Free Read Novels Online Home

Rise Again by Aaron Riley (16)

Tater and I rode next to each other on our bikes while Tank drove the black truck behind us filled to the brim with every gun that Devil's Hellions MC owned. I forced Patrick to stay back at the clubhouse until I got back.

 

He pounded my chest with both fists, screaming at me about why he deserved to go.

 

All it took was for me to say, “I wouldn't be able to focus one-hundred percent if I knew you were in danger. I could get us all killed.” Patrick stepped down and let me go. I hated to leave him behind but it was the only way to know that he was safe.

 

 This raid on the Mexican restaurant was our last ditch effort. If we couldn't take out a substantial portion of The Death Merchants, there wouldn't be enough of us left to defend against a counterattack.

 

The thought of betrayal by the Fires of Hell lingered in the back of my mind. Byron would barely have to lift a finger to destroy what's left of the Devil's Hellions MC. We'd finally be out of his way and he'd have our entire gun supply. The only thing I could count on was our blood pact. Hopefully Byron felt the same way as I did about honor.

 

We came to the overpass to discover a decimated army of Blacks on bikes. There had to be only ten of them. I hated to think of how many members they lost when the Mexicans hit them. The Devil's Hellions MC knew their Phoenix.

 

Tank opened the back of the truck to reveal piles of assault rifles, handguns, and machine guns. Byron laughed hard, his white teeth glaring at me. “Who would have thought the Devil's Hellions MC had this much firepower. You could take on a small country with all this.” Byron took out a M4A-1 rifle and cocked it. “Let's get to work.”

 

Tater and I helped pass out guns to all the Blacks. There were still a ton left after each Fires of Hell member took as much as they wanted. I knew the Devil's Hellions MC would never see those guns again. We were giving the Blacks everything they needed to rule Sacks County. Once the Mexicans were finally gone, we'd have an even bigger war with the Fires of Hell.

 

Tank rode with me and Tater's fat ass was right next to us as we followed behind the large sea of Black. All I could think about was not getting in one last fuck with Patrick before marching off to my death. I should have been focusing on surviving but the thought of my hard cock piercing Patrick's eager ass was distracting. If only I could have made him moan my name one last time while coming inside him.

 

Tank put a fist into my side and I snapped back to reality. We were entering the far east of Sacks County. The Blacks owned this side but in recent years a big Mexican population had moved in. Little shops and restaurants lined the streets and not one Black was to be found. If we weren't careful, this virus could infect the entire county.

 

The Fires of Hell turned down a dark alleyway with old beat-up cars parked on both sides. We followed and parked when we were out of sight of the main street. Tank pulled his shotgun from a holster on my bike. Tater was busy cleaning his pistol. The night air was cool but adrenaline and my leather cut kept me warm.

 

Byron signaled me over and hunched down. “Okay Phoenix, the restaurant is a block from here. We hit it from the front, spraying the windows, and then get the hell out of there.”

 

Byron's plan was a classic Fires of Hell move—hit it hard and run away. In the past few years, we had fallen to their guerrilla-style tactics. Byron's MC didn't care about finishing jobs, just creating as much chaos as possible. His plan with the Mexicans wouldn't guarantee us success.

 

“Why don't you guys hit the front and my guys hit the back?”

 

Byron shook his head. “Behind the Mexican restaurant in the alley is a bank. They have cameras covering the entire thing. You might as well deliver yourself to the cops with a bow taped to your chest.”

 

“We won't be able to kill them all. They'll escape into the alley to fight another day. What if we guard both exits of the alley. Fire on them as they try to get out.”

 

Byron sighed. “We don't have enough to cover all the exits. Besides, the Mexicans own that bank and could hold up in there if they wanted. I want minimal casualties. I know you'll agree that we both can't afford to lose anymore men.”

 

Byron was completely right. If Tater or Tank died, the Devil's Hellions MC would be done for. There's no way we could rebuild with only two members. It was essential that we all survived.

 

The group of us drove our motorcycles down the street in a line. We stopped in front of a little restaurant called Los Hermanos. Two large windows looked into the restaurant from the street. The entire Death Merchant MC was in there celebrating with beers and women. They had no idea what was about to hit them.

 

The line of Blacks and Whites drew their guns and pointed at the restaurant. The first shot went off, hitting the big pane of glass and shattering it. The rest of us opened fire, bullets raining down on the Mexicans. A few of them were quick enough to return fire. Blood sprayed the walls of the restaurant. Tank's shotgun burned in my ear with every shot.

 

One of Byron's men got hit in the head and fell off his bike, his gun clattering on the pavement.

 

I looked back at the restaurant and aimed carefully, hitting one of the Mexicans in the head—brain matter exploded behind him, covering one of the cheap whores. Her screams of horror brought a smile to my face.

 

Another Fires of Hell member got hit in the shoulder and sped away. Byron yelled and we stopped firing. The restaurant was completely annihilated but there were still Mexicans alive to fire back at us.

 

I wanted them dead. No, worse then dead, I wanted them to be tortured slowly for a thousand years. But if we stayed there any longer, more men would die.

 

Our bike engines thundered as we escaped into the night. The Devil's Hellions MC came out of the battle unscathed. The Fires of Hell lost one guy and another injured. The Death Merchants lost the most. We must have killed at least twenty of them.

 

I'd find out later that we got their President and Vice-President. A complete success. The Death Merchants would have a hard time coordinating revenge. And even if they did attack, they'd have to take out all the Fires of Hell first.