The hardest part about being me is getting recognized all the time. It’s damned near impossible to leave my house without being stopped by some fan, staring up at me with weirdly adoring eyes like they’d just spotted Elvis rising from the grave. I longed to go out to a pub or a movie without being asked for my autograph ten times.

Over the years, I’d figured out a system, though.

If I really needed to hide, I could do it, as long as I took some precautions.

First, I had to lose the Bugatti. I’d kept my old Chevy truck that I’d bought for a thousand bucks way before my first fight. That old truck had gotten me around like a champ before I’d made any money. I’d not driven her in a while, but this morning, she started right up, that loud purr vibrating straight to my bones.

I sat in her now, on my way out of town, with the rest of my camouflage gear doing a fantastic job of concealing my identity. A long sleeve t-shirt hid my distinctive tattoos, the huge Irish flag on my bicep, the biggest giveaway, completely out of sight. An old Oregon Ducks hat hid my bright red hair. A pair of dark sunglasses completed my disguise.

To any casual observer, I was just a regular old Oregon dude, heading out towards the coast on a Saturday morning in a beat-up Chevy. Sure, if I threw off my hat and flashed my familiar smile, threw a smart-ass greeting your way, you’d know exactly who I was. As long as I kept that locked down, I was just another guy.

Today, that’s exactly who I needed to be.

Inside, though, I was pulsing with excited anticipation, a man on a mission.

Rosen had called me this morning as soon as the sun was up, unloading a treasure trove of information on me. Turned out, the fancy West Hills doctor had himself a little side hobby. Those bikers that met the unfortunate force of my fists were a part of a quiet little gang of wanna-be warriors, tucked away in a charming little forest compound near Tillamook. And the doctor was one of them.

Which mean Scarlet had exposed my son, my flesh and blood, to a bunch of derelict, dangerous, outlaw bikers. I’d been angry at her already, but my anger had quickly turned to a boiling rage. But instead of taking it out on Lily, who walked into the kitchen while I was on the phone with Rosen and stared at me with the ever-present fucking apricot in her hand, trying to ask me who I was talking to — I stayed calm.

My rage was focused.

I’d felt this way before, it was familiar. In the ring, my opponent was the only thing in front of me, the only thing that existed.

There was no room for distraction. There was only me and him.

This time, my opponent was female.

Scarlet had no idea what was coming for her. The rage inside me was an unstoppable force and nothing was going to get in the way of me claiming my son today.

Not her.

And certainly not some pussy bikers…

Rosen had given me the address of the compound, way off Highway 6 almost to the coast. According to the GPS on my phone, I was just a few miles away when the traffic came to a stand still. The cars in front of me began turning around and I spotted the road closure up ahead. Once the cars cleared in front of me, I drove up to the fireman standing at the closure.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“Road’s closed due to a fire. We’re asking everyone to turn around and take the 26 up to Seaside to get to the coast.”

“How long is it closed?”

“Not sure, gonna be quite a while. We’re evacuating homes in the area while we get a handle on the blaze.”

I nodded slowly, and then took my hat off, running my fingers through my hair.

“So, mate, I’m trying to make it to my lad’s place, just a little ways from Tillamook. You’re saying I gotta go around the back way?”

“You can get to the coast, but you aren’t gonna get far. Road’s blocked on the way out, too, because of another fire. Some people got trapped between the two. I wouldn’t be surprised if your buddy was one of them.”

“Maybe you saw them? Bunch of biker’s. The Gods of Chaos.”

“Oh, those guys? Yeah, I saw my Chief talking to them. They were right in the fire line. We evacuated them to the Roadhouse Motel up the way.”

“No, shit? Man, I’ve been trying to reach them, but my phone died.”

“You look familiar,” he said, his eyes squinting at me.

“Yeah,” I shrugged.

“You’re that MMA dude, right? Sullivan?”

“That’s me, mate,” I said, flashing him a smile.

“I saw your fight a few weeks ago. Quite a win,” he said.

“Oh, thanks, mate,” I said. “I trained hard for that one.”

“Impressive,” he said. “So you were headed to visit your friend?”

“Yeah, mate,” I said, leaning out the window and lowering my voice. “Think you could let me through? I’ll just go find my friends at the motel, if it’s safe?”

He paused, slowly nodding.

“Sure, man, why not? Since it’s you. But be careful. Trees are falling across the road left and right.”

“Ah, you’re the best! Thank you!” I said, reaching out and shaking his hand. I reached back into the truck, pulling out an old eight by ten glossy of myself that I had in a box full of other promo stuff — t-shirts, hats, and a bunch of other nonsense with my ugly mug on it.

“What’s your name, man?” I asked.

“Ben.”

“Ben, here let me give you this,” I said, signing it and handing it to him. “You can sell that shit on eBay for a hundred bucks.” I winked. He smiled and thanked me, then signaled to the guy standing next to the road barrier.

“Hey, Johnson, let this guy in,” he said. The guy nodded, picked up the barrier and moved it, waiting for me to drive through and then putting it back.

“Thanks a lot, Ben!” I yelled, waving to him.

“Anytime, man!” He waved back, a huge smile spreading across his face.

I put my hat back on, pulling it low over my eyes as I drove down the road, just a little bit closer to achieving my mission. A few miles later, I spotted my destination.

The Roadhouse Motel was bustling with activity, even at this early hour. I pulled my truck in slowly, finding a parking spot at the very back of the lot. Quickly, I realized the motel and attached pub were the base for the firefighters in this area. Men in bright yellow vests flowed in and out of the restaurant, getting into firetrucks and leaving, heading into danger like it was any other job. They walked out in groups, smiles on their faces and shouts of camaraderie filling the air. You had to admire them. They were brave. Like soldiers, they faced down death all day long, without complaining or giving up.

That was me today, I thought.

A soldier.

Fighting for a noble cause, refusing to give up…

The Harleys littering the parking lot told me I was in the right place.

My gaze raked over the motel doors that faced the parking lot, a block of two floors of separate rooms, one of which most likely held my son.

I had two options.

I could storm them all, until I found what I was looking for.

Or, I could be patient.

Wait.

Watch.

Like a snake lying in wait to strike, I knew that a meticulously planned attack was a hundred times more powerful than one which was wildly and haphazardly thrown.

I turned the truck off, pulling my hat down a little more over my eyes. My position provided me the perfect view of the motel, the parking lot and the door of the restaurant. As soon as someone stirred, I’d know it.

Then, I’d know just where to strike.

It just wouldn’t be right to accidentally hurt one of these brave firefighters by lashing out without knowing where Scarlet was. If it wasn’t for them, our beautiful forests would burn to the ground. With the climate changing, rapidly worsening the fire season around here, we needed men like them more than ever. The last thing I wanted to do was get in their way, or accidentally hurt an innocent person.

Hell, I still felt terrible about the damned dog.

I looked out over the parking lot, amazed that I’d found them so easily. And here they were, laid out in front of me like a bunch of unprotected flies in a cage full of frogs.

A slow, satisfied smile spread across my face.

“This’ll be as easy as taking candy from a baby,” I muttered out loud.