Page 80 of Final Ride

The SWAT team stood guard around the perimeter of the meeting room while the squad cuffed every biker and lined them up for the bus.

“Bus will be here for y’all soon but y’all still have time to tell me where they took Dale.”

Farrell watched the faces of the bikers as Blacky talked and as soon as Dale’s name was mentioned, one of the Breed twitched.

Farrell moved closer to that guy and shoved his shotgun into the big guy’s chest. “Where’s Dale?”

“I ain’t telling you, pig.”

Blam.

Farrell shot a hole in the floor right next to the biker’s Harley boot.

The noise was horrendous and made the guy holler out, “Don’t know where he is. I swear.”

Blacky tilted his head, and the squad began marching the prisoners out to the transport vehicle.

Annie arrived with Harlan and Virge as the clubhouse was being cleared out. She handed a piece of paper to her son, Blaine.

“I have the names and addresses of the top three here, honey bun. I’m betting they weren’t here at the clubhouse.”

“No, they weren’t,” said Blaine. “Let’s start with the president. Where’s he live?”

“Fat Boy Rayfield. He’s right here in Sugarland.”

“Let’s pay him a visit,” said Blaine. He pointed at Casey, and he got behind the wheel of the monster truck—the one Harlan and Virge were staring at.

“Like your truck, Ranger Blackmore,” said Virge. “Fuckin’ amazing.”

Blacky chuckled. “I don’t get to take my baby off-road enough. Maybe I’ll pick you boys up and we’ll go out to the swamp down Black Snake Road. That ain’t far from where y’all bought your new spread.”

“Yeah, for sure,” said Virge. “That would be fantastic.”

Rayfield Residence. Sugarland.

Blaine led the way to Fat Boy’s place figuring Travis wouldn’t be there. Too fuckin’ obvious. The club leader was smart enough to know we’d look at him first.

“I think the Houston club is only grabbing him for the Vegas chapter,” said Casey. “The big boss in Sin City is the one who wants Dale Burden for payback.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. Houston chapter grabs him and holds him until the Vegas guys come to get him. That means Houston can’t kill him.”

“Not yet,” said Casey.

“Who’s the current guy causing all the trouble in Vegas?” asked Blaine.

“Army Vincente. Some say he’s as bad as the twins used to be—Bruce and the Deuce.”

“Doubt if anybody could measure up to the vileness of those two sewer rats,” said Blaine.

The convoy parked in front of Rayfield’s shabby frame bungalow and surrounded the place.

“Breach front and back doors on the count of three,” hollered Farrell.

They swarmed the place and found nobody. The house was empty.

“Snag and bag everything we can use against Rayfield,” shouted Farrell to his gang squad boys. “Guns, drugs, all of it.”

“Copy, boss,” Jimmy Jeff hollered back. “Rolling it all up.”

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