Page 34 of The Sins Of The Biker

Nodding, I grab my Corona and take a swig. “Hey, bartender, get my boys a beer too. It’s on me.”

“Cheers.”

The bartender moves away to help someone else, and I take a few peanuts from the bowl and swallow them down.

“Let’s finish these beers. Then we’re heading out to the fucker’s home. I need this taken care of tonight. I won’t be able to rest till it’s done.”

“We got you, Prez,” Wave states.

We finish our beers, then head outside to our bikes.

Confirming the address, it’s only a fifteen-minute ride.

I take the lead as my men follow behind me, one by one. It’s the longest fifteen minutes of my life. I want to kill the man who took away my family. I need this asshole’s blood on my hands.

Finally arriving, we park our bikes a few streets back. We don’t want them to be alerted to our presence. Then we walk down the street with guns in our hands.

We stand in front of the house, which looks like a tornado hit it and then hit it again. The front security door hangs off the hinges. There are patches of missing paint on the weatherboard, and the garden has been neglected for years.

The only thing that’s concerning is the lack of light and silence coming from the house.Are they even home?

Taking two steps at a time, I pause when we arrive at the front door and lean my ear against it to hear anything. It’s dead quiet. My men try peeking in the windows, but they see nothing.

“On three,” I whisper to my men.

They nod in agreement.

“One, two, three.” I kick the down door, and we run into the house with guns drawn.

“I’ll get the rooms,” Snake says, and Wave adds, “I’ll check the back.”

Upon heading to the kitchen, rats consume food scraps on the table and bench. The sink is filled with cups and plates, making it seem like no one has lived here for a while.

“Nothing,” Snake says, walking into the kitchen.

“Me too,” Wave adds.

The rest of the boys meet us, and we look at each other at a loss.

“They left. Fuck!” I roar, lifting a glass and throwing it against the wall.

The rats scurry around, and Wave takes a step toward me. “We will get them one way or another. We will. I swear it.”

“Fuck!” I growl, punching a fist into the drywall.

Wave steps behind me. “Prez, you hear me? Wewillget them.”

“When?” I snarl, picking up another glass but then stop.

“They must have flown the minute they killed Jim,” Curly states, and we all agree.

“Where the fuck would they have gone? Got any other info, Stanford?”

Stanford gives me a hard look. “I think it’s time we used our friends from the Bastard Boilers MC. Their prez, Azrael, and VP Asher have helped us in the past, and they’ve got fucking awesome connections.”

“Set it up. I want to talk to them tonight,” I demand.

“Will do.”

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