?Chapter Eighteen
Cherry
Several long weeks later, the ASMC finally struck back. They claimed responsibility for a torched warehouse on the edge of Baton Rouge, where IMC rented storage for bike parts and supplies. Ruger called it “a blazing middle finger to the idea of a truce or understanding.”
It took a day, but Cherry found where their leadership had holed up and sent out an all-hands call, with a rally point a few miles from the true location, a bar. He kept an open line with the bartender, handset laid on the countertop so he could listen in on the loud bragging the ASMC was doing.
Within twenty minutes, they had enough members at the meeting place, so Cherry sent out another all-hands text, pointing everyone to the bar.
With tension high they mounted up, and he rode out knee-to-knee with Busk; Denis’ worried *Stay safe* text burning in his pocket. The fight was quick and brutal. IMC had brought only fists and chains, leaving an ASMC prospect the first one spitting blood and teeth. Cherry pushed hard to make ASMC scatter, and he smiled when they left the bar via four different doors. Each man’s only thought was their individual safety. He chased the VP out to the lot and caught up to him just before he swung a leg over a bike. Cherry didn’t announce himself, just swung the length of chain at the man’s legs, taking them out from under him. The man howled, rolling to his back with hands up defensively.
“The fuck, man?” The lack of eloquence made Cherry laugh.
“Reminding all of you to stay clear of the IMC, because we’ll go hard next time. Scatter your bones in a dozen bayou. You want to convince your president to relocate, or I’ll keep hunting you.”
Cherry took a hit to the ribs and swung around to find two ASMC members standing there with only bare fists. He threatened with the chain and both broke, bolting away without a word.
“They don’t give a shit about anything.” Cherry probed the growing lump along his ribcage. “They also aren’t any use in a fight, but I suspect you’re realizing that now.”
The man clawed his way upright and gestured to the bike. Cherry nodded, advising, “Might wanna have someone give me a shout when you’ve worked out your plan. We’ll hit you again, and the next time we’ll be playing hardball.” The VP nodded and climbed aboard the bike. In less than a minute, he was gone up the dirt road, not even looking back at the five or six members laid out in the grass.
“He’s a shit officer.” Cherry turned, Busk walking up. Together they surveyed the little bit of damage given to the IMC members. They’d taken a few hits, but gave worse, and as the dust settled, the line held.
It would be up to the presidents of the clubs to sort out a truce, or the next lesson the ASMC learned would be a final one for many of them.
“Good job, Enforcer. Your intelligence was completely spot on.” Busk turned as more IMC members rolled to a stop in the bar’s lot. “I think I need to buy a couple of rounds for the locals and our guys. That way they’ll get the stories told, letting them expand from there.”
“Sounds like a good plan. I’m going to check the ones still down, figure out what we’re going to do with them.” Cherry shook his head. “Hopefully they can all ride out. That’d be better than me rounding up a few cages.”
“You get done with that, come inside and get a beer. Celebrate with your brothers.”
“Yes, sir.” Cherry grinned at him, still riding the high of the successful operation. “See you in a few, brother.”
Back at Denis’ place that night, bruised and still buzzing with adrenaline, Cherry let Denis patch him up. The man’s hands were gentle, but the look in his eyes fierce. “You’re insane,” Denis muttered, but his kiss was hungry, claiming, and Cherry sank into it, the tension bleeding out of his muscles.
Hands roaming up and down Denis’ sides, Cherry let himself relax for the first time. “Not running,” Cherry said against his lips, echoing that first night.
Denis smiled, sharp and sure. “Not letting you.”
“You done playing Nightingale nurse?” Cherry gripped Denis’ hips and rolled them, landing on top of Denis. “Because we could do some other roleplay if you wanted.” He ground his hips against Denis’ and found a matching erection. Groaning, he urged, “Tell me you’re ready.”
“Well, it’ll take a little work ...”
“I can put in the work, my guy. Long as you’re ready to start now.” Cherry leaned in for another kiss. It was so good he sought out another that was slower, longer, and somehow hotter. “God, Denis, you just do it for me.”
