Adam looked at his men, all of them. Every member of Scarred Angels who could walk was here, all of them armed to teeth and ready for war. His entire life, Adam had wanted to join Scarred Angels. The only pleasant memories he had of his father was sitting and watching the older man work on his bike. Adam could still remember his father’s grease stained fingers, the knuckles, and the hard, calloused hands. The only time his father was a real father was when he was working on his bike. He and Adam would spend hours together, his father pointing out the million different pieces of the bike, and Adam, so desperate to please him, had memorized every one.
Then it was the same with his uncle. Bill stayed away from the hard drugs. He was a hardworking, quiet man. On that fateful day when Bill had come to rescue Adam from the Kane Home for Young boys, Adam had been terrified. He remembered his uncle as a constant thorn in his father’s side. Bill was the name that was cursed in the house. His father was always talking about Bill and how he thought himself so much better than the rest. Then Adam had met the man himself, quiet and imposing.
But even as a young boy, Adam knew the reason his father hated his brother was because Bill refused to give them money. His father would call and beg, lie, and bargain for cash and while Bill was willing to pay the electricity or buy school clothes for Adam, he refused to give outright cash. Bill was well aware that the money requested wasn’t for a field trip for Adam; it was for crack and he refused to enable them. Bill would call and try anything to get Adam’s father into rehab, or to rescue Adam from the house. But Adam’s parents wouldn’t hear of it. They refused to quit the drugs and they refused to give up their son. And eventually, just as predicted, the state had come for them and Adam and the family had been ripped apart.
Scarred Angels was how Adam and Bill finally connected. After school, Adam would go to the garage where his uncle worked and he would watch the older man meticulously take apart a complex machine, find the problem, and put it back together. Adam helped, how could he not? He had been trained from an early age. In the garage, he met the other members of Scarred Angels. He met Joey’s father. Members of Scarred Angels had picked him up from school, had made him dinner, taught him how to drive right. From the age of eleven all Adam wanted was to be a member, to always have these brothers in his life.
Now they all stood before him. Adam felt like a general, but a woefully prepared one. He was their leader now. He would have to be the one to tell them to go. He would tell this man to go here and another to go there. Who would live, who would die, no one could say. It wasn’t up to fate; it was up to Adam. He didn’t know what he would do if one of them fell, if someone died because of the decisions he made.
He should have tried harder to figure out who was hurting the Kanes. At the time, he had left it to the police. People would say what they wanted about cops, but he knew when a family like the Kanes was on the line, the police would stop at nothing until the killer was captured. Adam had assumed that his job was protection and nothing more. But he was protecting the Kanes against a specific target and they hadn’t done enough to figure out who the attacker was. And now they were going to war.
And what about Dakota? Sweet, kind, gentle Dakota. Dakota was the kind of person who snuck out at night to get toys for a crying boy, who actually worked at her charities, who worked to make the world a better place. But it was more than that. Yes she was kind, but she was also sexy. Still he could remember the touch of her skin, the way it felt to be inside of her, the cries she let out in the throes of passion. Dakota, standing by his workbench wearing only an old t-shirt of Adam’s, he could still see her, the sunlight glinting off of her hair.
Did she think he would ever hurt her? That he would ever allow anyone to hurt her? Never. Not even Scarred Angels, the group he was sworn to above all others; he would never allow them to hurt her, to trade her in. Not that they would have. Scarred Angels would get Joey back, not by trade, but by war. They would find the Stealers where they rested and they would root them all out. They would burn their clubhouse to the ground and salt the ashes. But they would never have traded an innocent life.
Is that what Dakota thought? That her life was in danger, that Adam might hurt her? Didn’t she understand how precious she was to him, how important? But he looked over his sea of men and knew they were just as important. It wasn’t an either or scenario; it was all of them. They were all going to survive. It was the Soul Stealers who would fall.
They were in a garage warehouse that belonged to the gang. It was where they kept their bikes and some of their illegal items they didn’t want the police knowing about. The garage was outfitted like a bunker, but tonight they weren’t going to stay safe at home; they were going to go out and hunt the Stealers down. Adam felt a nudge on his shoulder. It was Bill, reminding him there was work to be done and Adam needed to do it.
Launching himself up on a cement platform Adam looked out at the men assembled before him. He knew them all, men he had ridden with, fought with, partied with, and mourned with. He looked at them all and then, clearing his throat, he said to them, “Tonight isn’t going to be easy, and it isn’t going to be safe. Echo Lane is bad; the Stealers are worse. There will be fighting and bloodshed and death. But they have one of our own, and we will not permit that to stand. Much will be required tonight, but I know we have what we need. If any one of you isn't prepared for this, isn’t ready for what we’re about to face, then leave now, because our plan needs each and every one of you to work. Everyone has their assignments and everyone must stick to them. If you think you can’t handle it, then walk out this door and know it’s the right thing to do.”
No one moved.
“Joey has been my friend since we were both in school. When the Stealers took him, they thought they could break us. They thought they could tell us what to do. They thought they could rule us. But we are Scarred Angels and no one rules us. Anyone touches us, we will strike back against them a thousand times worse. Let’s ride.” The men around him cheered as Adam descended from the podium. He stopped, looking at his uncle and the older man put one hand on Adam’s shoulder, and then Adam moved on.
He checked the pistol in its holster, and the shotgun attached to the side of the bike. He strapped his helmet into place and heard his bike roar to life beneath him with the sound of four other bikes. He was the advanced guard. They would go, scope the place out, and find out how many men and guns, how many buildings. They would formulate the plan of attack and the rest of Scarred Angels would follow.
He thought of Dakota one last time, imagining her kiss, the feel of her skin, her laugh. And then he banished her from his mind. Dakota was too sweet and kind; he couldn’t think of her and do what he needed to do. He needed to be tough and resilient, and cruel if it called for it. He needed to be iron and stone. He needed to be judgmental thunder brought down from the heavens. He needed to cause fear in who he was about to meet. But he couldn’t do that and think of her. He needed to turn off the Adam she loved and turn on the Adam that men feared.