Hours after Chopper made love to Chelsea in a barn in Massachusetts, he would be sitting on an airplane with emotions raging in his chest. Chopper hated flying and had only done it twice before in his life. But just about the time Tigger showed up to pick them back up so they could drop Chelsea at home, Chopper got a call from Dax. He replayed it in his mind now.

“Your chopper was spotted in Iowa.”

“Spotted?”

“Yeah, one of the overnight rallies on the way to Sturgis was held there at a campground near Dixon. Zack and Garrett are leaving Chicago and on their way there now. They’ll be there in a few hours. The Vipers are detaining this guy until they get there.”

“I want him, Dax.”

“I know. He will still be breathing when you get there, but get on a plane because we don’t have twenty-four hours to wait. Cody, Handsome, and I are boarding ours now; the prospects will get the bikes out to North Dakota by the weekend.”

“Okay, thanks, Dax.”

Chopper had sat in the airport pacing and cussing mostly, for four hours before he could get a flight out. Now he sat on a plane between a soccer mom who kept turning back to tell her rambunctious twelve-year-old twins to be quiet, and a fat businessman who was currently snoring and practically resting his head on Chopper’s shoulder. They had squeezed him in on a last-minute cancellation. He’d called Garrett just before he boarded, and Garrett told him that he and Zack had just gotten to Dixon and were almost to the campsite. They had run into some traffic along the way. Chopper knew how the parties were along the way to Sturgis. He just hoped there was someone sober enough in the Vipers crew to keep a good eye on the guy.

He was so pissed off that he was almost afraid of what he was going to do to the guy when he got there. He imagined himself looking like Dax always did in situations like this, cool, calm, and collected. In his mind he had his gun in his hand and he was looking down at the man who tried to hurt Chelsea and stole the most important thing in his life…before he’d met her. He felt the rage again, but realized that his mind kept going back to the guy trying to run Chelsea down. If he had just stolen the chopper, he’d be in for the ass-whooping of his life. But Chopper thought that if he looked into this guy’s face and remembered how scared Chelsea had been, and how close she’d come to being permanently injured or worse, he just might be able to pull the trigger.

Of course he didn’t even have a gun on him. There was no way he could board a plane with it, but he knew someone else would have one, and he knew Dax. Dax would leave the decision of how to handle this up to him. The closer the plane got to Chicago, the more he hoped he’d be able to make the right choice. He wanted to make a choice that he could live with, but more importantly, one that would make Dax and his brothers, and most importantly of all Chelsea, proud of him.

Trying to ignore the constant chaos between the mother and her kids, and the drooling fat man next to him, he laid his head back into the seat and closed his eyes. He hadn’t expected to be able to sleep, but the next thing he knew, he was being nudged awake by the soccer mom and the “Fasten Seatbelt” sign was on. He buckled up and woke the businessman so he could do the same.

The prospects traveling with Zack and Garrett were at the airport to meet him. They drove for over three hours in a rented SUV until they came to a campground/picnic area that was littered with bikes, tents, bikers, and scantily clad women. The sun was just coming up, but the party from the night before was still going on. Loud music was booming from somewhere and it looked like the alcohol was flowing freely. No one looked to be in any hurry to get moving. They all just looked like they were having a great time, except for Garrett, who met them at the car. Garrett’s mood was never easy to gauge. He always looked flat, and a little scary. Hell, if you didn’t know him, he looked a lot scary. He was like a non-green Incredible Hulk. The dude was huge…built like a Mack truck. His leather vest would have fit like a dress on any other normal-sized man, and when he held out his hand for Chopper to shake it, Chopper’s man-sized hand was completely swallowed up.

“Hey, Chop, I don’t have good news.” Another thing about Garrett was that he was always straight to the point. Chopper saw Zack walking toward them now. Zack was a whole different entity. He was always smiling. Usually his smile had an edge to it, sarcastic or otherwise, but Chopper had even seen him take a guy out, with a smile on his face. Zack was funny. All the women loved him, and they all hated how devoted he was to his old lady, but the thing people remembered most about Zack once they got to know him was his “Don’t fuck with my family or my club” attitude. Otherwise, the last thing you might see was a smiling executioner.

“It’s fucked up, man,” Zack said as soon as he walked up.

“I didn’t tell him yet,” Garrett said.

“Oh fuck, sorry, man.”

Chopper sighed. He loved these guys, but he was ready to shoot them both. “Will one of you please just tell me what’s up? Did this guy get away or what?”

“Yeah,” Garrett said, sending a poisonous surge of anger through Chopper’s body.

“The Vipers thought it best just to watch him and not let him know anyone was coming for him. They put one of their girls on him. She was supposed to party with him in her tent until we got here. But when we got here the party was rocking, the girl was passed out, and he was gone.

“Fuck! Do they know where he went?”

Zack and Garrett looked at each other and Zack lost his smile as he said, “They sent guys out after him…and they found your chopper. He was already gone.”

For a second, Chopper forgot how badly he wanted this guy. The words “They found your chopper” reverberated in his head. He actually smiled. “Well, that’s not horrible news, right?” Somehow, he knew there was something they were holding back, but he was trying to suppress that thought and concentrate on the good news.

“It was on fire.” Garrett stated, flatly. Chopper stared up at his face. He wished that Garrett were a liar…a terrible person who liked to make bad jokes. But he’d never known Garrett to do either. Suddenly, all the emotions in his body settled in his stomach, in one gigantic, acid-infused knot. His body wanted to reject it. The nausea was practically overwhelming, but no fucking way was he going to throw up in front of two of the toughest guys he’d ever known. Fuck!

“How bad?” he heard himself say.

“It’s gone, buddy,” Zack said. “I’m fucking sorry, man.”

Chopper was shaking his head. “It’s not your fault. Where’s the chopper?”

Garrett gestured with his big head and started walking away. Chopper and Zack followed him. Before they reached the far side of the campground Chopper could smell it, or at least he imagined that he could. Gas, oil, and the sickening smell of charred leather and metal. The chopper was sitting on the back of a trailer, attached to an old pickup and when he finally laid eyes on it, he went weak at the knees. It was a blackened knot of melted metal, chrome, and leather. Unsalvageable. The knot of acid in his belly moved up into his throat. He felt Zack’s hand on his shoulder and without Chopper’s even uttering a word, Zack said:

“Porta Potti to your left, man. We’ll be back at camp when you’re ready.” He felt Garrett pat his other shoulder and then he heard them retreating. He continued to stare at the mess on top of the trailer and the more he remembered all the time, money, and love he’d put into it, the sicker he felt. He bypassed the Porta Potti that Zack had been so kind to point out to him, and grabbed onto the trunk of a huge shade tree. Gripping onto the rough bark as tightly as he could, he doubled over and emptied his stomach. The process of purging the disgusting black knot that had formed there took some time. When he could finally stand up and walk again, he used the outdoor sink to clean himself up and rinse his mouth. With one last, painful look at the chopper he took out his phone, and he called Chelsea.

“Hey,” she answered in a sleepy voice.

“Oh, damn! I’m sorry. I forgot how early it was.” He wasn’t even sure how many hours he’d been up, but it was flowing into two days at least.

“Don’t be sorry,” she said, sweetly. “I’m glad you called. I’ve been thinking about you but didn’t want to bother you. Did you find your bike?”

“He burned it.”

“What?” She sounded wide awake then. “Oh my god, Chopper, I’m so sorry. Is it…I mean can you fix it?”

“No. It’s scrap metal now.”

“Oh, fuck. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. I’m sorry I called and woke you up. I just needed to…” He paused, and she said:

“Vent, and it’s okay.”

“No…I mean, yeah, I do need to vent, I guess. But what I really needed was to hear the sound of your voice. I miss you already.”

“I miss you too. I wish I could be there for you. Chopper…did you find the guy too?”

“Not yet. He took off and dumped the bike in a gully, set it on fire, and somehow took off again. Garrett and Zack think he might have someone helping him.”

“Damn it! I guess he just proved he only stole the bike for revenge, which proves this is all my fault. I’m so damned sorry.”

“Please stop saying that. I felt sick before I called you. The sound of your voice makes me feel better. I’ll find this guy and before I…I mean when I do, I’ll find out what it is he wants with you, and who he’s working with or for, okay?”

“Okay,” she said. “Is there anything I can do for you in the meantime?”

“No. I wish you were here.”

“I wish I was too,” she said.

“Do you have to work today?”

“No, not until Tuesday. You can call me anytime if you need to talk, okay?”

“Yeah…thank you, Chelsea.”

“I’m—”

“Don’t! Please don’t say you’re sorry or this is your fault again.”

“Okay, but I am sorry that you feel so bad.”

“Thanks. I want to get my hands on this guy, Chelsea, so bad.” He almost whispered the last part of the sentence. Chelsea was quiet for several minutes and then she said:

“Chopper, what do you plan on doing when you find this guy?”

He thought about her question. He still didn’t know for sure, and even if he did, he wasn’t sure he wanted to tell Chelsea. “I don’t know” was what he finally said. “I’m so pissed off, Chelsea. This piece of shit deserves a bullet in his head.”

“And then what, Chopper?”

“What do you mean, then what?”

“I know this isn’t my business…”

“It’s okay. Say what’s on your mind.”

“I’m just not sure this guy is worth it. You’re a good man, Chopper. I just hate the thought of you suffering for the rest of your life because you basically stepped on a cockroach. But like I said, it’s not my business. I’m sorry. Please just be safe.”

“I will,” he said, unable to promise her that he wasn’t going to do something that might just affect the rest of his life. He knew she was right, that this guy was scum and wouldn’t be worth doing time over. But he’d never been this angry with anyone before. He’d never actually been able to picture himself killing anyone. With this guy, he could see it clearly. “You be safe, okay? Your parents are there with you, right?”

“I’m safe,” she said. “Call me later if you need to.”

It was only after he ended the call that he realized she hadn’t said her parents were there, just that she was safe. He started to call her back when he heard Zack calling out to him. “We’ve got a bike for you if you’re ready to saddle up.”

“I’m ready,” Chopper said. He knew this guy could be anywhere by now, but the fact that he’d stolen his bike and then stopped at a place where he knew it would be recognized right before he set it on fire told Chopper that the POS was in the mood to play games. Games that Chopper planned on making sure the asshole didn’t win.