CHAPTER EIGHT
Rocker sat his bike beside T-Bear and Moke, in the dark alley beside a pool parlor. Paddy's was a joint on East Sprague, a tough area of Spokane. The city was doing their best to clean up, but it was an on-going struggle.
It being Saturday night, the streets were busy, full of cars, groups of partiers dodging traffic to the bars on both sides of the strip, prostitutes strutting their stuff, and homeless panhandling for smokes and money for drinks.
The night was alive with the sounds of traffic, voices and the muffled thump of bass from the bar on the other side of the alley.
A cop car rolled slowly by every now and then, causing the hookers to scatter. A pair of them hustled into the alley where the Flyers sat their bikes, scurrying away from the streetlight.
One girl called to the bikers. "Hey, guys, wanna take us for a ride?"
"Maybe," T-Bear answered, a teasing lilt in his deep voice.
A chorus of giggles answered him.
"No," Rocker said, not ungently. "Go on now. And be careful out there." Not that they would. Driven by fear of their pimp or a twisted love, by addiction, or just the need for food and a place to stay, they'd do whatever it took.
He'd never been with a prostitute, and having seen what he'd seen in his years on the force, he never would. Plenty of lonely guys did, that was their business, not his.
"Hey," T-Bear complained as the girls strutted back out onto the street. "I might've wanted to hit that."
"Got a job to do here," Rocker reminded him.
"I know, protectin' Lesa's little sis. Now there's a bodacious babe, although she's so shy I ain't even sure what color them big eyes are."
"Why is that?"
"'Cause she's always got her eyes down, glued to her phone or the floor. She was out with Pete and Lesa a couple weeks ago, an' they stopped in the club. Couldn't get her to look at me."
Moke chuckled. "That's 'cause you ain't wavin' a big sword or some shit. She's a gamer. Seen her thumbs fly, making them moves on her phone."
"Well, that leaves me out," T-Bear said. "Can't hardly get both my thumbs on my phone at the same time, much less move 'em around all quick and nimble like that. 'Swhy I like your video game console, Rock. I can do that."
"You played that new Elven Wars game?" Rocker asked him. "The one with the hot redhead, and the flaming balls of whatever being tossed around?"
"Hell, yeah," T-Bear agreed. "That's a great game."
"So it must sell like condoms at a biker rally," Rocker said. "I knew it."
"Knew what?" Moke asked.
"Tell you later." Rocker was thinking hard, and he did not like what he was thinking. Billie was smart, anyone could see that. And she was heavily involved in helping edit the game for her geek friend. The cocksucker should be paying her, probably a lot.
T-Bear sighed gustily. "How long we gonna wait for these little pricks to show their faces?"
"Long as it takes," Rocker said, moving to a more comfortable position.
"Fu-uck," T-Bear groaned. "I was afraid you were gonna say that. Man, you ex-cops have stamina. I musta missed the stake-out gene."
"Whatchu talkin' about?" Moke asked. "You're wearin' jeans, I seen 'em. Unless you stripped down, 'cause it's dark as shit back here. But it's also fuckin' cold, so don't know why you would, just sayin'."
"Not them kinda jeans, you dumbass," T-Bear said. "I mean genes, the shit that runs how we're made. What kinda skills we come with."
"Not sure you came with any, big man," Moke chided. "Now me, I got plenty skills."
T-Bear growled. "You better be shinin' me on, you big pineapple. Far as I can see, your skills are ridin', drinkin' beer and eatin' your own weight up in food."
"Hey, bikes, beer and grinds da best," Moke retorted. "And hangin' out on a beach. If it don't warm up around here soon, I'm gonna have to ride south and find me one, with wahines in bikinis on it. 'Cause dat's even better."
Rocker listened to them squabble, his gaze on the back of the alley. He was ready to ride somewhere himself--back to his place where a sweet, goofy, sexy woman was waiting.
Although, fuck him, he should stay away from her. As his buddy Pete had said of her older sister, 'the woman has forever and a minivan written all over her'.
He grinned to himself, thinking Billie would likely go for a state-of-the-art gaming system over a minivan.
Anyway, he didn't want to keep her, but he sure as hell wanted to fuck her.
Then the back door of Paddy's opened, and a trio of young males came out. The one in the lead was a few inches under six feet, skinny with a shock of dirty blond hair in a faux-hawk. He wore jeans, a tee and a leather vest duded up with so many buckles, chains and shit hanging off it, Rocker figured that's why his posture was so poor.
He was followed by a stocky guy with a beany pulled over his hair, clad in dirty Carharts and a tank despite the chill. The third was a dark-skinned kid with a sullen face and black hair in corn-rows.
"Me first," Rocker said. He pushed off, hitting the throttle gently. His bike glided forward, his headlight off, blending in with the sounds of traffic on the street until he reached the end of the alley, and followed the three into the small parking lot.
They walked to a tricked-out, yellow Honda and climbed in, Whitey in the driver's seat. Rocker waited until they backed out and headed out of the parking lot, then glided after them. As they turned out into the street to hit his headlight, he followed.
T-Bear and Moke fell in behind him, sharing a lane.
Rocker clocked the instant Whitey spotted them tailing him. He gunned his engine at a yellow light, and then peeled out, making a left turn in front of an oncoming SUV and barely missing another car turning from the far lane. Blaring horns followed his tail-lights onto a north-bound street.
Behind Rocker, T-Bear's booming laugh sounded over the motors. He pulled up beside Rocker, waggling his brows, a ferocious sight in the night lights. "Little shit thinks he's lost us," Bear hollered. "Ain't he gonna be surprised?"
"Gotta love GPS trackers," Rocker called back. He was already following the signal on the small unit placed where he could read it as he rode.
T-Bear was not wrong.
When the three of them rode up a quiet back street in one of the older neighborhoods of North Spokane, and pulled in by the street racer, the three guys standing in the open garage stared at them in shock, then scattered.
Whitey ran for the house across the narrow strip of yard. The other two headed out a back door of the garage.
Rocker gunned his bike across the corner of the crumbling driveway and the strip of muddy lawn. He caught Whitey as the skinny guy reached the narrow steps up onto a stoop. Whitey fell, sprawling on the stairs, and Rocker was off his bike and on him with one swift, smooth motion.
T-Bear and Moke roared past on their bikes, headed for the alley behind the place. Rocker heard T-Bear shout something.
"So, Whitey," Rocker gritted, holding the skinny guy down with a knee in his back and a handful of dirty blond hair. "Why'd you run? Just wanna have a friendly chat."
"Get the fuck off me! Whaddya fuckin' Flyers want with me?" Simms demanded.
"Well, it's sure not the pleasure of your company, 'cause you stink." Rocker lifted Whitey's head and slammed it back down on the edge of the worn, filthy wooden step. His captive grunted as his cheekbone struck wood. "I'm here to deliver a warning. You leave Billie Boggs alone. You don't go near her, you don't mess with her house, you don't even think about her. You get me?"
"I don't even know the bitch," Whitey mumbled. "You got the wrong guy. Now lemme alone."
Rocker sighed. "Now how did I know you were gonna need some convincing?" He pulled out his phone with his free hand and hit a number. "We're gonna need the van," he said. "Pickup for three."
"All right," Snake rasped in his ear. "Where you at?"
Rocker gave him the street and house number. Snake coughed, the rattling sound of a heavy smoker. "Be there in twenty."
Simms struggled with wiry strength under him, possibly powered by meth or speed. Without seeing his pupils, hard to tell what he was on. "You're not takin' me anywhere, asshole! Fuckin' try it, and we'll kill you. You Flyers think you can run the county and everyone in it. Fucked my sister over, now you think you're gonna fuck with me? I'll fuck you up."
He went on while Rocker yanked the flexible cuffs from the back of his belt, and hauled Whitey's arms behind his back, cuffing his wrists securely.
Finally, Rocker got tired of listening and slammed Whitey's head on the step once more. "We'd have left you alone, if you'd left our family alone, you idiot. But you're as dumb as your sister. You brought this on yourself by being mean, just like she got her ass fired for being mean. Now do yourself a favor and shut the hell up."
He rose to his feet, blowing out a hard breath to get rid of the smell of cheap cologne, weed, sweat and booze. Fuck, nights like this made him grateful he was no longer on the force. Used to deal with multiple perps like Simms every time he went to work. Now, it was only once in a while, but still too often.
At least he didn't have to turn Simms over to jail, just to watch him walk out a few days later. Flyer prisoners didn't get to call a lawyer and post bail.
On the other hand, they didn't have to wait months or years to learn their fate, either. The wheels of Devil's Flyer justice ground swiftly and mercilessly.
Two bikes rumbled back into the yard. T-Bear had a passenger, but Moke was alone. He shook his head in disgust. "That dude with the braids was fast. Skinned right over a fence, through a yard and gone before the dog inside had time to do more'n yip. Lights went on in the house, so I wasn't gonna follow him and end up being the one the cops catch."
"Get this shithead off my bike, would ya?" T-Bear asked, idling up beside Rocker. "He stinks."
The stocky guy in the beany was perched behind him, hands cuffed behind him. He looked scared and sullen.
Rider hauled the guy off T-Bear's bike, and pushed him to sit beside Whitey, who now lay on his side on the steps, groaning a little each time he breathed. Blood ran down his face in a dark streak.
"Whadja do to him?" the stocky guy demanded, his voice cracking.
"Not much more than you three did to a pretty woman on a public bus," Rocker said, his voice hard. "You mess with Flyer family, we mess with you, harder."
The guy groaned. Then he leaned over and vomited off the side of the porch.
T-Bear backed away. "Whoa, lucky he didn't do that while he's ridin' with me. Would've tossed him off in the street an' run over his ass."
Rocker moved back as well. "Just be glad you're not driving the van. The ride probably won't do him much good either."
The three Flyers shared a chuckle. Snake was gonna be pissed if he had to hose down his old van.