Chapter Five
Fists crunched cheekbones, brows swelled, blood sprayed, and the two fighters in the ring stood watching the crowd as men with and without leather cuts duked it out. Diablo jumped into the melee, trying to pull the non-bikers apart. His fellow bouncers rushed in, screaming, cursing, and dragging men out by the collars. Diablo saw one of the Satan’s Pistons take out a knife and come toward Muerto. Leaping over a couple of guys on the ground, he yelled out, “Muerto, to your right!”
Muerto turned and saw the biker inches from him. He swung around and knocked the knife out of his hand, then kicked him in the chest with the heel of his boot. The outlaw biker crumpled to the floor. Diablo kicked the knife out of anyone’s reach and it went sliding across the floor toward the back of the room. Wanting to make sure no one picked it up, he sprinted after it, pausing when he saw Fallon bend down and pick it up.
Bloody Knuckles was waving his arms all around as he ran around like a chicken with its head cut off. If there wasn’t such a ruckus, Diablo would’ve enjoyed the anxiety the asshole was feeling.
Diablo came up to Fallon and she handed him the knife.
“Thanks. You better go upstairs. It’s a fucking mess in here right now. You don’t want to get hurt.”
She stared at him. Standing in the doorway leading to the staircase, she looked so vulnerable. He wanted to wrap her in his arms and keep her safe. She was a delicate-looking woman, but she seemed even more fragile among all the violence behind him.
“Go on now. Do like I told you.” He reached out and slid his fingers over her skin. She flinched and backed away. He watched her go up the stairs, and then he turned back around. The crowd had thinned out and he didn’t see any of his brothers or the Satan’s Pistons members. He started to walk back to the center of the room when he heard a small voice call out his name. He whirled around and Fallon stood crouched on the steps, her eyes shining.
“Be careful,” she said, then scrambled up the stairs. Her words energized him and he marched back into the thick of things.
“Where are the bikers?” he asked Rocky.
“They’re beating the shit outta each other outside. Most of the other people took off. I told Bloody Knuckles we oughta call the police, but he doesn’t want them here for obvious reasons. I get it, but someone’s gonna get killed.”
“I’ll figure it out.” Diablo hurried outside and saw Crow, leaping like a panther, land on one of the Pistons’ backs. They crashed to the ground and his brother beat the fallen man about the head and neck with a savagery Diablo had never seen.
He went over and pulled Crow off the unconscious man.
“What the fuck?” Crow struggled to break free of Diablo’s grip. “I’m gonna kill that sonofabitch. He’s the one who cut me up in Arizona. I’ve been wanting to pay this fucker back. When this chickenshit sliced me, it was me against five of these fuckers. At least I’m giving him a fair chance.”
“Steel won’t want you killing one of these fuckers without reason. You beat his ass, but it’s time to move on.” Diablo nudged the biker who was lying face down on the ground. He groaned. “He’s alive. Let’s help the others.”
As soon as Diablo surveyed the fight, it was obvious that the Night Rebels outnumbered the Satan’s Pistons. The tall man, who Diablo had seen earlier inside, yelled out to his brothers to get their asses on their Harleys and leave. Several of the members were stained in blood, and several Night Rebels didn’t look any better. A couple of Pistons picked up the member Crow had beaten and dragged him to a SUV, threw him in the back, and jumped in. The rest of the club hopped on their bikes.
“We don’t wanna see your fuckin’ asses in our territory again! You sonsofbitches.” Spit sprayed out of Crow’s mouth.
“Next time you won’t be riding away,” Army said while the other Night Rebels yelled in agreement.
The tall man glared at them. “This shit isn’t finished.” He and the other Pistons rode away.
“Fuck them!” Muerto screamed as he stomped his feet on the dirt.
Rocky came outside, his gaze avoiding those of the bikers. He went up to Diablo. “Everything calm now?” he asked in a low voice.
Diablo nodded. “It’s all cool. Some fuckers from a rival club started shit with my brothers. We took care of it.” He spat on the ground, his saliva mixing with the blood that heavily stained the sand and dirt.
In an even lower voice, Rocky said, “Bloody Knuckles is beyond pissed. He wants to talk to you.”
“I’ll be there in a minute.” Diablo watched as Rocky walked back inside. “I fuckin’ let you guys down. I should’ve seen the fuckers in there.” I was too damn busy looking for Fallon. “What happened shouldn’t have.”
“What the fuck are you sayin’?” Goldie jerked his head back. “There were so many people in there and you were doing some shit outside for a while. I bet that’s when the assholes came in.”
“And they must have known bikers were in here because of our Harleys in the lot. They were looking for a fight,” Muerto said.
“And we fucking gave them one!” Crow kicked up the sand with his boot.
“They know better than to be in our territory. We should’ve killed them.” Army shook his head.
“Damn straight,” Skull replied, Brutus and Chains nodding in agreement.
“I’d say the fights are over inside, right?” Sangre asked.
Diablo nodded. “Pretty sure they are. I’ll let you know when the next one is. You guys heading back now?”
“Yeah. Raven’s gonna be so pissed and scared.” Muerto chuckled.
“That makes for a great fucking later on,” Sangre said, and the others laughed.
They went to their bikes and gave Diablo several chin lifts. He watched them as they roared onto the old highway, their red taillights flickering in the dark until they were out of sight. He walked slowly to the entrance, reminding himself not to lose his temper when Bloody Asshole got in his face.
“You took your fucking sweet time,” the promoter said when Diablo stepped inside. “What the fuck happened?”
“Someone let in a rival outlaw MC. They were in Night Rebels territory, so they got their asses kicked.”
“Well that makes everything clearer. Are we in a bad rerun of Brando’s The Wild One? That’s bullshit and you know it.”
Diablo gritted his teeth. “Are we done?”
Bloody Knuckles’s eyes widened. “No, we’re not fuckin’ done. Rocky, bring the other bouncers. I want to talk to all of you.”
Diablo crossed his arms over his chest. I wonder how long this asshole’s gonna act like I give a shit what he thinks.
Rocky and the other two bouncers came over.
“What’s up, boss?” Rocky asked.
“Which one of you let the bikers in?” The promoter glared at each one of them.
“Diablo let some in, and I guess I did too,” Moe said.
The promoter fixed his eyes on Diablo. “Now I’m finding it was you and Moe who let them in.”
He clenched and unclenched his fists. “I let my brothers in. I didn’t let the fuckin’ Satan’s Pistons in.”
Shaking his head, the promoter raised his hands in exaggerated exasperation. “Whatever. From now on, no bikers are allowed in this venue. I don’t give a shit if it’s a granny on a goddamn Harley—no one with a bike is allowed in here. Got it?” The three bouncers nodded but Diablo didn’t move a muscle. Coming close to him, Bloody Knuckles said, “You got a problem with that?”
“Yeah, I do. There’s no fuckin’ way I’m turning my brothers away.”
Anger mottled the promoter’s face. “I own this goddamn place. I put on the fights. I pay your fucking wages. I’m not asking you—I’m fucking telling you.”
“Back away, old man, or you’re not gonna like the way your face looks in the morning.” Diablo uncrossed his arms and leaned closer to the promoter.
He stumbled backward. “If you want to keep your job, then you’ll follow what I say. No bikers. Period.”
“Give me my pay for tonight, then, and I’m fuckin’ outta here.”
“So you’re quitting?” Bloody Knuckles looked frustrated at the way things were playing out.
“Seems that way.” Diablo’s jaw jutted out.
“Boss, some of the biker dudes were here last week and there wasn’t no problem. Maybe it’s because the other bikers were here,” Rocky said.
“I saw the ones who had the devil on the back of their vests start the fight with the other bikers,” Moe added.
Bloody Knuckles breathed out an audible sigh. “Can you promise me this won’t happen again, Diablo? I mean, I lost a shitload of money tonight, and I don’t want people to be scared to come here. When they come, they fucking expect the fights to be in the ring, not in the crowd. Work with me, man. I don’t want to lose you, but you have to give me some assurance.”
Diablo stood silent for a few seconds, loving the way beads of sweat ran down Bloody Asshole’s face. “If no one disrespects them, then it’ll be good. If there aren’t any fuckin’ rival bikers in here, then it’ll be good. Pretty simple.”
The promoter nodded slowly. “All right. I just want to forget this damn night happened. I’ll try and put something together right away. I don’t want people thinking we’re closed for business.” He ran his hand through his short hair. “What a fucking mess tonight was.” He stared fixedly at Diablo and pointed his finger. “I’m counting on you to control shit before it happens.”
Diablo resisted the urge to grab his finger and bend it backward until it broke. The sound of Bloody Asshole’s bone snapping would be music to his ears. “I’m still waiting on my pay.”
“Okay. Now that we all understand each other, let me settle with all of you. It’s been a long night.”
A few minutes later, Diablo went up to Sam who was packing up to leave. “Have you seen Fallon?” he asked.
Sam shook his head. “A couple of the ring chicks are interested in you. They keep asking me about you. I’d die to have just one hour with any of them, and you’re asking me about Bloody’s dowdy daughter?”
“I didn’t ask for your fuckin’ opinion, just if you’ve seen her.”
“No, but then I really don’t ever notice her. She’s not very remarkable.”
In less than a second, Diablo grabbed the wiry-haired man by the shirt and lifted him off his feet. “I don’t ever want to hear you talking trash about her. You got that? If I hear you saying shit, I’ll crush your pinhead until your fuckin’ brains pour out.” He threw the trembling man to the ground and kicked open the back door, letting it slam behind him. He revved up his Harley and peeled out of the lot, his back tire sliding in the dirt.
As he rode down the deserted highway, his anger began to lift. Fallon touched him in a way no other woman had. He didn’t know what to make of it. There was strength in her amid all the chaos she had churning inside her; he supposed that’s what appealed to him. He wasn’t even sure what he wanted from her—friendship or something more. All he knew was he wanted to get to know her. She fascinated him in ways that confused him.
He threw his head back and let the late May air roll over him as he rode back to Alina.