Chopper
Chopper preferred the war room when it was empty. Nothing but him, his plans, and the same four walls that had held the secrets of the Savage Outlaws for years. Much as he loved his Outlaw family, no one knew better than him that meetings could sometimes get a little rowdy, especially when they were talking expansion—like now. So, he always made a point to give himself some time alone to sort things out before inviting opinions. Not that it really mattered; he hadn’t gotten to the top by worrying about anyone else.
He stood over the big table in the center of the room with his hands planted firmly on either side of an unfurled map, his eyes tracing the familiar boundaries of rival territory. This was where old Spike Lawler and his Mongol boys were running their incredibly lucrative drug trade, an illicit business that was bringing money to the Mongols MC in spades. Chopper had had enough of standing on the sidelines. He wanted the prize for himself.
Picking up a marker, he outlined the territory in red, marking it as his next target. In his mind, the deed was as good as done.
But he still needed a plan. The beef between the Savage Outlaws MC and the Mongols went back to Chopper’s youth, and it only intensified when Spike took the reins. With so much animosity still hanging between them, Chopper knew this wouldn’t be an easy take. Lawler would fight tooth and nail to keep his precious livelihood from falling into anyone else’s hands, and for that, Chopper couldn’t blame him. It was a dog-eat-dog world out there. Once he broke the Mongols down, everything they had would be his for the taking.
It was easier said than done. Chopper was well aware of the prevailing opinion that the Mongols could win a scrap against anyone, including his own Outlaws. Many a fight had been started and finished over those words, and it still rankled him that the whispers had yet to cease. Every time he saw Spike Lawler’s ugly mug or heard his name, the spite grew.
Taking down the Mongols had long ago become an issue more of pride than of practicality, though. Chopper never turned down a profit. Fortunately, he had an ace up his sleeve. A week ago, he’d sent a mole to infiltrate the Mongol ranks and bring back any intel he might be able to use against them.
And that little venture had paid off real nicely.
Word was that Lawler had a new old lady. “A real piece of work,” the mole had said. No one knew exactly where this woman came from — she’d most likely just been one of innumerable conquests Spike had picked up while trawling the bar by his compound. But, he was reportedly proud of her, and from just a cursory description, Chopper understood why: tall, dark hair, blue eyes, legs for miles. Spike would be beside himself trying to keep a goddess like that by his side. He’d be crowing over her like a goddamn rooster. And as soon as he heard about her, Chopper knew he had to steal her away. Not for himself — the Outlaws had their fair share of beautiful women — but to shatter Spike’s spirit in one powerful blow. It was an old war tactic: crush the leader and the rest scattered.
Chopper scrutinized the map, crossing key locations with a red X. Spike’s compound, Diamond’s Bar, the ratty shop where the Mongols got their rides serviced, anywhere he might be able to find and nab the girl. Some of the locations were off the table immediately — there was no way in hell he or his boys could set foot in Diamond’s without an immediate brawl. And Chopper knew that, as much as he disliked the Mongols, they were tough sons-of-bitches. One wrong move, and he’d lose men. At this stage, it was not a sacrifice he was willing to make. So, he set his sights on other, slightly more vulnerable territory, looking toward the outer bounds of Lawler’s turf.
As he tried to plot a route, a frown took up residence on his face. He put the marker down. There wasn’t enough information yet. He needed to know more. Weaknesses, opportunities, the inner workings of the Mongols’ precious little kingdom. He sighed, rubbing a hand across his face and thinking for the umpteenth time that Lawler wasn’t worth the frustration. If only the Mongols didn’t have so much goddamn money …
Chopper pushed himself up off the table and fished his phone out of his back pocket. He dialed the number of his trusty mole.
“Chop?” The kid’s voice was friendly and expectant. She knew that whenever the head of the Savage Outlaws called her personally, there was serious work to be done. Chopper liked her. A real go-getter. And real good at getting into places he couldn’t.
“Yeah, Mickey,” Slater said. “I’m gonna need you to go undercover one more time.”
“Sure thing, prez,” Mickey replied. “What am I looking for?”
“This stays between you and me.” Chopper picked his next words very carefully. “Tell me how to get Spike’s lady.”
Mickey asked for a week to get the job done. Normally, Chopper might have told her to get her ass in gear, but this time he granted the request. The plan was too important to risk anything going awry. He swallowed his own impatience and focused on what he was going to ask of Spike in exchange for his old lady’s safe return. A cut of the drug money? A redrawing of the trade limits to include part of Chopper’s jurisdiction? So many possibilities…
It didn’t take long for Chopper to decide to do away with compromise entirely. His Savage Outlaw pride wouldn’t allow for the Mongols to come away with any remaining sense of superiority. On the bottom of the map, he wrote “ALL OR NOTHING” in big block letters, then hung it up on the back wall of the war room before he called his boys for a meeting.
When they strolled in, they took one look at the message and grinned.
“All right, Boss, lay it on us.” Red perched on the edge of the table, hands jammed in his pockets like always. The others clustered around, uncharacteristically quiet. Their eyes bored into Chopper with great trust and great expectation. Chopper had never before felt so much like a mastermind.
He shrugged, ever nonchalant. “I got Mickey in there as we speak,” he said. “Once I hear back, we roll.”
Red nodded. “We gonna burn ‘em out or what?” A murmur went through the group, followed by a flurry of excited fidgeting. Chopper couldn’t help but smile. If there was anything his Outlaws loved, it was some good old-fashioned mayhem. And he knew for a fact that they made a mean Molotov cocktail.
“Not yet,” he said. They grumbled, but he continued unfazed. “Truth be told, I’d rather not scrap with the Mongols. That’s why Mickey’s working. You want to die? Feel free to bust into Diamond’s. But I ain’t planning on burying any of you.” His smile came back. “Don’t worry. This time we’re hitting Spike where it hurts.”
As he detailed the plan, he saw grudging approval come into their faces. There was never a day that the Outlaws wouldn’t prefer a fight, but even they had to admit that this level of subterfuge was worthy of respect.
“What if he ain’t cooperating?” piped up Hoss, the Outlaws’ biggest and rowdiest member. “Can we fight ‘em then?” His question was met with general agreement.
“If Spike doesn’t cooperate, then we may be forced to take a more hands-on course of action,” Chopper conceded. The men whooped. “But I want to make one thing very clear.” He waited until they had more or less settled down and stared each of them in the face. “No matter what happens, no one lays a finger on the woman, you understand? This ain’t about her. It’s about putting the screws to Spike Lawler. She’s just our insurance.”
Deep down, Chopper understood that policies such as his were likely the reason behind the Outlaw’s reputation as “softer” than their rivals. Any other MC would probably throw Spike’s old lady to its own wolves — even if the bastard agreed to all their terms. But the women of the Outlaws were some of the toughest humans Chopper had ever known. It took some huge brass balls to be able to hang with the boys. He was only giving credit where credit was due.
And if this one was sleeping with Spike, she deserved credit for that, too. The guy had a face like a junkyard rat; Chopper didn’t want to think about what the rest of him might look like. He wondered yet again how a scum bucket like Spike had laid hands on such an alleged beauty. Was she stolen from someone else? He wouldn’t be surprised, but he still made his men swear not to harm her. Bikes and drugs were one thing — he would not manhandle a woman.
Not unless she begged him for it.
# # #
Three days after the meeting, Mickey came into the compound. She was a rare sight around those parts, and Chopper knew instantly that she must have something important on her mind. He invited her into the war room and shut the door. “What’s up?” he asked.
She fidgeted nervously, wrapping a strand of coppery hair around her finger. “You’re not gonna like this, Chop,” she said. “I got out of there as soon as I could.”
Chopper’s mind raced, conjuring up all kinds of crazy potential scenarios. He prepared himself to hear that Spike somehow knew about the Outlaw’s imminent attack, that he had drummed up an insurmountable defense. Or worse, that the tables were about to be turned, and Spike was coming for them.
“What do you know?” he demanded. “Tell me!”
Mickey took a deep breath, wrapping her long arms around herself. “Look, don’t shoot the messenger, okay?” she said. “But I heard Spike’s lady is pregnant. He’s keeping her pretty tight under wraps.” She looked like she wanted to say more, but clamped her mouth shut at the last minute.
“Shit.” Chopper turned away and began to pace the length of the room. This news was both better and worse than he had expected. If it was true, it might even increase the pressure on Spike to get his woman back, which all worked in the favor of the Outlaws. But if Lawler was keeping his eye on her at all times, Chopper knew it’d be a fool’s errand to try to wrangle her out of there.
He turned on his heel, heading back toward the spot where Mickey stood. She watched him warily.
“It’s none of my business,” she began. “I know that. But you’re not gonna do anything to her, are you, Chop? She’s got a baby in there.”
Chopper glanced up, momentarily jarred from his musings. Mickey’s face was a mask of worry. He sighed.
“No,” he muttered. “And unless you saw her yourself, she might not. But I’m still taking her. You said Spike’s watching her all the time?”
For half a second, Mickey’s face clouded with vague disappointment, as if she’d expected Chopper to call the whole thing off. Then she shook herself off and was back to business, mollified by his answer. “Not all the time,” she said, her voice tinged with disdain. “I don’t have to tell you that old dog is gonna make a lousy dad. And she’s gonna have to leave to go to her doctor appointments.”
“What if he goes with her?”
Mickey snorted. “Are you kidding me? Spike Lawler wouldn’t be caught dead anywhere near a baby clinic. No, I’ll bet a million dollars she does that all by herself.”
“All right. Thanks, Mick.” Chopper walked past her and opened the door, motioning for her to precede him.
She caught his eye as she went out. “You know,” she said softly, “I was studying to be a nurse before I got wrapped up in this scene. I spent a lot of time with babies and kids and stuff.”
“Uh huh.” Chopper looked away. The sudden turn of the exchange made him uncomfortable for reasons he couldn’t really explain.
Mickey hesitated. The brief silence hung in the air while he waited for her to finish the thought. But then she threw up her hands and scoffed. “I don’t even know why I’m talking about this. Just don’t … don’t do anything stupid, Chop. That’s it; that’s all I’m gonna say. I’m out of here.” The last he saw of her was her back as he stood dumbly in the hall outside the war room, watching her leave.
Her words stuck in the back of his mind. Don’t do anything stupid.
He grimaced, pushing them away. What the hell did Mickey know? She was a good scout, but he didn’t care about her nursing, and he didn’t care about the pregnancy, except for how it affected his plans. So, Spike’s old lady might be pregnant — even more reason not to lay hands on her once he’d snatched her up, as far as he was concerned. Besides, he knew the whole thing could easily just be a rumor that got a little out of control. Motorcycle clubs weren’t immune to gossip.
He took a deep breath and told himself none of that mattered. He had what he needed from Mickey, which meant that his men could be mobilized. Full steam ahead.
On his walk through the compound to find Red, Chopper could feel the adrenaline already pumping through his blood. Despite the less-than-optimal new circumstances, it was a huge relief to do something other than sit around and wait. And it was always refreshing to know that even after years of duking it out with the Mongols, he could still feel the thrill of the fight.
He found Red in the game room, frowning over a game of pool. As he approached the table, Chopper grabbed a cue off the wall and lined up a shot. “We’re ready,” he said in a conversational tone, not even looking up from the felt. “Get some boys together for a Mongol stakeout.” His shot fired off, sinking a solid into the corner pocket. “Don’t know how long it’s gonna take, but as soon as you see her, grab her.”
Red stared at the table contemplatively. “She gonna leave for sure?”
“Yep.” Chopper didn’t know until that moment whether or not he was going to tell anyone else about the theoretical baby, and he decided not to. He knew that if it was real, eventually she would start to show, but maybe this would all be done by then, and he could wash his hands of the whole thing. “Remember what I said, man. No one touches her.”
“No worries.” Red turned away from the game and hung up his cue. “We’ll save that shit for the boss man.” He grinned, winked, and slipped out, the second person in less than ten minutes to leave Chopper alone with his thoughts. Chopper wandered over to the sofa and dropped himself onto it, the leather squeaking beneath him.
He ran his hands through his hair. This wasn’t really what he’d bargained for when he made the choice to challenge the Mongols. In fact, this kind of drama was exactly what he’d hoped to avoid by not confronting Spike directly. He shook his head. It never failed; in this life, complications always found him.
But who said it had to be complicated? Baby or no baby, all he was doing was transferring custody of Spike’s old lady to the Savage Outlaws for a while. As long as Lawler didn’t pull anything crazy, he could have her back, for all Chopper cared. He wasn’t interested in the girl, only in the price she’d command. And once Chopper got what he wanted, as he always did, he’d set her free. If she chose to go back to the Mongol leader, that was her problem, not his.
His phone went off, pulling him out of his fugue. He checked the caller ID and thumbed the green button when he saw his shop come up on the screen. Bike Out of Hell was his pet project, his pride and joy, his not-so-secret chop shop. Just seeing its name brightened his spirits.
“This is Chopper,” he said, getting to his feet. Even if they didn’t need him to come down, he thought he would anyway, just to look at the place. It soothed him to be there among the machines he loved most. Sure, some of them were stolen, but in his view, if a man couldn’t take proper measures to protect his ride, he didn’t deserve it anyway. Dog-eat-dog world and all that.
“Hey, boss. We got some new acquisitions this afternoon, if you wanna come take a look. Think they’ll make us a pretty penny.”
It was everything Chopper needed to hear. He felt himself grinning. “You just made my week,” he answered. Suddenly, nothing seemed half as gloomy as it had a moment ago. He whistled as he headed out for the shop. It was all going according to plan.