Skid
Stomper grinned and lit a cigarette. “I should have found you a long time ago, Skid. You’re proving yourself to be very useful.”
“I do my best.” It had been hard to come back to the Sons of Chaos. They were a filthy, rowdy, disgusting bunch compared to the men of Satan’s Legion, and the places they hung out where the same way. He missed the relative peace of the clubhouse and the fact that he could always find a good meal there. Most of all, he missed Mina.
It had been horrible to see her like that, with tears in her eyes as she begged him to stay. He had wanted to give her everything she asked for, but the timing wasn’t right yet. There was only a short window in which he could do what he needed to do, and Mina and the baby would have to wait. He hoped she would understand. He would make her understand.
“So, he didn’t try to make you agree to any silly terms like not showing up alone or anything?”
“Nope. It’s all on the up-and-up. Park’s like that, though. He would rather show his entire hand and let everyone know he has it than keep it a secret.” He and Park had discussed the various aspects of the meeting between the two clubs extensively, examining every possibility. It was like nothing had changed, except they both knew it had. They’d carefully skirted around the issue of Mina. It would be handled when they had time.
“And more the fool he is for it,” Stomper laughed. “Here’s how I imagine it: I’ll show up with a small contingency of men. Of course, I’ll have you at my side, which will be sure to piss him off. That’ll keep him off his guard. He’ll act like he wants to talk, but we both know that talking isn’t going to solve this problem. Just when he least suspects it, I’ll bring in the rest of my men. It’ll be the turf war to end all turf wars, and Satan’s Legion will be no more. I’ll take over everything they’ve got. You’ll get your girl.” He tipped his head back and stared at the blackness of the ceiling of The Billy Goat. “Tell me about the clubhouse. Is that old place worth keeping?”
Skid shrugged. “Nah, probably not. He’s had it a long time, and it’s falling apart at the seams.” That wasn’t true at all, but Skid was content to let Stomper think he had the upper hand in every aspect.
“He really is a damn fool. That’s exactly why we don’t stay in one place for a long time. It gets expensive, and I wouldn’t want to keep up with something like that. Besides, I like the open road. I’m eager to get back on it once this is all over.”
Nodding, Skid waved away the waitress when she tried to give him a beer. He needed his head clear. “He must not have really meant it when he sent Animal here to give you that message, anyway. I told him he was dead, but Park didn’t seem to care.”
“That’s a bad leader for you, not caring about his men. We’re not going to do it that way when we start our new club.”
Skid watched the room carefully, concerned that someone had heard him. The last thing he needed was a mutiny among the Sons this close to his escape. Fortunately, they were celebrating their upcoming victory prematurely. With the jukebox blaring and the beer flowing, nobody had paid any attention. There was nothing left for him to do but wait.
* * *
The lamps over the old parking lot flickered their yellow lights nervously as a small group of motorcycles rode in from the west side. The night was dark, and a sheen of water from an earlier rain shower had coated the old asphalt. It glittered like new in the dim light, the cracks and potholes hidden from view until someone ran over them.
Skid had chosen this place purposely. It was just a parking lot behind an abandoned mall, but it was a good middle ground between The Billy Goat and the clubhouse. It would keep Stomper’s men far from the clubhouse. The one thing Skid and Park had discussed was Mina’s safety and the fact that several of his most trusted men would be left behind to watch her and the other women. There was no telling what lengths Stomper might go to if this meeting went his way.
He pulled up beside Stomper and turned off his engine, watching carefully for any signs of Park and Satan’s Legion. It was nearly midnight, and he was ready to get this over with. He checked his watch.
“You think he’ll come?” Stomper was watching the place as well. He had ordered the largest part of his men to stay back in a parking lot just a block over. The men of Satan’s Legion wouldn’t see it coming from that direction. “I can’t wait to see the look on his face.”
“I’m sure he will.” Skid’s biggest concern was that Park had been successful in getting Mina to stay behind. He knew how she was, and that was going to be a bigger task than dealing with the Sons.
Soon enough, the rumble of engines sounded in the dark, and a massive group of headlights filed into the parking lot. Park was at the lead, and his men surrounded him when he pulled to a stop in front of Stomper. Unlike the Sons, who had parked without any certain order, the Legion arranged themselves in an offset grid pattern. Skid could see every one of their faces, and they looked like they had come ready for a fight.
Park waited until the commotion had died down. “You wanted to talk?”
“I sure did.” Stomper got off his bike with ease, striding up to the other leader. “You say you want me out of here?”
“I do.” Park was calm, and he didn’t bother getting off his bike, but he looked like he wasn’t going to back down. “We’ve been here for a long time. Other clubs that come through always talk to me first. If they’re polite enough to ask, then I usually give them my permission.” He raised one pale eyebrow.
“How very generous of you.” Stomper paced in a circle around Park’s bike, trying to intimidate him. “The thing is, I’m not the kind of guy who asks permission. I take what I want.”
“So I’ve noticed.” Park kept his eyes straight forward, not focused on anything. He wasn’t going to give Stomper the satisfaction of thinking he was getting to him. “All the more reason we should talk.”
“I think I’m done talking,” Stomper replied with a sneer.
“I’m not.” Skid kicked his bike to life and slammed the throttle. He turned and skidded to a stop amongst the crowd of Legion men, now facing the Sons. And Stomper. “You need to know before we get this whole thing started that my allegiance still lies with Park. He’s been my president for a long time, and I’m not going to let someone like you get in the way of that.”
“You what?” Stomper’s face bloomed red, visible even in the dim light. His fists curled and the muscles of his shoulders tensed. “You fucking bastard. Is this really how this is going down?”
“It is.” Skid risked a glance behind him at Park’s men, curious as to how they would receive him. To his relief, they nodded their approval. Things were going as planned, so far.
Stomper stormed back to his side of the lot. Only a few feet separated the two gangs, but that small distance made a difference. “I can’t believe this, you cocksucker. You know, I had my doubts about you from the very beginning. I wondered if this whole thing about you being my friend could be just an act to get information about my gang, but I tried to dismiss it. I wanted things to be like the good old days. I guess I was wrong.”
Skid knew that Stomper had never questioned him. He wasn’t the type of guy to think things through, not like Scar did. “Guess you should have listened to your VP,” he quipped. “And for the record, the old times weren’t that good. They’re better off left in the past.”
“If I were you, I would enjoy them while I can since you don’t have a future.” Stomper charged forward. His men were off their bikes and heading into the fray right behind him. The rest of the Sons came from around the corner, their motors whining and their knives flashing.
The Legion was prepared. They hadn’t been foolish enough to bring knives to a gunfight. Pistols and sawed-off shotguns came out of vests and saddle bags. Flashes lit up the parking lot more than the dim lights could ever hope to, and Sons began to fall. The parking lot of that old abandoned mall had more action than it had seen in five years as bullets pierced denim and leather.
Suddenly, the roaring sound of engines overpowered that of the flying bullets. Stomper was screaming out orders, but they couldn’t be heard above the chaos. The remaining Sons were leaving, flying out of the parking lot as fast as they could go.
Park put his hand up as a signal to cease fire. His men obeyed immediately. They watched with satisfaction as the Sons of Chaos left, knowing that they wouldn’t be coming back. Stomper was bleeding from his shoulder, but he was whole enough to maneuver his bike out onto the road and slam the throttle.
Skid turned to Park. “Well, how was that?”
The blond man turned to examine his men. There were a few wounds being patched up, but nothing they couldn’t handle. He smiled. “You think they’ll be back?”
“Nah.” Skid took a deep breath of the night air. The scent of gunpowder, exhaust, and victory was heavy in it. “Even Stomper isn’t that stupid.”
Park nodded. “Good. Let’s go home.”