True to his word, Hunter led the charge… and he looked damn good doing it. The wind whipped at his leathers as the engine roared beneath us, rocking us towards our destiny.

With my arms tightly wrapped around his strong, rugged chest, I glanced over my shoulder and briefly studied our escort squad under the moonlight. Our improvised biker fleet, totaling members from five motorcycle clubs, was right behind us and kicking up an impressive storm of dust.

The dark cacophony of the rolling engines formed a symphony of bitter vengeance. With Hunter as their conductor, each biker in our merry band had their prospective instrument nearby: a pistol, a shotgun, a rifle, a knife…

I was still stunned that he had successfully mobilized such a force. Minus a traitor, about seventy motorcycles flanked us beneath the stars as we rocketed forward, all of us aligned to the same goals:

Find the girls.

Overthrow the cartel.

Instead of heading towards the farmhouse, we were flying the opposite direction. The collective beam of headlights rolled around us, several bikers unable to resist a couple of burn outs or firing a few weapons into the sky.

Hunter had warned them upfront:

Get your fun out of the way now.

Once we reach the fence, we’re all business.

He’d known that they needed to get a little adrenaline out of their systems first, ramping themselves into the mindset of attacking a nearby sex-trafficking cartel.

After all, he was a good leader.

He knew what his men needed.

Hunter signaled back to the closest bikers, and they began to slow down. The decreased momentum trickled backwards through the biker armada. We were soon flying forwards from them, breaking away as a single motorcycle.

His voice shouted over the roar of the engine. “Hold on, Princess. It’s about to get bumpy…”

When he felt my grip tighten, Hunter leant into the handlebar, pushing us off the main road and onto the dirt trails. The bikers followed suit, matching our change in direction and roaring to keep up.

We left the ground a few times over the bumps in the trail, cutting across the empty desert under the full moon. I could hear the hooting and hollering of some of the others as they did the same, sometimes hitting the acceleration to catch more airtime.

After twenty minutes of this, we cut off from the trail and started driving across open desert. Hunter navigated us across a strip of steady flatlands, avoiding the prickly flora as we rode out into what looked like pure nothingness.

Five minutes later, a small dot appeared on the horizon. It grew in size until I realized that it was a house – much smaller than the one that played host to our gunfight the night before.

It also looked ramshackle and abandoned, barely jutting out into the sky. I imagined that even on a clear day, it would be incredibly easy to miss if you were sticking to the roads and trails.

Hunter double-tapped his brakes, signaling to the others to begin slowing down. We pulled up in a cloud of scattered dust beside the house, and he killed his ignition and hopped off. I could see the border fence nearby as I shielded my face from the coming dust.

As he signaled out with a closed fist to our closest followers, I dismounted as well. I followed him to the torn-apart siding on the other side of the abandoned shack, where he turned on a flashlight.

The shack was ripped to shreds on the inside. Something had happened here, decimating the place. I was surprised that it was even still standing, no matter how isolated we were from the rest of the world.

“What are we doing here? Do we need something?” I asked him cautiously, following the beam of light as he scrutinized the interior.

His light beam shot downwards to the floor.

“We’re here for that,” he informed me.

That was a massive hole in the living room floor. It was a tunnel, digging downwards at a slope beneath the house.

“So when you said we were going under the border,” I murmured aloud.

“When I first enlisted with the Devil’s Dragons they were still running drugs. It was a huge operation, kept totally under wraps and beneath the noses of the law. Eduardo commissioned some people to excavate this little smuggling tunnel… It runs right under that fence, and straight out the other side.”

“Jesus,” I muttered. “This is how you guys flew down to attack the cartel before?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Since guiding the club away from drug-running, I’ve kept this avenue open just in case I ever needed it. Looks like that decision finally paid off…”

“I’ll say,” I nodded.

We walked back outside and climbed back atop his motorcycle. The bikers were sitting in silence around us, shelving their antics for the rest of our trip.

“Tunnel’s secure!” Hunter shouted. “Everyone, follow me!”

Every engine near us revved in anticipation as his motorcycle flared to life. I covered my ears briefly to keep my hearing intact, and heard a little chuckle from my chauffeur.

Always the charmer, Hunter flashed me a quick grin, and then we were off. We drove straight into the shack and roared down into the tunnel, followed by our fleet of armed bikers.

I clung to him as we shot forward in the dark, our way illuminated only by headlights. The sounds of the other engines rumbled down the tunnel around us, threatening to deafen us.

Hunter didn’t seem even remotely bothered by the ear-piercing sound. I found myself wondering how he managed to hold quiet conversations, given how unwavering he was when it came to deafening engine roars.

It was exhilarating.

It was frightening.

But I felt secure here, my hips straddling Hunter’s engine while we were backed up by a large flock of his Outlaws. His own men were mingled into the crowd, and every one of these bikers had undoubtedly killed men and performed all manners of illegal, illicit activities.

Oh god, if Daddy could see me now he’d lose his fucking shit. A knowing smile crossed my lips. Would that be before or after the inevitable heart attack?

After a few minutes of heart-pounding excitement rolling through the wide tunnel, I could finally see the exit.

Hunter double-tapped his brakes again, signaling to the crowd to begin slowing down.

The ground started to slope back up again. When we came up on the other side, it looked like our exit point was disguised as a large and completely empty water tank.

Everyone came to a slow stop as Hunter turned his bike and killed his engine. Although we could only see maybe half of the fleet, the acoustics off the rusted, metal interior of the massive tank meant his voice could travel.

Hunter made good use of that quality. He dismounted his bike, stepping in front to call out to the entire band of men.

“Outlaws and Dragons… this is the last time I address you all. Once we cross outside, we pass straight into enemy territory, and I’ll have to trust all of you to understand how to handle yourselves on cartel turf.

“Tonight, you represent your clubs for the reigning leader of the Outlaws. Show me the best of the Severed Sixteen, or the Winged Scorpions, or the Moonlight Riders, or the Twin Spears. Show me, brothers, what it means to you to be a fucking Outlaw!”

The assembled fleet all cheered out, fists and guns in the air. Hunter waited for the sounds to subside before continuing.

“All of you are under my jurisdiction tonight, and my responsibility… and I intend on sending each and every last one of you back to your club presidents with my undying gratitude. There is no dishonor in retreating. I will not speak ill of your clubs, nor will I disbar them from the Outlaws. You have answered my call of your own volition. If you mean to continue riding with me, glory and vengeance await. But if you mean to turn back, this is the fucking time to do it.”

“Never!” A biker shouted out, fist pumped into the air. The others met his conviction, shouting at the top of their lungs.

“We are brothers, all of us,” he addressed the clubs, “and tonight… tonight, we fight together. Follow my lead. When we arrive at the safe-house, our mission is to rescue every kidnapped girl we find, and put a bullet in the head of every sack of shit cartel member we find. Once we’ve cleared the place, you can fill your saddle bags with as much goddamned cash as you can carry, but make it fast. We want to be in and out before any of their friends arrive. To all who will join me… let’s show these fuckers how we do shit in Texas. BOYS, LET’S GET SOME!”

The bikers roared into a chorus of cheers, jeers, and vicious taunts as Hunter walked up to me, utilizing the quick distraction.

“We’ll be fine,” he told me, apparently sensing my apprehension. “And I might have a little surprise for you…”

“A surprise?” I shouted, the roar of engines deafening within the confines of the water tank.

“I think we might just find your cheerleaders tonight…”

“What?” His words practically blindsided me. I immediately demanded: “How?”

“According to the Desert Owl and the little rat bastard he’s keeping company, the cartel’s been having trouble selling those girls.”

“You’re fucking kidding.”

“Not at all,” he replied calmly. “I guess the national media attention made it hard to pass off their pretty little faces… Nobody wants that kind of potential heat.”

“…Then they might just be here, tonight,” I realized with a mixture of hope and disbelief. “That’s one hell of a lucky fucking break, Hunter.”

“Not as lucky as you’d think. My old friends have been getting brash. I’m banking on the hope that they’ve gotten sloppy, too…”

Could it be true? Would we find the missing cheerleaders tonight? I thought about those implications for a moment as he continued. Maybe my career didn’t have to end. If I showed back up to the lieutenant with those cheerleaders in tow they’d give me the goddamned key to the city!

But… After all I’d done out here… Did I want to go back?

This wasn’t the time to be thinking about that… It was time to ride. Hunter stepped over his bike and helped lift me onto the seat behind him. In a deafening roar, we rolled out into the desert. It was about twenty minutes later that we finally met a trail. Hunter swung us south, guiding us along the dirt road until we finally came up on a dilapidated complex in the distance. We stopped for a moment, the anticipation around us buzzing like electricity.

“What the fuck is that?” I hissed over the engine. “Is that the place?”

“Welcome to Víboras Verde,” he grimly replied. “This is where they’re basing all their ongoing operations… Right in my own fucking back yard.”

“That’s no safe house I’ve ever seen, Hunter,” I told him with mounting fear. “That’s a fortified goddamn compound… do we have enough men? Can we even fight that?”

“Well, Detective… we’re about to fucking find out,” he replied. His body tensed as he hit the accelerator, roaring us forwards.