Page 84 of Final Ride

Annie gave us a short course on what we were going to do when we got to the clubhouse and how we’d get it done.

Me and Virge listened up because Dad’s life depended on us getting him away from the Black Breed.

Black Breed Clubhouse. Boulder City. Nevada.

Mick drove past the clubhouse driveway and backed in. He parked close to the door and me and Virge knew what we had to do. We ran around to the back door and got ready to kick it in as soon as we heard the first shot.

Annie knocked on the front door and had to pound again before she got an answer. Mick stood just behind her and to her left, so he was out of the line of sight.

One of the Breed opened the door and sneered at her, then hollered over his shoulder, “It’s a woman.”

In a sweet voice, Annie asked, “Is Army here, sugar?”

“No, he ain’t.”

“Where is he? I need to talk to him about something important.”

“He’s taking care of business.”

“At his house?”

Because she was a woman and to him she presented no danger, the biker didn’t care a blue whit about telling her where his boss was. “Yeah, private business. What’s it to you? You one of his bitches? Haven’t seen you hanging around before.”

“Something like that.” Annie raised her Beretta and shot the biker in the head. When he crashed backwards onto the floor, Mick tossed the grenade.

“Frag,” one of the bikers yelled as they dove for cover.

Harlan kicked in the back door and tossed his grenade, then he and Virge ran for the parking lot and Virge pulled the pin andtossed his into the row of Harleys.

Leaving the blazing inferno behind them, they ran for the truck that Mick left running, piled in and headed for Army Vincente’s house up in Henderson.

“Nice work, boys,” said Annie. “That will set them back a little.”

“I wanted Travis to be there,” said Virge.

“I didn’t think they’d hold him there,” said Annie, “but we had to be sure. The mess we made will create a busy diversion for any survivors while we concentrate on getting Travis away from the big boss.”

Vincente Residence. Henderson. Nevada.

The National President of the Black Breed lived in a flat-roofed frame house with a tin-roofed lean-to attached for his Harley.

Two other bikes were parked under the shelter next to the boss’s ride.

“Top three are here but only three,” said Annie. “The rest will be coming to watch the boss kill Travis, but we’ll be gone before that happens.”

“What’s the plan?” asked Virge.

“Mick and Harlan come in from the back, so nobody squirts out. Virgil and I will blast in from the front and try to knock all three of them down on the first round of shooting.”

“Copy that,” said Virge. “Long as I know what you want, Mom, I’m good for it.”

Annie smiled. “You’re a good boy, Virgie.”

As soon as Mick and Harlan were in position in the tiny back yard, Virge kicked in the front door. Adrenaline pumping, he and Annie ran in shooting.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Virge fired off three quick head shots and dropped all three of the Breed before they knew what happened.

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