Page 1 of Twisted Ties

CHAPTER ONE

Buying Time from the Cartel

(Sledge)

A smoky violet dusk covers the skyline of Serenity on a Friday night while we stand outside of Hogs & Tail. I try not to grip the rickety railing too hard, but the way the conversation is running with Papo leaves me no choice but to white-knuckle it. It’s a dump of a place, and that’s just the right recipe for a biker gang to build camaraderie. There’s some posers, but from all the patches and cuts I’m seeing, it’s looking more like club fraternity.

The parking lot isn’t one—it’s a dirt patch of a square lined up with Harleys and a couple of sports bikes. There are no cars in sight. It’s not a place that a normal civilian visits for a friendly drink unless you’re a man or a woman who has a preference for dive bars and biker dick.

Psycho and Snatch are with me, chugging down their beers, wary and taking notes on who enters and exits. I’m the Sergeant in Arms, so keeping the club in alignment comes with the territory. I step back and rub my eye as Papo starts getting heated.

“What the fuck, Sledge? How are you telling me things are okay when that’s not the word on the street? You better not have lost that shipment. Let me repeat that again in case you didn’t hear me: you better not have lost that shipment.” There’s enough of a biting edge to his words that I can envision what the consequences will be for the Dark Angels if we can’t get the fentanyl back in motion.

I roll my eyes at the boys who are lighting up their respective cigarettes and trying to stay inconspicuous. It’s not working as a cute little blond-haired girl has her eyes wrapped around Psycho’s dick and is making eyes with him. Probably a pro. I tap him and clench my jaw. The look is enough, and he takes his eyes back from the seducer.

I tuck one of the longer edges of my black undercut behind my ear and release a silent sigh. I have a black mesh baseball cap that I slide back over my head and use to shield my deep-brown eyes as I move to the left, away from the door of the bar. We don’t have on disguises, but I figure if we can keep our tats and faces covered, then these clowns won’t pay too much attention.

Psycho and Snatch have on the same uniform as me, all three of us dressed in black. No patches, just dark black denim, heavy-duty biker boots that can crush a man’s face, and vengeance oozing out of our pores. We’re all packing, and I have a butterfly knife on the inside of my pants leg strapped to my calf.

Papo is a mid-level officer for the Cardez Cartel, and I have to explain enough to him in order for us, the Dark Angels, not to get our balls chopped off in the middle of the night. We’ve been doing good business with them for the last several years without a hitch. I’m hoping that puts us in good standing, but from the sounds of Papo, not as much as I’d thought.

“Hey easy, easy, Papo, I get it, I get where you’re coming from. I understand the frustration, but I wanna let you know we haven’t lost the shipment, it’s all sweet. It’s been misplaced, yes, I’ll admit that.”

I chuckle. Normally I’m fairly good at negotiations; that’s why I was elected as the Sergeant in Arms, keeping the club informed of when, how, what, and who, and I like to run a well-oiled machine. Right now, we’re operating with a few kinks, but I’m planning to smooth those out. It’s what I liken to a club ‘transition’ phase.

“Matter of fact, Papo, you can bet your ass that we’re on our way to go get it right now.”

“Don’t mention my ass again, Sledge.”

I give my brothers a warning glance as I watch patrons step out and head home for the night. Most of them are hopping on a bike and taking off. It’s late enough and after nine, and perfect timing to find out the information I want to know. I’m buying us some time, but I don’t know how much.

"I'll call you later, you better have it by then." He stalks off without another word, and I curse aloud.

Getting bum-rushed by the Savage Outlaws, our archnemesis rivals, on a standard drug run was never part of the plan, neither was the shooting and death of our club president Axe Madden. Sucked to be us and our balls are to the wall trying to figure out how to recoup what we’ve lost. I’m pissed thinking about those bastards selling our shit on the street and lining their pockets.

“What’d he say?” Snatch pushed as we walk single file to the seedy bar. Hogs & Tail is a known biker haunt, and smells of grease, violence, beer, bourbon, and plenty of dirty Savage Outlaws.

“That we would have a love fest later,” I said in a low voice and then switched to a hiss. “What do you think he said, Snatch? He’s going to kill us if we don’t get our shit, let’s just say I speak cartel.”

As soon as we enter, the energy darkens like a blanket of death. I can feel the deep undercurrent of violence and deception as we walk in the door. The place is teeming with feisty Savage Outlaws. It’s on their leather vests; it’s on some other jackets. Our little exercise of remaining undetected and seeking intel is a little farfetched if you ask me, but when we were back at the Church meeting, I’d been the one to put my hand up to ride out and play the game.

“Man, this shit ain’t a good idea. Unless one of these bitches blurts something out in drunkenness, we ain’t getting shit on them.”

Psycho is right and the idea sucks. If one of these heathens identifies us, we’re due to be pumped full of lead. For all the money the Savages are about to make, you would think they could afford to fix up the bar. It was more like an open barn, with its high beams and long threaded spiderwebs hanging from the ceiling. From the rafters hung flags, and I don’t know what the hell that’s about.

On the left, three Savage Outlaws are gathered around a dart board talking shit. There are a few girls in the room, and they’re looking our way. I shield my eyes from them; old ladies are sharp lookouts and we might be packing, but we’re in this bitch three to thirty, and those numbers aren’t conducive to coming out alive from anything.

There’s a jukebox on the right side and one of the crew is poring over it, trying to make a selection. He looks old and slow; at least I’m confident I can take him out. He lets a loud belch rip and presses a few illuminated buttons. Guns N’ Roses is playing so they don’t have half-bad musical tastes. All three of us are holding up a small circular table, attempting to avoid looking like we’re casing the place. I drain the rest of my beer with Papo’s veiled warning in my ears.

As I skim the outer rim of the bar, I take note of the sepia photographs on the wall, and the tiny bar. There was a tall, thin man behind there earlier, but I double-take when I see who pours the drinks now. A pouty, sultry-looking beauty with caramel hair and danger in her sexy hazel eyes. I’m drawn to her mystique, and I can’t figure out why. My drink almost slips through my fingers as I observe the lithe beauty at work. She is quick, nervy, but has a generous mouth covered in plum lipstick that I know just what to do with. Her cheekbones are cut like glass, and I’m smitten.

I can hear Pyscho and Snatch talking, I think. There’s not much I want to hear out of their mouths right now. A dull ache of a punch hits my arm and I snap out of the haze the bar beauty encases me in. "Yo, we gotta roll! Before these motherfuckers make us."

His punch snapped my head up as one of the old ladies sitting at the back starts whispering to one of the others. That’s our cue, but I have to sneak one more look at the sexy hottie staffing the bar. "Yup, let's..."

What I see next enrages me. A large Neanderthal biker with a ponytail and linebacker shoulders says something to the gorgeous creature, and now she’s cowering. He’s twice the size of her; he shoves her so hard that she doesn’t have enough time to clutch onto the wooden bar. I hear the thud against the ground as she shrieks. There’s a flailing of arms and legs on ground and every evil and sick thought about what I want to do to the Savages erupts.

“No!” her voice floats up from the floor as she tries to get away from the Neanderthal. “He’s just getting a drink, it’s not a big deal. He didn’t ask me nothing.”

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