had spent several of his days off trailing his prey, and he quickly found out that the overpriced apartment complex had a slew of security cameras that were fake as fuck. Relying on the cheapness of landlords always made Cobra’s jobs easier. From his surveillance over the past two weeks, he knew Taylor rarely went out with friends, but seemed to usually take a chick home with him after the bar closed on Friday and Saturday nights, but never on the weeknights. That was the reason Cobra sat in Breaker’s truck on that Wednesday night waiting for the perfect time to strike and devour his prey.
He poured another cup of coffee from the thermos and checked the time on his burner phone: 12:30 a.m. Taylor always left the bar before closing on weeknights. Cobra made a quick phone call to Breaker, who was waiting in Iron’s pickup near the fucker’s apartment. Breaker confirmed that they were ready to roll at Cobra’s signal.
Cobra put the phone in the cup holder and leaned back against the seat. When Razor had told him he’d found the fucker who’d raped his woman, Cobra had wanted to jump on his bike and rush to Boise and beat the shit out of the asshole, but he held back, knowing that acting out of emotion led to dire consequences. He’d learned that when he’d come to the defense of Sharie years before in Vegas. That mistake had landed him in the fucking pen. So he waited, making the long trips to Boise to track his target’s every move, all the while keeping the rage that consumed him in check. He told himself over and over that the time would come to unleash the fury, and … the time had finally arrived.
When Breaker had reached out and told Cobra that he was going to help him out, Cobra had balked because his mission was personal, not club business. But Breaker wouldn’t hear of it, and soon Iron, Brute, and Pee Wee joined Breaker in their quest to right a wrong that had been committed against one of their brothers’ women.Thatwas what the brotherhood was all about.
And when Cobra had asked Grinder if he could spare a prospect from time to time to watch his woman while he was on surveillance, Grinder hadn’t even hesitated. Yeah … his family always had his back. Loyalty, respect, and honor wouldalwaysbe the bond between him and his brothers, and he was a Steel Devilforever.
The buzz of the burner phone broke through his thoughts and Cobra brought it to his ear.
“Yo, just checking in to say your woman’s good.”
“Thanks, dude.”
“I’ll check in again in another hour.”
“Later.”
Cobra let out a long breath of relief and fixed his gaze at the front door of the bar. Dakota didn’t know anything except he was on club business. Perhaps he’d tell her one day what he did to the man who’d taken away her innocence and fucked her up, but that would only be if the nightmares continued. Since they’d declared their love for one another, Dakota seemed calmer, happier, and less restless.
A burst of loud voices and laughter spilled from the bar as Taylor pushed open the door and walked out. Cobra watched him as he shoved his hands in the pockets of his pants and ambled down the street to a cobalt blue Mustang with bold white stripes painted on the hood, roof, and trunk. The minute the lights flashed on and the jerk opened the door, Cobra picked up the phone and called Breaker as he drove away. Both Breaker and Iron were inside the underground garage waiting for the target to pull into his parking space. Cobra found that it was easy as hell to slip into the garage when a car drove through the opened gates. Brute stood sentry on the inside, next to a pad that manually activated the opening. Cobra had instructed him that when Brute saw him approach, he was to open up the barrier so Cobra could gain access into the area.
He parked the truck just under a large tree with drooping branches, which provided a perfect cover for it in the shadows. Cobra’s all-black attire helped him blend into the night as he jogged over to the garage. The mechanical clanking of the gate pierced the silence for a moment as he slipped in. He lifted his chin to Brute then rushed over to Taylor’s parking space. Breaker and Iron bumped fists with him as they took their positions behind the thick and wide concrete columns around the fucker’s location. Cobra hid behind the one right next to the asshole’s assigned spot. The pillar had blue paint smeared on it, and Cobra figured the jerk had scraped it when he’d come home drunk. He’d witnessed the fucker driving drunk on several occasions during the past two weeks.
Adrenaline pumped through him when he saw the glare of headlights from the approaching Mustang. Music filtered through the half open windows, and Cobra saw Taylor’s fingers flicking to the rhythm of the song as he swung a left and pulled into the spot. Cobra’s body tensed as he reached in his waistband and pulled out his Glock 9mm.
The fucker turned off the engine and rolled up the window then got out of the car. The clang of his keys hitting the concrete ground bounced off the walls. Cobra slipped out from behind the column and silently walked over to the unsuspecting target. When Taylor straightened up, Cobra clipped him good and hard with the butt of his gun. The asshole groaned then crumpled to the floor.
Iron and Breaker strode over and in less than two minutes, they had the asshole tied up in the passenger’s seat of the Mustang. Cobra threw the car keys up in the air and caught them in his hand.
“In case we get separated, you know where we’re going,” Cobra said as he opened the driver’s door.
“Yeah,” Breaker said.
They wanted to get out of the garage as fast as possible. Breaker and Iron slipped into the back seats and Cobra drove out to the street and dropped them off at the truck he’d parked under the large tree. Pee Wee and Brute were already in the other pickup, ready to go.
The curbside maple trees whispered in the summery breeze, and moths fluttered under the streetlights. The neighboring complexes were as quiet as their windows were dark. No dogs barked. No one walked the empty streets. The truck door closing and the low rumble of the Mustang’s engine were the only sounds breaking the silence.
Cobra took a quick left down a dark street, and soon he and the others were out of the city heading to the mountains. They’d found a spot deep in the wilderness the week before, and if everything went according to plan, Cobra should be back in Philipsburg by noon, and the others would be in Missoula paying a visit to T-Roy’s chop shop to get some money for Taylor’s snazzy blue Mustang.
The sportscar drove up the winding mountain road, and the rear tires slid a bit as Cobra took the curves a little too fast. A low moan came from Taylor, and from the corner of his eyes, Cobra could see the asswipe shift in his seat then pull at the ropes.
“What the fuck’s going on?” Taylor slowly straightened up and, as he looked over, Cobra could see his eyes were wide with fear. Another tug at the restraints.
Cobra clenched his jaw and turned his gaze back to the road.
“Who are you?” he asked.
