Page 6 of Tormented By Regret

“In what way?”

“Stubborn, hardheaded, likes to have her way and won't let nobody stop her, especially not a biker.”

“She’s a spoiled biker princess who doesn’t know her head from her feet. I’m bringing her home no matter what.”

Tick Tock chuckled. “I think you’re just the man for the job, brother.” He patted me on the shoulder.

“Hey, Tick Tock, you think I can borrow Bandit for a while.”

He paused a moment to think about it then nodded. “Sure thing. I’ll let the Prez know. Just don’t take too long with him. Two days tops, we’ve got drops.”

“No problem. I'm planning to have her back as soon as I’m done with my run.”

“You need backup?”

“Nah, I’ve dealt with Diego Martinez before. He’s a weasel. He most likely has the money but is too damn lazy to do the drop.”

“If you need anything, you let me know.”

“Will do, Brother.”

“See you back at the clubhouse?” He pointed at me as he walked out of the locker room, leaving me to think of this new package I was picking up.

Seemed like everyone knew something about this girl except for me, and somehow, I didn’t like that thought. Either way, no girl could stop a Royal Bastard, especially not a little brat like her.

POWERTRAIN

Bandit, our pilot, was a cross between the Big Lebowski and Ray Liotta in the Heartbreakers. The guy was a big burly sort, opened his mouth and God, help us all. He thought of himself as dangerous, but he was more a danger to himself. He liked three things, and in this order: whiskey, Hawaiian shirts, and flying. I assumed he liked women, but he never spoke much about them, but he was a man after all. And I was stuck with him for the weekend.

The first job was easy. Diego Martinez just needed a little wake up call. As soon as he saw me, he went down to his knees and started begging for a little more time. The guy had absolutely no idea what I could do to him, I kind of felt bad for him. After a few hits to the jaw, I helped him into a chair and asked him what had happened. Apparently, someone got wind of the drop and stole his money. He had no clue who it could, yet he was sure it had to be the Bloody Scorpions because they’d been watching the business. I told him not to worry, that I’d put some men on it and put more surveillance up. I needed to find out who had our money.

After leaving Diego, with the promise that we weren’t going to kill him…yet we flew to Washington. But the second job was not as easy as I hoped. We landed in a small strip of land near the property in the outskirts of Tacoma, Washington. Apparently, Spectre aimed to live in a secluded area, which was perfect since we wanted to remain under the radar.

As I approached the house, I noticed the lights were out and the property was desolate. Not a soul in the area. I tried to peek into the windows, but it was too dark to see anything, so I tried knocking. After a few minutes I decided I’d try the lock, attempting to break into the home, which I had to admit was a stupid thing to do. Suddenly the front porch light came on and a soft voice was heard from the other side of the doorframe.

“Who is it? What do you want?”

“I was just looking for someone.”

“This is private property. You shouldn’t be here.”

“Yes, alright. But I’m looking for the Hudson family, do you know them?”

The locks to the door suddenly rattled. First a chain link, then two dead bolts until the door creaked open. I took a step back as a young woman stepped up to the second screen door. Macabre had me thinking his younger sister was some teenage rebellious little girl. Instead, I was confronted by a ravishing, raven haired, tattooed vixen. She stood in the doorway eyeing me warily.

“And you are?”

“What?” I blinked twice, getting somewhat tongue-tied.

“You’re name, dude? I assume you’re a Bastard,” she pointed at my patch.

“Oh…yeah, I was actually looking for Whisper Hudson.”

“Once again, you’re on my porch, so I suggest you start talking.” She pulled out a rifle from behind the door, cocked it and walked through the screen door slowly, the rifle pointed at my chest.

“Whoa!” I raised my hands and took a step back.

“Who. The fuck. Are you?” She asked once more; the butt of the gun was tucked against her shoulder as she readied her stance.

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