Page 1 of Broken Cracks

Chapter One

Psych

This is not a good place to be in.Bringing up the rear, the cops were sliding their slinky asses in between our hogs and cutting us off from Slash and crew up ahead.The fuck they are.The inky black night is alright with stars and the other kind of lights that we bikers want nothing to do with. Sledge and I make eye contact, knowing we have to do something, and my senses are tingling. It’s why we’re bringing up the rear—to protect the pack. I’m going to have to do something to create a diversion. The road is treacherous, and we bump over potholes.

Sledge is giving me the hand signal, but I gotta bide my time for us to get to a smoother level. I’m not about to roll my bike over some damn potholes before I get the job done. If I don’t take control of the situation and Slash keeps on rolling like he is, we’re gonna get in trouble one way or the other.

I have to get the Dark Angels over the line and switch it up; otherwise we're about to be the Dead Angels with our wings ripped out and no flight plan in sight. We’ve got two deputies in each car and the Sheriff is in one. I can see the back of the pea brain’s head and if I had the time to slow down, I could reach in my holster and pop me one, but my Psycho-o-meter is in check, and my other empathic abilities are front and center.

I swing behind Sledge from the left side of the road to avoid a large crater.Where is the mayor to fix these goddamn back roads?That’s what I’m thinking in my head, but at the same time, I’m formulating a plan. Sledge knows how I move. He’s going to let me take the reins on it.

We are in a sweet spot, because a few miles ahead we will be sitting right at the county border, and there’s nothing the Sheriff can do once we hit that line.Time to play biker chess.My heart is hammering as loud as a clap of thunder in my broad chest, but it’s what makes me come alive. I like the pace of it; it helps me keep calm. Better than the psych ward, and two rungs up from hell’s gates in that place, but I’m better now; at least I’m not on meds anymore. I can control the kill switch, but right now I have to activate it.

I pull back on my throttle and punch it up next to the police cruiserwagon and investigate the open window. There’s a moment of confusion on the Sheriff’s saddle-sacked face. He glances at the cop next to him who isn’t about to do shit. I hoist a fat middle finger to him, a nice hard one for good measure, and stick my tongue out. I taunt the pigs and then drive my bike forward as the thunder in my heart matches the dirty rumbling vibration of my bike underneath.

This is enough to get the attention of Slash and Bull upfront; now they’re getting it as I take off and head for the border. I draw them out of the shadows and into the open as I hear the sirens blaring and see the flash of red and blue alongside my bikes. My brothers are behind me, and I can hear their bikes picking up speed.We’re in this thing together.

“Yeeooowwww, baby!” I call into the hollow of the wind. This is the life, flying free; sucks we ain’t getting the drugs back tonight, but I got my diversion plan working like it should. I press forward to the border, knowing this beast of a hog can flat-out go. Once I set my foot on this puppy, and with the way I maneuver, no one can touch me.

The deputy has a plan of his own, as I can feel him coming up on my right side. I’m ten steps ahead of him due to my empathic abilities. He’s gonna try and run me into the cow patch on the left side of the road, but now that I’ve got clearance between me and the crew, I can work my magic. I'm rippingthe throttleso hard the wind is cutting through my eyes,causing themto water up.

Take a chance. Pull your gun. Pull your gun and shoot the mofo.

I’m a smart psycho at least and I got an automatic single action pistol in the clip of my shoulder holster. Yep. Two guns. One fucked-up mind, or ghastly brilliant as I’ve come to know it. I pull it, squint one burning out as the deputy Sheriff swings his wheel hard to the left with a grimace.Man, he’s trying to take me out!

“Shouldn’t have done that, deputy, now you’ve made me mad.”

I aim for his wheel and ping it twice and wave to my brothers behind me to anticipate a wayward car having a hissy fit. I’m right on the mark as the deputy is ill-equipped to deal with a man of my caliber. His tires screech as he tries to wrangle in control of his vehicle. Nope. Too late. Bitch. I blew out the front tire for good measure, because if there’s one thing I know, his vehicle is now unbalanced, and one side is messed the hell up.Shouldn’t mess with a psychooooo.

I laugh into the dark as my brothers move around the car and Sledge shoots at the other side of the vehicle, finishing the job I started. Both of us bunch up and hit the Mexican border without interference. The sound of the cop cars become a distant whir and when get clear, we slow down.

I kill the engine and put my feet on the ground, laughing my ass off. I take my helmet off, and it’s wet from the sweaty fuel of adrenaline running like hot steam through my veins.

“Man, what a shit show. We tried to signal Slash, but he didn’t turn back,” I say to him as I rest my helmet on my thigh. “I’m glad we got them off their tails. Probably turned around by now. They were racing for those drugs without checking behind. We gotta get a better system. We need radios or some shit.”

“Yeah, he was booking it trying to get to the stash house. It’s the pressure of him being in the presidential seat, and I gotta make sure we got those radios. You’re right, it’s a good point. Man, that was awesome, you were looking good out there,” Sledge mentions in appreciation. The patches who are riding with us are getting a firsthand education. Not that Slash isn’t a patch, but I don’t look at him that way so much anymore. He’s wearing his position so well.

I unpack my cigarettes, tapping the bottom, and offer one to Sledge, who takes one with a grin on his face. I fist bump him. “Way to shoot, brother. Nice.”

“You’re packing a shoulder holster? When did you get that?” I shelter my cigarette, letting the light spark at the end of it. “Man, I’m the surprise packet. This is what I do. What’s my name?”

“Yeah, you’re right. Every time I think I got you figured out, Psych, you come up with something else to blow my mind. Was that the fucking deputy?” Sledge asks, slicing a hand through his hair.

“Yep, speaking of people to deal with, looks like there’s another crew on this side. It’s not border patrol, either. It’s a coyote. I can feel it. He’s got some minors with him.”

“How can you tell that, Psych? Those figures are standing right behind the fence line. I can’t even see them.” Sledge squints and looks through at the border patrol station about twenty paces away from us. There’s a circle of humans, but I can cut through and see them a little clearer. I have good night vision.

“It’s not a cop. I can feel the guy. Shut up, he’s coming over here.” A man with dark pupils shining through the shadows and a hitched gait and cowboy hat is making his way toward us. I know about coyotes smuggling immigrants across the border for a price, and I know he’s about to ask us for something. I take a puff of my cigarette, letting my heart rate slow down a little.

“Is that Tito?” Sledge asks under his breath as he reaches for his gun.

“Yeah, it’s him. Look at the walk,” I say to him through my teeth.

Tito has a gap in one of his teeth and stands no taller than five-six, with leathery skin and a long thin beard and a ponytail. “Aye, Dark Angels. How are you tonight?”

“Mighty fine, Tito. What’s going on with you? Looks like you got a crew with you,” I observe, spitting the grit of the nicotine out of my mouth. Tito is a known identity to us, as he’s offered protection on both sides of the border, so I relax the tension in my shoulders as I roll them back and listen.

“You wanna make some bank tonight?” His blunt enquiry is clear, and I nod my head.

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