Page 28 of His Road Dog

Chapter 10

Priest

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PRIEST SWUNG OUT. HISfist landed on the jaw of a lowlife, double-crossing Cusclan Motorcycle Club member. The man recovered and rushed him.

Taking his pistol out of his pocket, Priest backhanded him with the butt of the gun.

The man went down. Priest looked around, finding Curley, Frank, and Rick beating the other three members who'd staked out the route they were on. Thanks to the prospects riding ahead of the transport spotting the Cusclan members, he and the other Tarkio members were able to keep them from riding off and warning their president.

Priest shook the pain out of his hand, waiting for the others to take away the threat.

Curley stood over the man he'd punched out and whipped his pistol out, pointing at the guy's head. Priest walked over to him.

"Put it away." He gazed around the area.

There were two farmhouses in the distance. Today was too important to send a message back to their enemies.

"We need to contact Jerry." Rick walked over, brought back his boot, and kicked the man in the kidney. "They'll be riding right into the trap in thirty minutes."

Priest threw the phone at Rick. "Make the call. Tell them to turn back. He'll need to take Highway Three and cut across. It's going to put us about fifty miles behind our schedule. Then, call the prospects and send them home."

He looked to Curley. "Clean these guys of everything they have before they rouse. Make sure they don't have a cell phone on them. That'll buy us some fucking time."

Looking over the damage they'd caused, he needed to make sure any threat to today's shipment wouldn't happen. The club relied on the profits that would come from a successful load. He went to his Harley, took a socket wrench out of his bag, and proceeded to remove the sparkplugs from each motorcycle.

By the time he took the last bike out of commission, two of the Cusclan members were sitting on their ass, holding their injured heads.

"Jerry's got the rig turned and is five minutes away from the highway. We need to hit the asphalt hard and catch up with them." Jerry eyed the men. "I'd love to get rid of these fuckers."

"Their time will come." Priest dumped all the spark plugs into his duffle. "Let's get the hell out of here."

Back on the road, knowing the Cusclan members would be there until someone figured out they weren't going to show up and send a search out for them, he worked through every possible situation. He couldn't underestimate his enemies.

In his world, he had to stay one step in front of any club that grew aggressive. He had to protect their livelihood. It was too easy to lose a life when times got desperate.

Since slapping on the president's patch, he'd lost nine men. Some of them were husbands and fathers. Some had only Tarkio to call family. There were currently twenty-two members sitting in prison, serving anywhere from three to life behind bars.

Each member meant something to him.

He wasn't the only one with no one who gave a damn about him.

That meant if someone threatened his family, he'd put a bullet in them without any thought of taking their life.

The life he and the other Tarkio member lived was only for the strong. Those ready to fight and kill for what they wanted.

It wasn't the life for a lady like Nicole. She was better off on her own. It was safer that way.

Whatever made her come into the clubhouse and party with Tarkio had nothing to do with Roy Guthrie's murder. He was sure of that.

Once he found out why Guthrie was murdered, he could put everything behind him, and try and forget about Nicole Bennett.

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