Riding back up the road towards Millhaven with over a hundred bikers behind me was thrilling. We had the twenty from the Oregon branch, plus nearly fifty combined from the Nevada branches in Reno and Las Vegas. Add to that the fifty-seven riders from the California branches who had agreed to join with us and we were doing pretty good.
Of course, no one knew exactly how many men Emilio had in his club, but I doubted it was that many. We would outnumber them by at least two to one.
I smiled a little and then turned my bike off into a truck stop, listening to everyone else roar down off the highway with me.
“All right, everyone,” I said when we were all parked. “This is our final pit stop before we split up. Let's get some food in us, and if anyone has any last questions about the plan, make sure to ask them now.” There was silence, and I shrugged. “All right, inside!”
We had decided that splitting up into smaller groups as we came back into town was a better idea so that we could avoid detection from Emilio and the Flames — and the local authorities as well, to a certain extent. Of course, they couldn't arrest us just for riding motorcycles, but they would have to know something was up if a giant swarm of a hundred bikers all came roaring into town, and the last thing we needed was for the cops to interfere.
So instead, we would all come at the town from different directions. And in weather like this, we could practically guarantee that every able member of the Flames would be out riding in a cluster, since it was one of the last nice days of fall. We would surround them, keeping our same formations, and … Well, hopefully that would be the end of all our problems with the Holy Flames MC.
Sure enough, as we rode towards town, my group flew past Emilio's group heading out along the highway towards the mountains. I pulled us off to the side after they had gone past and got on the radio. “Guys, we've spotted them,” I said, still trying to count the number of men as they receded off into the distance. It had to be nearly all of them; they were riding in pairs, for the most part, and there had to be thirty or so of them. Perfect.
“They're headed up into the mountains, going along the highway. We're going to chase directly on their tails at a little bit of a distance,” I told the others over the radio. “Then Scott and Adam, I want you to bring in your groups over on their left side, using the road that goes through Newell. Hank and Tom, I want you coming from the east, on the road that goes through Oldfort. We should all spit out at around the same time and surround them.”
I received affirmatives from everyone else and looked around at my group. “Well, this is it,” I told them.
Bryce snorted. “Don't tell me you're about to give a tearful speech, boss,” he told me, rolling his eyes a little.
I laughed and shook my head, jamming my helmet back on. “Far from it,” I told him. “Come on, let's go!”
Somehow, things worked exactly like I had planned. We rained down on the Holy Flames from every side. And somehow, as an added bonus, there was no one else around on the road. I didn't mind killing off members of the Holy Flames, not after what they had did to Frank, not after Halley had been kidnapped, even if that didn't really have anything to do with them. But I didn't really want to have a shoot-out while we were surrounded by random civilians. That would have brought a lot of pressure and arrests from the local cops, for sure.
We skidded to a stop surrounding the Holy Flames, who were forced to stop by Bryce's group, which had gone on ahead of mine and gotten in front of them. There was nowhere for them to go.
And that was when we began to rain bullets down on them.
I don't even think they really knew what was happening. One moment they were out for a ride, enjoying the sunshine and one another's company, and the next moment…
Well, it was a bloodbath. I was pretty used to gore, and even I was a bit sickened by it, but I tried not to focus on it. Instead, I focused on getting through all of them and getting to Emilio, who was, of course, near the very center of the pack.
Incredibly, he managed to break through the ranks, though, still on his bike, and he and two of his guys sped off, managing to evade the bullets that we were raining down on him. At least, a few of us were shooting at him. Most people, when I looked around, were too preoccupied with the members of the Holy Flames that were still scattered there on the highway.
I swore and jumped back on my bike, preparing to head after Emilio on my own. It was one thing to kill off all his men, but I couldn't let him go, not after all of this. Not only would he be able to build up his club again, potentially, but I just couldn't suffer the man to live any longer.
I growled and tore after him on my bike, the tires leaving squealing skid marks on the pavement. But I wasn't the only one chasing him down. When I glanced to the side, I saw the Bryce was on his bike as well, bent down into the wind and just as hellbent on catching the fucker.
I grinned a little. Wasn't that fitting. Of anyone I trusted to have my back as I went after Emilio, it was him.
We raced back into Millhaven, skidding around corners. I watched the traffic lights, terrified of the time when they made it through and we were stuck behind. But fortunately, that never happened, and they didn't manage to shake us off their tails.
Suddenly, I realized I knew where we were going anyway, and I almost laughed at it. Why, we were headed straight for the Holy Flames' clubhouse. I might have guessed that.
It was a smart plan on his part, though. Bring me back on his territory, to a place that only he knew really well. We would have a difficult time defeating him in there. Especially since it was just Bryce and me.
But we had to go after them; there was no other way, and I was afraid that in the time it would take to bring other members of the Devil's Route there, Emilio might escape and hop the next flight to the tropics. Plus, after the bloodbath on the highway, the bikers from Oregon and Nevada needed to get back across state lines, and my own bikers needed to go home and pretend that they'd had nothing to do with the situation.
This public slaughter may not have been the best idea, really. But ... well, there was no time to dwell on that now.