Cross

The Vipers' eastern most weapons storage warehouse might as well be fort Knox for all the chance we have of getting into it now that Lizard and his Hell's Spawns have taken control of it.

Fuse, and the other members I sent with him to take it from the Vipers and secure it have all been looking sufficiently remorseful, since we met up with them yesterday, and I've chewed him out multiple times before now, but seeing the shit we're facing, because he fucking couldn't lay off the booze before the job was done sets me off again.

"You had one job, Fuse," I say scathingly, shielding my eyes, as I gaze at Lizard’s men atop the concrete wall that surrounds what is rightfully ours.

"I know, Prez," Fuse says in a low voice. "And I'm really sorry. But those damn Vipers just let them take it. All they had to do was hold onto it until we got here."

"You were days late, and they had no fucking interest in holding it," I say. "It would mean bloodshed, if Lizard really wanted it, so I see why they chose to walk away and let him have it."

It's the same bloodshed I might not be able to avoid now. I'd hoped this warehouse wouldn't be quite as protected as this. Then we could slip in during the night and drive them out. But scaling that wall without half of us getting killed would be impossible, since all they need are a few guys with machine guns manning it, and they've got that. They won't just open those heavy iron gates for us either.

I've spoken to Tommy, the Viper's Bite MC president, last night, and he's sorry enough that the warehouse couldn't be passed on to us, but he made it clear it's our problem now.

"No use hiding anymore," I say. We've been watching the compound from a distance, hidden inside a copse of trees, but it's time for us to make our presence known. The time for thinking this over is done.

"Tank, Fuse, come with me. The rest of you stay here," I order.

The two guards on the wall over the gates zero in on me as soon as I step away from the trees we've been hiding in.

"What the hell are you doing?" Tank hisses behind me. "Now they’ll know we're here."

"That's the plan," I say. "I need to talk to Lizard."

"We're not fighting?" Fuse asks dumbly.

"There's fifty of us, and God knows how many of them in there," I say. "No, we're not fighting, Fuse. Not until Lizard explains what he was thinking going against us like this, and we know what we're facing."

"Lizard stays pretty true to his name at all times," Tank says. "He's not one for talking, and he likes sneaking around in the dark."

"And I'm not one for leading the brothers into fights I don't know the odds of," I counter.

"The Cross I remember wouldn't think twice before staking his claim here and protecting it," Tank says, and Fuse gives a faint, agreeing nod.

Tank's remark pisses me off, but I've made it no secret that I plan to be more careful now that I have Lily to worry about. I dare any father to say they wouldn't do the same. But the problem is, none of them are fathers, so they don't get it. And now I've also promised Roxie I'd see her again soon.

Just remembering her pouting face, as I told her to back off with her questions almost brings a smile to my face. She wouldn't do it, I had to repeat myself more than once, and if there's one thing I respect it’s people who have a backbone and don’t back down at the first sight of trouble. I also like women with a strong will. It's much more enjoyable when a woman like that submits to me. And any problem is worth solving as long as I get to spend at least a couple more nights with Roxie soon. It's a new thing for me, thinking of a woman as more than a distraction, but clearly that's also something that's changed since Lily came into my life. Maybe I’m finally getting ready to settle down.

"I plan to get back what's ours, make no mistake about that," I say. "I'm just not rushing into any fights. I'll give Lizard a chance to mend his mistake, but that doesn't mean I won't end him, if he refuses."

I say it loud enough for all to hear. It should be enough. I don't run the club as a democracy, since that shit never works out, but that doesn't mean I can't hear criticism.

"We're handling this one my way," I add, before walking even further out into the open ground between the trees and the wall, careful to stay out of range of any guns they may have pointed at us.

"I want to talk to Lizard!" I shout.

"He ain't here!" one of the guards yells back. "But he said you'd come asking. He's in Denver, overseeing the tournament at Low Down Place. You know where that is. He said to tell you to give him a call when you showed up!"

The man's talking loud and rough, but I hear the fear behind it. They all know me and what Devil's Nightmare MC is capable of. I inherited the reputation when I took over the MC, and I've honed it even more over the years. But I'll take a step back for now. Try to solve this by talking, even though I'm almost certain it will not be enough. A war is brewing here.

I walk back into the trees. "We're going to Denver, boys."

There's grumbling and muffled swearing, but none of them go beyond that, not even Tank. They might complain from time to time, but every last one of my men would follow me into certain death, if I asked it of them. I know that very well. And I don't plan on asking it of them.

* * *

We reach Denver at ten PM, are parked in front of Low Down Place by half past. A few guys too drunk to be let inside the rectangular structure that houses one of the most infamous underground fighting arenas in the country are bitching and moaning, trying to start a fight with the men working security on the door. The rest of the spectators are already inside, judging by the muffled noise coming from inside the arena, which is filling the parking lot.

"It's the semi-final of the yearly Death Match, and it sounds like it hasn't started yet," Tank muses, as I think about the best way to handle this. "I wonder if Lizard's guy will win again this year. That will make six years running. But I think he's getting a little old. He might have to hand over the title soon. Maybe this year. I think I’ll just bet against him. Although, he’s a tough son of a bitch…"

Some of the others voice their opinion on the matter too, but I'm only half listening. I used to follow the national underground cage-fighting championship, called Death Match, the semi-final of which always takes place here, until about ten years ago, but now I couldn't care less about what goes on with it. Sounds like Tank is still as enthusiastic about it as ever though.

"Alright," I say, turning to the brothers. "Tank is coming in with me to talk to Lizard. The rest of you keep watch on his guards out here. Stay out of sight as much as you can. We don't want to alarm anyone yet. This won’t be a long discussion."

I've already sent twenty of my guys in earlier, and they're mixed in with the crowd inside by now, pretending to be here for the fight.

The others leave to take their places, while Tank follows me to the front door. The Death Match tournament is organized by Lizard's MC every year, though a couple other MCs also help out. Tonight, only two of the five guys working security on the door are Lizard's men. But all of them recognize me instantly as I walk up, one of them opening the door for me before I even reach it.

"The weapons?" another asks, but he's not talking to me but to his buddy by his side, who shakes his head.

He saves me the trouble of telling them there's no fucking way we'll be surrendering our weapons tonight, or letting them frisk us so they know what we're carrying, or whatever the fuck his question was all about.

There are at least three hundred people crammed inside the stuffy warehouse, the smells of smoke, alcohol and leather, mixing with those of old blood and sweat, which have seeped into the walls and floors of this place over the many years it has served as a fighting arena. The cage in the center of the room is still empty, but already lit up like fucking Vegas, and the anticipation of the fight about to start is thick in the air all around me.

Lizard is standing in the front row right next to the cage, six of his guys keeping a circle about eight feet in diameter clear around him. It takes some jostling and elbowing to get the crowd to part for me at first, but I'm recognized soon enough and once that happens, the sea of people opens on it's own for me and Tank.

I didn't call Lizard ahead of time to tell him I'll be coming here tonight, and I like the look of annoyed surprise on his meaty face when he sees me. He's put on a few pounds, since I saw him last, but he's still a mountain of muscle standing at well over six foot five.

"You're just in time for the fight, Cross," he says, as his circle of guards lets me and Tank in to join him at the center.

"I'm not here for the fight," I retort. "You took what's mine, and I will have it back."

"The fight's about to start," Lizard says, a split second before the crowd around us erupts in cheers as a man is let into the cage.

He's tall, wearing just a pair of black trunks, his whole face and heavily tatted up and muscled torso are covered in streaks of red paint that looks a lot like blood. He runs to the bars of the cage, rattling them and growling, but in a calm, dangerous way, playing to the crowd, which becomes even louder at his display. But he genuinely looks like he wants to get out, and his eyes are locked on Lizard for the most part as he performs his cold anger entry routine. I don't think the anger is an act. Judging from the hatred in his eyes, I think he'd like nothing more than a chance to rip Lizard's throat out.

"That's Lizard's champion. He's crazy, in a cold way," Tank says, sounding beyond awed. But I didn't come here to watch a fight.

"I'll give you a week to hand the warehouse back over to me, and we can pretend this never happened," I tell Lizard as the fighter's opponent is also let into the cage to a chorus of boos. He's a huge black man, and if I were in the mood for betting, I'd put money on him to win this fight. Though the raw rage in the other guy's eyes isn't something to take lightly. He might be older and shorter than his opponent, but he looks a lot more motivated to win.

"If you don't, we'll come and take it. And you know I don't take prisoners," I add.

The fight starts, the black man letting out a roar as he lunges at the shorter guy. And for a few moments they're just a blur of kicks and punches. When they finally break, some of the streaks of red on Lizard's guy are in fact blood. But as he backs away and circles the big guy, he looks like he’s just out for a leisurely stroll.

"I do take prisoners," Lizard says pointing at the fighters circling each other in the cage. "I'm glad you're here today, so you can see exactly what happens to my prisoners. Even if my guy wins today, he's never getting out of that cage. Not really. The only way he's ever getting out of that cage is if his opponent kills him. And he's so good at staying alive, he's made me lots of money in the last six years."

I like Lizard less and less with each word he utters, and I'm not even sure how that's possible, since he disgusted me before I came here today.

"One week, Lizard. I strongly advise you to make the sensible decision. Remember Nitro, Diesel and Thunder," I say listing just three of the big names I put in the ground. "Think of their rotting bodies, and the legacy they didn't leave behind. Because you won't leave one behind either, if you mess with me. I will destroy everything you've built in these last few years. I'll wait for your call."

"Finders keepers, Cross," Lizard says, staring forward at the action in the cage, which is picking up again. Though I spotted him cast me an appraising sideways glance while I spoke. He heard me and he's not as calm about my threat as he's pretending to be. He knows I can carry it out. And more importantly, he knows I will, because I never make empty promises.

I motion for Tank to follow me back outside.

"I wanna see the fight," he complains, but after one black look he follows me out without another word of protest.

The rest of the brothers soon join us.

"Most of you are going back to Rapid City with Tank to learn all we need to know to take back the warehouse," I say. "But I gave Lizard a week to return it without a fight. I'm hoping he'll take the deal."

Most of them nod, some mumbling, "OK, Prez" and other statements of agreement.

I turn to Tank. "You know what to do."

He nods too, and then I leave with Fuse and the other four who lost us the warehouse in the first place. They need to be taught a lesson for their failure, which, for starters, will include not being given a task of any importance for the foreseeable future. I'm sure Tank's gonna go back in to watch the rest of the fight once I'm gone, but I trust him not to make the situation with Lizard any worse than it needs to be for now.

If I ride all night, I can be at Roxie's by morning. But I should probably let my daughter know I'm alright before that. Women. Nothing's ever simple when they're in the picture. But these two are different. I don't mind going out of my way to please either of them.