"It looks like…Pleasantville,” Nate said as he looked out the window of the SUV that Cade was driving. Cade smiled. He couldn’t wait to see Nate’s reaction to the town after he found out that the quaint old-fashioned-looking hamlet was run by a powerful motorcycle gang.
“It’s nice,” Marcus said. “Looks like a quiet place. You haven’t mentioned why we’re here, though.”
Cade had flown back from Wyoming with Bobbie two days before. He got a call and a desperate plea for help from his old friend Greg Bunker while he was there. Greg was currently the president of the Infidels, the Motorcycle Club that ran the small Nevada town they were now entering. Cade hesitated to get his team involved in this one. The Motorcycle Club had the potential to be a dangerous group, but not half as dangerous as the people who wanted to bring them down. He’d mulled over it for a day and then decided instead of trying to explain his relationship with Bunker and the situation in Nevada to his team, he’d take them there, let them meet the people involved, and decide on their own about whether they wanted to take it on or not.
This wasn’t going to be their typical job. Normally, they offered protection and occasionally investigative services, but this job bordered more along the lines of trained assassins. Cade was sure that none of them would agree to it if he didn’t push them, and that was more than okay with him. He wouldn’t push them, but by taking them there and letting them decide on their own, he would be fulfilling his obligation to his friend and respecting the fact that although the security company was named after him, it would be nothing without the input of the entire team.
“It’s a potential job,” he said. The chatter between Nate and Grant in the middle row and Billy Joe in the far back died down immediately. “But we’re approaching this one a little differently than usual. I didn’t tell the client that we would take it. It’s the first request I’ve gotten that I was almost sure none of you would want any part of. But I wanted the four of you to have a chance to hear and see what the client wants and then cast a vote. This case is worlds apart from our norm, so I’m not going to tell you that you have to take it. I want to hear your reservations and your ideas.” Cade knew he’d only made them more curious, but that was as much as he wanted to tell them. He thought they’d be able to better make their decision after they heard what Bunker had to say. “I also want you to know how much I appreciate you all picking up so much slack while I’ve been preoccupied. I know you’ve all been curious about why I’ve been MIA so much for the past ten months or so.”
“Us? Curious?” Billy Joe said with a grin. “Never.”
Cade smiled. His team was naturally curious—it was one of the things that made them such great investigators. But Billy was beyond curious; he was one of the nosiest gossips he’d ever met. He usually took it upon himself to find out everyone’s business in the small mountain town where they lived in Texas. Then he’d sit down at Benny’s, the bar that they treated more like an office, and talked to Mickey, Marcus’s über-nosy father-in-law and owner of the bar. Cade had referred to the two of them as “old hens” more than once, but in truth he found their rituals more amusing than annoying…most of the time.
They were about fifteen minutes from their rendezvous point with Bunker. Cade figured that was enough time to get most of it out and he cleared his voice. He was an extremely private person and wasn’t used to spilling his guts, but he had a responsibility to his team and more than that, he considered them his friends. He began by telling them Bobbie had a baby almost four years prior, and that it was his. He told them about the plantation in New Orleans, Adele, the deceased doctor, and the Gleasons. Marcus already knew most of the story, but he sat as quietly as the rest of them and listened until Cade was finished. He was turning onto the dirt road that led to the Infidels’ clubhouse when he wrapped it up.
“So Bobbie and I are searching for anything that can help us prove she didn’t willingly give up custody of our child. I don’t want someone else raising my son. I’m sorry that it’s taking so much time away from my responsibilities to this team, however, and like I said, I appreciate you all being so dependable.”
They were quiet for several beats before Nate spoke up. “You have a son…that’s so cool.”
The rest of the guys voiced their agreement and even congratulated him, and then Marcus said, “You’ve always been supportive of us, Cade. We won’t let you down.”
“Thanks. Thank you all,” he said gratefully, nodding at them from the rearview mirror. He pulled the rented SUV up to a guardhouse and the guys fell silent again as a heavily armed biker built like a mountain stepped up to the window. Cade rolled it down and said, “Cade Travers and team to see Bunker.” He handed the guy his ID. The biker looked at it and then looked at the men in the car.
“Is Bunker expecting all of you?” he asked in a gravelly voice that sounded like he smoked two packs of cigarettes a day.
“Yes.”
“Hang on.” The biker went back into the little shack and they watched as he picked up a phone on the wall. He had a two or three-minute conversation before going back to the SUV and saying, “I’ll need to see ID on everyone.”
Cade nodded back at the guys and they all pulled out their IDs. The biker took them and examined each one and then as he handed them back to Cade he said, “Are you armed?”
“Yes.”
“You’ll have to leave the guns here. You can have them back when you’re finished.”
Cade didn’t miss the looks on the guys’ faces as he collected their guns and handed them one at a time to the biker. Bunker had already told him the little compound was on strict lockdown precautions, so he wasn’t surprised. The guy put their guns in a safe inside the shack and then did a walk-around inspection of the SUV before finally saying, “Stay on this road until you see a big shop. Park in front of that and ask for Gravy. I’ll tell him you’re coming. He’ll take you to Bunker.”
Cade thanked him and continued down the road.
“Sorry…but what the fuck is this place?” Billy asked warily as soon as the window was up.
Cade chuckled. “It’s the property of a one percent Motorcycle Club that goes by the name of the Infidels. I have an old friend who is the president. They’re in trouble and they need help. I’m going to let him explain it to you all and then I want an honest assessment from you. I don’t want you agreeing to take this job for me just because I brought you here. Only agree if you think it’s something you can handle and a risk you’re willing to take. I’m going to be honest and tell you that if it were only up to me, I’d turn it down in a heartbeat. But I respect your opinions and I want to hear them.”
“That sounds ominous as hell,” Grant said.
“It is,” Cade told him, “and remember that I’m the one who will get his ass kicked by Rosa, Angel, Sadie, and Joy if this goes bad.”
Billy laughed. “I’d normally call a man a pussy for being afraid of four little women, but not that group of ladies. They scare the hell out of me too and I outweigh the four of them put together.”
The other men nodded in agreement. In a space of a couple of years, all four men had found or had been reunited with the love of their lives. As it turned out, all four men were attracted to women that were beautiful on the outside and tough as nails within.
Cade pulled the SUV into a small lot filled with Harleys outside of a big shop. The rolling doors in front were up and they could see several men inside, working on bikes or cars. As they got out of the car they could see, or hear rather, why the men hadn’t seemed to notice them yet. Deafeningly loud heavy metal music was vibrating through the metal building.
“Jesus, it’s hot,” Grant said, wiping sweat from his forehead. His carefully styled hair was slowly going limp. The desert air hit them like a heater in the face as soon as they were outside the air-conditioned vehicle. The men in the shop were in varying states of dress. The oldest of the three, a man with a grizzly-looking gray beard, wore a pair of gray coveralls with an Infidels patch on the chest. The man working on a light blue classic Mustang was in jeans and no shirt and the third man, who they could only see from behind as he worked on a Classic Soft-Tail Harley Davidson, was wearing jeans, a white-t-shirt, and his leather “cut.” The cut was just a leather vest, but it had the Infidel symbol, which was simply a white skull inside a red oval. The skull wore a cap that was red, white, and blue. Cade headed toward the shop and the other men followed him. They hadn’t quite made it to the door when the guy working on the Mustang suddenly pulled his head out from under the hood and the men found themselves facing the 10-inch barrel of a Smith and Wesson .500 X-Frame.
Cade put his hands up and said, “Cade Travers, I’m looking for Gravy.”
The guy looked over at the older man, who still hadn’t looked up from what he was doing. “Gravy!” he yelled at the top of his lungs. When the older man still didn’t look up, the younger one kicked a metal-framed creeper in his direction. It struck the toolbox in front of him and the man looked up, obviously annoyed.
“What the fuck, Stryker?”
The younger man gestured toward Cade and the men with a jerk of his head. “Company.”
Gravy looked Cade and the others over and then reached over and pushed a button on the stereo to turn off the music. “Who are you?”
“My name is Cade Travers and these are my associates. I’m here to meet with Bunker. The guy at the gate said to ask for you.”
The older man fished a phone out of the pocket of his coveralls and looked at it before nodding at the man still holding the gun.
“The Polaris is out back. Stryker, take them out to it while I wash my hands and let Bunker know we’re coming.”
Stryker didn’t look happy about the order, but he tucked the gun back in his waistband and said, “Follow me.”
The five men followed him through the shop, which Cade didn’t fail to notice was filled with high-end cars and parts for those cars. Their inventory had to be worth hundreds of thousands of dollars. He knew that Bunker and his club had come a long way since the early days of “outlaw” bikers, but obviously, some of their old habits remained. Cade, who had upheld and respected the law all his adult life, found it slightly overwhelming to stand in the midst of all that stolen revenue.
Stryker led them through a door in the back of the shop where a Polaris ATV was parked. It was one of the big, deluxe models and had room for six.
As the men started climbing in Stryker looked at Cade and said, “We don’t need help to handle our own.”
Cade looked at the man’s patch. It had the letters “SAA,” which in biker language stood for Sergeant at Arms. The SAA was responsible for keeping the peace within the club. They were usually the first to go into dangerous situations and the men the executive board of the club looked to when they needed a heavy hitter at their side. He was obviously threatened by Cade and his team’s presence there.
“Bunker invited us, so I guess you’ll have to take that up with him.”
The guy narrowed his green eyes. “Look, I don’t know who the fuck you are, or who the fuck you think you are…”
“Shut up, Stryker,” a voice behind him said. Gravy was coming out the door they had just come out of. He had taken off his coveralls and was wearing a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and his own leather cut that said, “Retired President” on the patch. It meant he no longer had voting rights within the club, nor did he generally go on bike “runs” with them any longer. But his title when he retired had obviously afforded him a lifetime of respect. Stryker stiffened his spine and immediately stopped talking. “This is the guy that saved Bunker’s life way back when. You’ll show him some respect while he’s here.”
Stryker mumbled an agreement to Gravy as Cade climbed into the ATV. The other guys had been watching his exchange with Stryker and he could almost hear the wheels turning in all their heads. They all came from great stock. Grant and Marcus had been Navy SEALs and they were both highly decorated and two of the bravest men Cade had ever met. Nate was more laid-back than the rest of them, but he was smart and capable and he knew the law like the back of his hand. And Billy Joe had grown right out of the mountain and would face a Grizzly bear without flinching if he had to. Cade knew they wouldn’t be intimidated by the members of the MC, but that wasn’t who the real enemy was anyway.
Gravy got in the driver’s seat and Stryker stood watching them until the Polaris was out of sight. He drove them further along the dirt road until they came to a narrow paved one where he made a quick right turn and drove for another two miles or so with nothing but desert around them. The clubhouse was a sight to behold when it came into view at last. It was built of white brick and the Infidels logo was painted in dark red paint across the front of it. Without the logo, the building might have looked like a roller rink or conference center of some kind, except, of course, the line of Harley Davidsons in front and the two men that stood on either side of the front door, armed with automatic weapons.
“Bunker’s expecting you,” Gravy told Cade. “Follow the prospect there; he’ll take you to him.”
Cade looked over and a young man with “Prospect” stitched across the front of his cut was standing in the doorway, holding the door open for them. As soon as all the guys were off the Polaris, Gravy took off back toward the shop. As they walked toward the door of the club, none of the men spoke but Cade knew they were all observantly taking it all in. He couldn’t wait to hear their thoughts after their meeting with Bunker. It would be interesting…to say the least.