Page 58 of Rags's Awakening
Across the clearing, Shadow grappled two Devil’s Reign bikers, smashing their skulls together with a grunt. Another rival lunged at him swinging a chain, but Hawk stepped between them and took the hit across his arm without flinching. He punched the dude so hard he dropped flat on the ground.
Rags looked over and saw a Devil’s Reign biker tackle Chas, driving him backward. Chas hit the ground hard, gasping for air. The bastard pulled a knife, the blade flashing.
Rags ran over and grabbed the attacker’s wrist mid-stab and twisted hard until the bone popped. The biker howled. The knife dropped. Rags shoved him off Chas and smashed his head into the dirt twice until he went slack.
“You good?” Rags panted.
Chas coughed, spat a mouthful of red, and nodded. “Yeah, the fucker came outta nowhere.”
A guttural cry tore through the clearing. Greasy rushed Rags before he knew what hit him. Rags blocked one punch, but the next clipped his temple and colors burst across his vision. He stumbled. Greasy wrapped his arms around Rags’ chest, lifted him off the ground, and slammed him down hard enough to knock the air from his lungs. Rags gasped.
The asshole straddled him, his beefy fists raining wild and brutal hits. Then nothing until something hard slammed into the side of Rags’s face.Shit!Blood sprayed from his split brow. Before Greasy could land another blow with his kill-light, Hawk grabbed him from behind, hooking an arm around his throat.
“Get your pathetic ass off him,” Hawk said, voice sharp and deadly.
Greasy roared and threw his elbows backwards. One connected with Hawk’s ribs. He hissed and shoved the bastard forward.
“I’m tired of this shit,” Hawk snarled.
Rags wiped blood from his eyes and pushed up, his body screaming.
In one fluid movement, Hawk stepped in, positioned his hip and flipped the bastard. Greasy hit the ground with a brutalthud, air leaving him in a single wheeze.
Rags snorted. “You gotta teach me that, dude.”
“A black belt comes in handy.” Hawk grinned.
All around them, Insurgents were wearing down the Devil’s Reign: Smokey had one pinned under his boot; Shadow kicked a knife away then knocked the man cold; Rock slammed one rival against a tree; Diesel stood over three groaning bodies, chest heaving, fists dripping blood.
It was over.
The distant thump of bass from the festival filled the air, mixing with the groans of both clubs. The Devil’s Reign fared worse than the Insurgents. Only a few of their members were still coughing or trying to crawl.
Hawk stepped forward, Glock in hand. “Get the fuck outta here. Now,” he said, voice calm. “If you make me wait more than two minutes, your shiny Harleys will become our property and we’ll be digging graves.”
The Devil’s Reign bikers staggered to their feet. Some limped, some dragged each other. They spit blood and glared, eyes glinting with hatred.
Greasy wiped his mouth, smearing red across his beard. “This ain’t over.”
Hawk’s stare was cold. “It is for today. You disrespect the Insurgents you get your asses beat. You do it again, and your families will be planning funerals. Don’t even think of wearing theColoradorocker. This was your warning. Next time, we won’t be nice. You’re lucky we didn’t kill your fuckin’ wimp asses for bringing this shit near a festival full of kids.”
The Devil’s Reign fired up their bikes and peeled away, the dust exploding behind the tires. A few flipped them off until they disappeared into the distance.
“Fuckin’ pussies,” Rags muttered. His ribs rebelled, his head spun, and blood poured down his face.
“You look like shit, bro,” Hawk said.
Throttle limped over and handed Rags his T-shirt. “Press this against your eye. You need to get back to the clubhouse.”
“Throttle’s right. Doc will take a look. What happened?” Hawk asked.
“The fucker you flipped caught me with his kill-light.”
“Those assholes are too stupid to back down.” Smokey held up a blood-stained cut. “I grabbed three of these.”
“Two,” Diesel said.
“One,” Chas added.
