Chapter Thirty-Six
After Dan’s arrest, Goldie breathed a little easier knowing a killer had been put out of commission. If he hadn’t had any interruption from the staff that night, he would’ve saved the taxpayers a helluva lot of money. But the badges got him, and now the criminal process would go on for months, maybe years.
“They’re saying that fucker who tried to kill your grandma is the serial rapist. They should give you a fuckin’ medal,” Paco said.
“I shoulda killed the bastard. I was ready to, but the citizens interfered,” Goldie replied.
A blast of heat surged in, and Goldie turned around just as Diablo entered the club. He gave Goldie and Paco a chin lift.
“Any news on my bike? I don’t want those fuckers to dismantle it for parts. And Easyriders is coming to the rally next week.”
“I got an address for their mechanic shop. Dog says Rusty hangs there most days.”
“Does Dog know anything about my bike?”
“He says no, but we know that’s a crock of shit. I’m positive it wasn’t his idea, but he’s not gonna sell out a brother, even a shitty one.”
“Let’s get the bike. Then we can decide how to handle Dog and his fuckin’ club.”
“You need some help?” Paco asked.
“If you’ve got nothing else to do,” Goldie replied.
“Hell no. Stealing a Harley’s a capital fuckin’ offense. When do we roll?” Paco motioned to Ruger to bring him a shot.
“As soon as we assemble a posse.” Diablo grinned.
Army, Diablo, Paco, Muerto, Brutus, Eagle, and Goldie took off on the old highway to find the stolen Harley. After forty minutes, at Diablo’s direction, the group of riders turned down a small road that led to a makeshift shop surrounded by a broken-down wooden fence. Tires, auto and bike parts lined the dirt lot. Switching off their engines, the bikers entered the shop, guns drawn, startling Rusty and four other Jagged Aces members. Rusty jumped up from the chair.
“What the fuck is this?” he said as he stared at Goldie.
“Don’t fuck with me. Where’s my bike?” Goldie went up to him and shoved him back into the chair.
“I don’t know.” He looked at his fellow members. “Do any of you guys know where his bike is?” They shook their heads. “Guess you should be better at keeping track of your shit.” The four men sniggered.
“Guess you’ll be finding out what happens to pussies who steal a Night Rebels’ Harley,” Goldie gritted.
“We’re not gonna waste time on this shit. Tell us where the fuck the bike is and no one dies. It’s pretty simple,” Paco said.
The Jagged Aces were mute.
While his brothers talked shit to the losers, Goldie spotted a drill on the worktable. Before anyone could react, he grabbed it and switched it on, then lifted Rusty’s leg. “Hold this fucker down!” Goldie yelled while he pulled off the asshole’s boot and sock. Army and Diablo stood behind the wide-eyed Rusty, pressing down hard on his shoulders.
Then Goldie drilled right through the thief’s instep and back out. Rusty was screaming and wailing as skin, blood, and bone flew around them. In the end, Goldie’s tactic served a purpose: Rusty’s memory came back, and he gave up the location of the bike.
“It better be in one piece, fucker, or I’m gonna come back and give you some extra holes.” The Night Rebels laughed while they wiped the bloody spatters off their faces and arms. As they were leaving, Goldie spotted several American eagle hood ornaments on a shelf.
“You sell these?” he asked as he took one down. One of the Jagged Aces nodded. “You got the sales receipts?”
“Dog takes care of that,” he said.
Turning to his brothers, he pointed to the door. “Let’s go get my bike.”
When they arrived at the chop shop, Goldie spotted his bike in the corner of the yard. Several pit bulls and German shepherds snarled and barked as he and his brothers approached. A large, burly man covered in tattoos came out. On the side of his mouth, between his lips, he chewed on a toothpick. As he eyed the bikers, he spit it out.
“What can I do for you?” he asked.
“Call off the fuckin’ dogs or we’ll shoot them,” Army said.
The man nodded and closed a gate that contained the dogs. “Now, what can I do for you?” He stepped back as they came up to him. “I don’t have any problems with you.”
Goldie leaned in so close he could smell the fear on the man. Pointing to his Harley, he said, “The fuck you don’t. That’s my bike, and it looks like it’s ready to be dismantled.”
The man’s eyes widened and he blew out a fetid breath from his opened mouth. “I had no idea the bike belonged to a Night Rebel. Fuck, man, I’m not stupid. I never would’ve touched it if I’d known.”
“Who sold it to you?” Paco asked.
“A couple of Jagged Aces. I do business with them all the time. I never had no problems. I don’t want no trouble. Take your bike. I’ll deal with them later.”
Goldie punched the man’s soft belly, and he gasped for breath. “Please, man. I didn’t know. I swear on my grandmother’s grave. I wouldn’t do that shit to you guys.”
The brothers watched as the owner of the dilapidated chop shop begged to be spared. Goldie could tell his brothers believed what he was saying; they knew this guy’s reputation, and he’d never messed with them. With one last blow to the guy’s jaw, Goldie retrieved his Harley and they took off down the old highway. The desert sky was ablaze in deep shades of orange and magenta, and the warm air hugged Goldie as he embraced the rush of wind around him. It was so good to be back on his bike. He’d felt like a part of him had been amputated for the past week. Now everything was back on track—Hailey had returned, and so had his Harley. It can’t get any better than that.
When they came back to the clubhouse, Goldie went over to Steel.
“From the way you look, I’m gonna guess you got your bike back in one piece,” Steel said.
“Dusty as hell but intact. Good thing for that fuckin’ Rusty too.”
“He was planning to go back and make a watering can outta the asshole if even one part was dismantled.” Paco laughed. Sitting down, he picked up his shot of tequila and winked at Angel, who ran over and sat on his lap.
Several of the other club girls went up to the returning brothers and wrapped their arms around them, rubbing their tits against them. Before too long, a few of the women were on their knees, taking and sucking dick.
Goldie and Steel turned to the bar. “The Jagged Aces sell the eagle ornament. I saw them in the shop.”
“Why’re you telling me this?” Steel asked.
“Because I wanna make sure that fucker who almost killed my grandma never gets off. If I can give the info to the damn badges, it’ll be harder for this asshole to plead insanity.”
“Okay. I’ll ask Dog if he can run the names of people who bought them. He definitely owes you since one of his asshole brothers stole your bike.”
“Tell him if he does this, he won’t have to always be looking behind his back. He knew that asshole had taken my Harley.”
“Of course he did. I’ll tell him. I’m gonna bet Rusty and the others will be thrown out of the club.”
“Let me know when Dog gives us the info.”
Before going upstairs to take a quick shower, Goldie called over one of the prospects.
“Go wash and shine my bike. I’ll be leaving in a half hour.” The prospect rushed out and Goldie trudged up the stairs to his room.
A little while later, Goldie walked to his bike, which gleamed under the last light of day. The first buzz of mosquitoes came as the last slivers of day gave way to the velvety dark of night. Goldie straddled his bike and sped toward Hailey’s house. Even though she’d been home for a little over a week, she’d been so busy at the flower shop with all the weddings and he’d been so swamped at the ink shop that they’d only had time for sex. Not that he was complaining, but he missed spending time with her.
When she opened the door in a sexy bra, thong, and garter belt, he decided to forgo his plans. There’s always tomorrow.
He yanked her to him and squeezed her perfect ass as he kicked the front door shut.