Chopper
The Mongols formed a semi-circle around him, completely blocking his path. They were a phalanx of machines that made the air heavy with the smell of exhaust. The thrumming of the engines formed a steady backbeat to the confrontation that was about to happen. In the center of the line, straddling his ride directly opposite Chopper, the largest, roughest looking goon sneered at the cornered Outlaw leader. Chopper thought he recognized the scrubby beard and the mouth full of crooked teeth, but he couldn’t quite recall the man’s name. Somehow, not knowing made him calm.
“We finally got you, Slater,” said the man. He spoke in jumbled syllables that sounded like his tongue was tripping over those teeth. “Been a long time coming, ain’t it?”
Chopper shrugged. Even at a distance, he could smell the reek of alcohol. He wondered if Spike knew that the man he’d sent to kill his rival was hammered out of his brain. “I thought I’d at least be taken down by someone I knew,” Chopper said. “Do me a favor and have a talk with Spike about respect, will ya?”
A murmur ran through the Mongols, underscored by a few quiet chuckles. Chopper sensed that whoever this guy was, he struggled in the popularity department. Logistically, it made sense that Spike hadn’t wanted to commit any of his top dogs to chasing Chopper down—he probably knew Chopper would play hard to get, and he refused to give any of his major resources up to be wasted. Besides, Chopper knew the level of esteem in which Spike Lawler held him; specifically, he knew it wasn’t very high. He felt no danger in having a little bit of fun with this particular Mongol. But it was clear that the Mongol didn’t share in his amusement.
“Fuck you,” he slurred, spitting clear of the line of bikes. “Don’t matter if you know who I am or not. You’re gonna be dead real soon.”
“I thought it would’ve happened already,” Chopper said. He folded his arms. “Are you here to kill me or not? Get on with it.” Part of him was buying time, investing in the hope that if he waited long enough, he might think of a way out.
He had guns on him, sure, and he was heavy with ammunition. But he was still only one man, and if he was armed to the teeth, so were each one of them. The money that the Mongols had lost from their interrupted drug trade had not affected the enormous stockpiles that were already there. It was just a matter of finally opening fire.
The drunk man moved to dismount his bike. As he lifted his leg over, it wobbled dangerously, and some of the men around him flinched. He regained his feet and turned to look Chopper in the eye, his face lit with a slightly insane gleam. One hand disappeared into his jacket and came out with a revolver that wavered in his grasp. Chopper braced himself for the imminent pain of a missed shot to the shoulder or leg. Maybe Spike had known his executioner was drunk. Maybe he’d meant for Chopper to suffer before he died.
The man stretched out his arm, struggling to level the barrel at Chopper’s face. His thumb fumbled for a moment before finally finding the safety. Chopper heard it click off. Then he heard something else. His gaze moved past the gun aimed at his head. On the road behind the cluster of Mongols, he could just barely make out a shape speeding toward them through the darkness. There was a single loud report, and a cloud of red mist erupted around the drunkard’s head. The gun dropped from his hand, and he fell forward soundlessly. Half a beat later, another gunshot roared, and another, and another. Each time, a Mongol fell. Some of them fired wildly into the night, but their bullets couldn’t find a target. The gunman on the road kept shooting.
Chopper smiled. He didn’t know for sure who was driving, but he did know Red had always been a crack shot. He would have recognized the voice of that rifle anywhere. But he didn’t stick around to marvel at his good fortune. Red was there to do him a favor, and he wasn’t about to let it go to waste.
He jumped on his bike and gunned the engine, sweeping through the Mongols’ broken wall. They fired at him too, but they were in too much disarray to hit. That was another of Spike’s failings: his men just weren’t as good. The thought of Spike hearing how his forces got picked apart by a single Outlaw gave Chopper immense gratification.
He was on the road for a minute before his mind cleared and he realized where he was going. He needed to pick up Kelsey, but plans had changed. He remembered that she was no longer at his house. Chopper sent her a text. He was not a praying man, but he prayed that he would get a response, that she’d been able to find somewhere safe to wait for him.
“Turn your phone’s tracking on. I’ll come to you.”
Message sent, he opened the tracking app and waited. Her phone was one he’d given her not long after she arrived at the compound, and a tracking ID had been part of the deal. He remembered, with a wry smile, that she was less than thrilled to know he would be able to keep tabs on her at all times. But Chopper didn’t trust her back then. He had to make sure he knew where she was and that she wasn’t feeding information to Spike somehow. In truth, he’d never used the app to find her. He never had to. Now, he was glad he had it.
An incoming message came onto the screen.
“I think it’s on. I’m at a pub near your neighborhood. I’m safe.”
Chopper exhaled a breath he didn’t know he was holding. At the same time, a blue dot popped up on the tracking map. He knew the place she was at; he’d gone there himself, before the Outlaws. For some reason, it gave him comfort to know she was sheltered, outside of gang territory. As he started up his bike again, his thoughts swirled. She was safe, but Chopper didn’t need to be told how close of a call it must have been. No one knew better than him that Spike was dogged in pursuit of things he thought belonged to him. And he certainly thought that about Kelsey.
But Chopper was more concerned about what Kelsey thought now. Could he blame her if she thought he had betrayed her, that he’d struck a deal with Spike for reasons she wasn’t told? That sort of thing happened all the time in Chopper’s world — or it had before he met Kelsey. Did she think that he had done it? He felt a burst of anxiety. What if his own arrogance had caused him to lose her? How could he be so stupid?
Chopper tried his best not to be consumed with his worries before he reached the pub, but he had no idea what to expect as he walked through the door into the brightly-lit foyer. The hostess behind the front counter smiled brightly. “Just one?” she asked.
“Uh, actually, I’m here to pick someone up,” Chopper told her. He felt suddenly awkward and out of place. “My girlfriend.” He paused. “She’s pregnant.” Briefly, he entertained the terrifying fantasy that this girl would tell him she hadn’t seen a pregnant girl, that he must be confused. “She’s got long dark hair,” he added.
A look of understanding came across the girl’s face. “Oh, I just saw her,” she said. “I think she went to the bathroom. You can feel free to wait for her up here if you want.” She hesitated. “Uh, by the way … I don’t want to alarm you, but some of the other customers said she looked like she was running from someone when she got here. She came in alone, so I’m not sure what happened, but … I hope she’s okay.”
“Yeah, she — she told me about that. That’s why I’m here.” Chopper looked down. “Thanks for looking out for her.”
“Of course, no problem.” A couple walked in behind Chopper and the hostess turned her attention to them. She walked away into the seating area, and Chopper backed up to stand beside the door, scanning the place for signs of Kelsey. He pulled out his phone.
“I’m here, babe.”
A minute later, he saw her moving toward him from the back — where the restroom was, he assumed. Her face was pale and he could see a few scratches on her arms and hands. Chopper felt anger smoldering in his chest, If Spike had touched her, there would be hell to pay. He reached out to her when she got close enough, and she gave him a small smile. Her hands were firmly planted on her stomach, Chopper hugged her. “Are you okay?” he whispered. “Tell me that son of a bitch didn’t do anything to you.”
“No,” she said. But her expression was tense and unhappy. She glanced at him. “You didn’t go back to the house, did you? They might still be there.”
He shook his head. “I figured they would be. We’ll just get a room or something for tonight. Whatever they do to that place can be fixed.” He grinned. “Best part is, technically Spike will be paying for it.”
She smiled back, but it was strained. He felt a pang of sympathy. “Let’s get out of here,” he said quietly, taking her by the hand. Kelsey followed him out to the sidewalk, but when she saw his bike, she balked.
“I don’t know if I should get on that,” she said uneasily. Her hands seemed to tighten on her belly.
Chopper grimaced, annoyed with himself even though he knew he had no choice. “I’m sorry, Kels,” he told her. “I couldn’t get a car out of the garage, with them all blocking me in.” In retrospect, he supposed a car might have vastly simplified his confrontation on the road, but that hardly mattered now. “Come on,” he said, urging her gently forward. “I know a place that’s close to here. I’m friends with the guy who owns it. We’ll be safe.”
She remained reluctant. “I think —” Suddenly her voice cut off into a whimper of pain. Kelsey doubled over, both hands clenching.
“What’s wrong?” In his panic, the question came out sounding more like a demand. All she could do was shake her head. He brushed a piece of hair from her face and, seeing that her eyes were wet with tears, started to feel the first inklings of an unfamiliar emotion: fear.
“I need to see a doctor,” she gasped. “Now. We have to go to the hospital.”
“Then we’re going to have to take the bike, and you’re gonna have to hold on real tight, okay?” He guided her over to the motorcycle and helped her get her leg over the back. Once she was perched on the seat, he saw where her concerns came from; even to him, she looked precarious. But she didn’t protest, her worries overridden by pure survival instinct. Chopper didn’t waste another second. He jumped on in front of her, made sure her arms were wrapped securely around him, and peeled away from the curb. Kelsey huddled behind him, silent except for the occasional moan. He wanted to say something comforting, but he didn’t even know where to start. All he knew was that he blamed Spike, and Spike was going to pay.