Page 1 of Ruthless Malice

Chapter One : Warrant Served

Bull

These boys are toss bag amateurs. My war vet crew, if fit and healthy, would run rings around them. Most of them need their heads busted in. Like Slash, with his stupid corner-cutting ideas, who is costing the club manpower, dollars, lives, and time. He’s getting on my last nerve. The cocky son of a bitch thinks he’s going to keep his seat, but I’m a motherfucking war veteran. I know how to lay low and strike when I need to. It’s only a matter of timing.

I cut my eyes over to him in the shadows. He remains stoically quiet while these three cop assholes shine their flashlights in our faces like the goddamnBlair Witch Project. I put my hand up to shield from the flashlight. Another distracting tactic to put us off. My blood is boiling in my veins, and I want to take the flashlight and shove it up Sheriff Hunter’s rectum. Something like the boys do in prison, but I let my temper cool off. This ain’t the time and place for it.

Look at this clown. His father should be turning over in his grave. Not that I give a fuck.He’s not even a shadow of Axe. If you saw Slash’s silhouette on the wall, it would be a field mouse, not the lion he envisions himself to be.

This bonehead Sheriff is part of the Savage crew’s come-up. I can smell the kickback energy on him. They know about us. Fat load of good it did us having one of the little-ass deputies helping. Officer Jansen ain’t the best ally. Why didn’t he alert the club to the fact the Sheriff was the ops? Any idiot could see the Serenity police were working with them. Jensen is doing sweet jack-all for the Dark Angels. I grind my fist into the palm of my hand with my feet shoulder-width apart.

I’m not about to let some weasel cops intimidate the club. Might be stars in his eyes, but there’s about to be stars ringing around his head like in them cartoons if he ain’t careful. I try to keep out of fights these days. I’d seen enough fights in my life to last me for all eternity. Bar brawls, fights in my Panama units. Fights in the club. I’d had my share of busted knuckles and I even though the knees were a little worn out, I can still pack a mean jab and hook cross.

I step up to the plate while the boys remain silent. The cops are closing in on our turf with a piece of paper to search the clubhouse.

“Let’s see that piece of paper you got there before we go any further, Sheriff. This is the second time you’ve come sniffing around. You wouldn’t be making us a target, would you?” I asked in a gruff voice as the Crest-smelling cop places his fingers into his belt buckle.

“I’m not sure what you’re accusing me of, but again, like I said—it’s a little walk-through we wanna do, and then we’ll check your van and be on our way. All going well, me and my officers won’t find a single illegal item or firearm. Things will be peachy keen, and we can get out of your hair.”

The Sheriff smirked at me as I cut back at him with a death adder glare. He was taking a dig at me—the same way I’d worn my hair since the eighties, except back then it was a pleasant shade of dirty-blonde. These days, it’s a distinguished salt-and-pepper color. Not bad for a sixty-three-year-old.

I beckon with my busted-up fingers. “Then let me see the paper and get the flashlights out of my boy’s face. We can head inside when I’ve reviewed it. Better not be some bullshit document you forged,” I said to him with a toothy grin.

“Official government document. You can hold it up to the light to check it out. Confirm with the department if you want to. Oh, that’s right, I’m the Sheriff. I’m the person to see,” he says cockily. Sure enough, it looks legitimate. What I’m really doing is giving the team enough time to pick up the pieces and make sure they got their shit together.

“Come on. You wanna a cup of Joe with some cookies, officers? You might want a glass of milk before bedtime. I don’t know how you take it.” Sledge gave them a rib as Sheriff Hunter rolls his tongue around in his mouth. He stops short of investigating the inside and I halt, too.

“Matter of fact, now we have that warrant. Let’s go back and check out the van you didn’t want to show us last time.”

I sharpen my focus through the chill of the night. Snatch just got back from the run, and I lock eyes with him. He looks scared. That’s not the look of the man who’s got the bounty. There’s no room for fear at a time like this. His expression looks like he has something he doesn’t want to be seen in the van. We only cleared it out a short while ago, so it’s better they search the van and not the warehouse.

Lara is standing beside him, looking guilty.Dumb blonde.Why did he have to pick a Savage’s daughter? “Open the door,” Sheriff Hunter demands to Snatch, tapping on the side of it.

“Nah, I’m not opening shit, bitch!” Snatch stands in front of the door with his arms crossed. This ain’t gonna end well.

“Move out of the door, otherwise I’m going to have to use bodily harm to make you move. Do you understand me?” Sheriff Hunter states with a controlled sarcasm.

“Make me,” Snatch says, spitting on the ground. I tilt my head down, waiting for the bitch slap from the Sheriff, but he spares him. “You ain’t about to do nothing. You’ll be up on an excessive force charge if you do.”

“Not if you don’t move, especially if I warned you already. Besides, my officers didn’t see me use violence, did you, men?”

“Nope, we didn’t see shit,” one officer calls out.

“Oh, so that’s the way you wanna play? We got cameras right there above the warehouse. You won’t get away with it.” Snatch points to the camera and, as per the solidarity of the club, the boys are still standing in front of the warehouse door. Every one of us can retaliate if we want. I got a knife in my back pocket; no gun, but Slash is packing and so is Sledge.

“Just open the fucking door!” the Sheriff shouts and his men inch closer with their hands on their sausage batons.

I gotta shut this little ego crusader down. “Cut the shit, Snatch, just open the door. Let’s get this shit over with.”

I snap my fingers at him. Snatch reluctantly slides the van door open, and the three officers almost tumble inside. I want to boot them in the ass, pushing them in there, but resist the urge.

Snatch opens the van door, and the Sheriff sees the empty mattress. He sniffs around inside with his cronies. He’s knocking on the van doors. I smirk. Bitch doesn’t know what he’s doing.Nothing.Good.I know what the van contains; we got most of the drugs out, but if there was any more, we would store it in the trap walls and the floor of the van. We had the van designed this way specifically. That was one smart thing Axe did before he died.

The Sheriff jumps out, looking at a smug Snatch with his arms crossed.

Don’t be so smug yet, motherfucker.

Sheriff Hunter opens the driver’s side door and I move forward so I can monitor him. He’s got nothing, I’m thinking, but wait… there’s a black duffel bag up front on the ground and I want to thump this dumb fuck on the back of the head.

---