Tom was fast asleep, when Bruce entered the straight where the old warehouse was located at. Spotting it on the right side of the road, three hundred yards away, he pulled out his gun and abruptly turned his head to the right. Bruce cocked it, two inches away from Tom’s ear.

“Get out.” He commanded, as Tom opened his blurry eyes. He looked down the barrel of a gun. In a split second, he opened his eyes wide.

“I’m not going to repeat myself.” Bruce snarled. Tom then reached for the door handle, still staring at the gun in Bruce’s firm hand. He opened it and jumped out of the large vehicle. Bruce averted his gaze from the door and looked at the warehouse. He put his foot hard down on the gas. The massive, diesel engine roared. Grasping the steering wheel tightly, he turned the truck slightly right, putting it in a collision course with the warehouse. Adrenaline rushed through his veins, as the large building came dangerously close. Just before impact, Bruce saw Howard, standing behind the window.

The big, heavy vehicle crashed forcefully into the warehouse. Thousands of shards of glass were shot into the old building, along with countless splinters of wood. Howard’s body was thrown more than fifty feet across the warehouse. He landed flat and very hard on his back, moaning in agonizing pain. Bruce stepped hard on the brakes. The tires squeaked, as the truck slowed down. It was brought to a halt, just a few feet away from the small room on the corner. Bruce grabbed the rifle and jumped out of the truck, as Melissa stormed out of the room. Meanwhile, Howard’s men had caught up with him. They stopped right behind Bruce’s truck.

“Dad!” Melissa screamed, looking down at her bleeding father.

“Get back in that room!” Bruce yelled, cocking back his rifle. “It’s about to get rowdy in here.” He continued, as Howard’s men began to jump out of the trucks. Grasping the grip of his rifle, Bruce started towards Howard. Before he got closer than ten feet from him though, all hell broke loose. Multiple semi-automatic weapons, rifles and pistols started firing, almost simultaneously. The men carrying those weapons were behind the last truck, firing at Howard’s men. Bruce was stunned to discover that they were not shooting at him. One by one, his enemies were brutally gunned down. Hardly anyone of them managed to fire a shot. Even Tom was shot, in his attempt to run back to the warehouse. Bruce took a few quick steps back and leaned his back against the truck, completely clueless about their identity.

“Hold your fire!” A loud, hoarse voice was heard, as the cracking sounds of the gunshots resounded in the warehouse. Helped by the truck lights, Bruce bent his head to the left and snuck a peek. Several men were coming his way. This time though, he could tell who they were. Their black, leather jackets with the big, white pistol logo on the chest left him no doubt. They were members of “Blazing Sons”, his old, motorcycle club. Adding to his already immense surprise, Vincent Burrows himself was leading them.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are.” Vincent sounded very cheerful indeed. “Come on, Harris. I already know it was you. That’s not the way to welcome your brothers.”

Bruce took two, hesitant steps to the right, walking into the light. Each and every member of the Las Vegas and the Boston charters was there. Vincent was smiling broadly up at him, surrounded by more than twenty men.

“Well, well, well… If it ain’t Rambo!” He cheered, opening his arms. His men burst out laughing. Bruce was stunned to stillness. He opened his eyes wide in disbelief, before Vincent hugged him cordially.

“You should have told me about this.” Vincent complained, leaning back. “Matt reached out to me last night. He told me all about Sanders and his business with Howard. I was about to call you, when I got a call from the boys in Vegas. They said Joe was dead. They also mentioned Howard’s plan. We took the first flight out.”

“Boss, I just got off the phone with Wilson.” One of them interjected. “He said they escaped.”

“Thank God.” Bruce sighed in relief. “You flew all the way from Boston to help me?” He inquired, unable to hide his surprise.

“Yeah.” Vincent said with a nod. “The Sons always help out each other. You know that.”

“I left the MC a couple of years ago.” Bruce spoke in a steady tone. “We never helped former members.”

“True, but you were a member for nine years, son.” Vincent smiled. “I practically raised you. I just thought I should make an exception for you. Come say ‘hi’ to the boys. They’ve missed your sorry ass.”

Bruce did not have to go to them. One by one, his old comrades walked up to him and hugged him, looking very happy to see him again. Relieved that he was still alive and grateful to them, he returned their hugs. Within moments, he began to smile at them as well. Lost in a group hug, he did not notice Vincent, as he passed them by. He went to the right and stopped next to Howard. Looking down at him, he pulled out his gun. Bruce did not have time to react. Vincent pulled the trigger. The bullet penetrated Howard’s skull. He was killed instantly.

“Noooo!” Melissa screamed at the top of her lungs, once again storming out of the room. She sprinted across the warehouse, towards her father. Just before she reached him, she fixed her gaze on the bullet hole on his head. Melissa stopped beside him, fell to her knees and dropped her head in her hands, bursting into wailing sobs.

“We had to retaliate.” Vincent said, lazily returning to his men.

“Can I have a moment with her?” Bruce requested.

“Sure.” Vincent muttered. “Come on, boys. Let’s give those two some privacy.”

Putting his hands on his waist, Bruce watched her emotional breakdown. Seeing her like that broke his heart. Part of him wanted to go to her and comfort her, hold her in his arms one last time. However, he chose to stay where was. As much as she had hurt him though, he owed her an explanation.

“I wasn’t going to kill him.” Bruce sighed. “I’d put a gun to his head and ask him to release them. His goons would put down their guns and I’d be free. I didn’t know they were coming.”

“Why?” She sniffled, abruptly looking up at him over her right shoulder.

“Because he wouldn’t have kept his promise. He’d kill me.” He replied, his voice steady and calm. Bruce slowly turned around, looking down at his feet.

“Is that it?” She wondered, hastily getting up. “Is that all you got to say?” Her trembling voice forced him to stop.

“I told you the truth.” He claimed, unwilling to face her again.

“Is this another ‘goodbye’?” Melissa’s last question brought tears to his eyes. Bruce bit his lower lip, trying hard to fight them back. It was hopeless; a thick tear rolled down his right cheek, as he realized that he could never see his beloved Melissa again. Desperate to catch a glimpse of the woman who had captured his heart, he turned around once more and faced her.

“I never…” His voice broke; unable to resist the urge to hold her again in his arms, he began to walk up to her. “I never meant to say ‘goodbye’. I shouldn’t have left Vegas.”

“It was all true, baby.” She whispered, putting her hands on his face, as more tears spilled from her eyes. “Please don’t ask me to stop calling you that. You’ll always be my baby…” Melissa ran her thumbs across his cheekbones. He closed his eyes, savoring her light touch. Bruce wrapped his arms around her back and pulled her close. He kissed her on her forehead, filling his nostrils with her feminine scent, feeling her shaking body in his embrace.

“Goodbye, Melissa.” He whispered. Bruce dropped his arms and kept his eyes closed, trying to avoid witnessing her reaction. But, he could not close his ears. Her loud sobs tore him apart, as he made his way out of the warehouse. Determined not to relive another painful moment, he did not look back. Whatever he and Melissa had was over. Now, he had to find a way to live without her…