Page 60 of Single Mom for the Bikers

“Don’t we fucking all, Mia? Welcome to the real world. We don’t always get what we want.”

33

PHOENIX

A message camein during the attack. Hellfire requested a meeting.

With the compound still smoking, I don’t fucking trust them, but whatever he said was enough to convince Eagle-eye and King that it was worth hearing him out. Every minute that goes by is a minute that Mia is in Grinder’s bloody fucking hands and the only reason we aren’t out looking for them is because we can’t rescue her if we’re dead.

Our group rides down the highway like a military parade. Two and two, grim-faced, still covered in dust, soot and blood. It feels better this way, more real. The club has to respond to the attack, but for me, right now, the most important thing is Mia. Once we have her outta there, blood is going to fucking flow. Grinder and the last of the Pit Vipers are like rats from a sinking ship, spreading plague everywhere they end up.

Eagle-eye signals when we come up on the rest stop he picked as a meeting spot. It’s nearly empty. Most of the stores that used to be here shut down with little more than the gas pumps left.A group of bikes are already waiting in the truck resting zone. We’re all on high alert, but there isn’t much to hide behind.

That doesn't mean it can't be a trap.

Hellfire raises one hand with a flat palm, indicating that he's not out for trouble. Everyone’s keeping their hands nice and visible as we pull up, but the tension is high on both sides. A lot could be solved right now if we just cut the head off this snake, but it’s not my call. If he’d been the one to take Mia, though… I might be willing to pay the price for stepping out of line.

Our clubs face off on either side of a white painted line. Nobody with any sense of self-preservation will come anywhere near here. Good. The last thing any of us want is a bunch of civilians deciding they wanna come rubber-neck.

Eagle-eye nods to Hellfire. “My condolences. Didn’t like the asshole but I respected him.”

What the fuck?

Hellfire nods back, neck stiff. “Thank you for coming out here to listen. I’m not sure I would do the same in your place.”

“Maybe not today, but talk to me again in a few years when you’ve had the weight of all their lives on your shoulders.”

“If I live that long,” Hellfire mutters. First sensible thing I’ve heard since we got here.

King crosses his arms, pissed as hell. “You want to make your case? We’re listening.”

Hellfire stands a little taller, looking out over the rest of us. “Shooter took some shots at us on the way back from your club the other day. Got General in the skull at full speed. Nearly tookmy head off, and nicked Badger’s ride. Nothing personal, but the Screaming Eagles were our primary suspects. As you can imagine, that’s not the sort of thing we can let slide.”

“So your answer was to bomb our fucking bar and then storm the gates and kidnap a four year old? Why are we fucking listening to them?” Sledge blurts out.

“Kidnap?” Hellfire looks genuinely surprised. “I don’t know shit about that. I sent a message to Eagle-eye because we have an internal problem that’s turning into a threat to the whole fucking club. I’m not giving you all our business, but I’ve been VP for years. When General died, Badger, one of the newer officers, suddenly has a big fucking issue with how things are going.”

“Of course he did,” I say with a snort. “He was always a sneaky son of bitch.”

Hellfire tips his head, acknowledging my point. “The problem is that he’s been selectively bringing people in. We saw it happening, but clubs die without new blood. They took direction and didn’t cause trouble. General, he… he was old guard. He remembered a time when the Pit Vipers weren’t what they were towards the end and he didn’t see a problem with absorbing some of the survivors when you brought them down.”

“And now you’ve got a fucking coup on your hands, don’t you?” Eagle-eye says, looking grim.

Hellfire looks like he’d rather chew rocks, but he nods. “I'm here to save what’s worth saving. About a third of the club is behind me, and there’s probably another third that just doesn’t know what the fuck is going on and wouldn’t be following Badger if they didn’t still think you were behind taking out General. I’llhelp you get in and strike back if you leave it to me to clean up the club afterwards.”

Havoc shakes his head slowly, doubtfully. “Why the fuck should we trust a word out of your mouth?”

One of the guys next to Hellfire, a guy that's more athlete than brute force, but still looks like he could fuck you up, sneers and takes a step forwards. Hellfire blocks him with an arm out. “Ghost. Hang back.” The guy does, but he doesn't look happy about it. “Because I think Badger orchestrated the hit on General.”

I blink at that. “He murdered his own damn president? That's some fucked up shit, if it's true.”

“You know our deal. To do what we do, a lot of us have military experience. Special forces, snipers, SEALs, Marines, all that shit. After the hit, I sent a couple men I trusted to look around. On top of one of the hills, the shooter did a shit job of cleaning up after himself. Left a couple of casings that happen to match some of our less vanilla stock. I’ve looked into it myself and our numbers aren’t adding up with what I remember ordering. It could be a coincidence, but…”

The hard expressions of the guys around him speak volumes. No one likes admitting that they're own club's in trouble, and especially when it's what amounts to a fucking civil war.

“That's fucked up,” I say.

Hellfire nods. “You can say that again. I didn't wanna fucking do this, but I don't see any other way outta this mess. I think Badger wants revenge for what you did to the Vipers, and he’s using us to do it. Whatever your answer is, I’m not going to stand around and let him do it. I’d rather go down fighting for the Sons than letthat snake turn our name to shit. But if we aren’t fighting the war on two fronts, that would make our chances a hell of a lot better.”

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