“From the Insurgents’ side we got me, Hawk, Throttle, Bones, Rock, Chas, Jax, Rags, Bear, Wheelie, and Jerry leaving tonight. Like I said, we got three other brothers already there.” Banger wiped his hands on his jeans.
Steel leaned against the back wall. “We got ten of us, so we should be good with our numbers. Goldie’s our road captain and he and yours, Throttle, will handle the vehicles that have the weapons.” Hawk and Banger nodded.
“Doc’s gonna ride with us,” said Throttle. “He said he’s got a couple suitcases full of shit to patch us up if we need it.” Laughter rumbled around the room.
“He can be trusted?” Steel asked.
“Fuck yeah. He’s been keeping us from dying for ’bout ten years,” Throttle replied.
“And the twenty-five thousand we’ll put in his fuckin’ hands also helps his loyalty,” Hawk said.
“And the desire to live,” Crow added. Hawk laughed, nodding.
“Have a bit of relaxation, but nothing hardcore ’cause we got a lot of shit that’s gonna go down. We leave tonight at seven.”
Banger banged the gavel on the table and church was over.
***
Under the chillof the mist that spread over the field, Steel clutched the cold metal of the assault rifle. He commando-crawled toward the Demon Riders inside the clubhouse—the enemy. In front, behind, and on the sides of him, he saw the smudgy forms of his brothers moving toward battle. Frosty puffs of vapor rose from their noses and mouths as they pushed onward.
Puck, Johnnie, and Axe’s scouting had confirmed that there were fourteen members who resided in the clubhouse, plus four club girls, and that Wednesday early mornings were quiet. As far as they could tell, there were no citizens involved with the day-to-day activities of the club. They didn’t have patrols except for a pack of pit bulls and German shepherds—seven in all. The pivotal element was to keep the dogs from barking.
From what the three Insurgents observed, it appeared that they weren’t trained guard dogs, just vicious beasts who were kept at the point of starvation. Several MCs kept their dogs hungry in the belief that it made them meaner, so the Insurgents and the Night Rebels figured that the dogs would be entirely susceptible to an offer of food. Once Axe, Puck, and Johnnie fed the dogs, they’d shoot them with dart guns loaded with tranquillizers.
While the three brothers dealt with the dogs, the group of bikers crawling in the fields moved as one in a sea of black. Each face was grim against the chilly wind, and on every hand was a black glove. The sky was dark and gloomy without a star in sight. The clouds were so thick that only a sliver of the moon shone through.
When Axe gave the signal to Hawk that the dogs were down, Hawk flicked a lighter several times and the group jumped to their feet, crouching as they approached the dark club. The brothers easily secured the exits. Steel stepped lightly on the porch and slowly picked the lock, then carefully turned the knob and went in, four of his men in tow. He met Hawk, who’d entered from the rear, in the middle of a decent-sized room.
The clubhouse was an old two-story farmhouse with a basement. Its floorboards squeaked and they had to walk carefully and slowly to mute the sound. Between the two clubs, they outnumbered the Demon Riders by ten. Also, the club had no idea it was being invaded, so Steel figured they partied too much the night before, which would prove beneficial to the Night Rebels in claiming victory after it was all finished.
He glanced at Hawk. “My men are telling me there’s no one on this floor. They must all be upstairs and downstairs.” Steel motioned for five of his men to go downstairs while Hawk did the same with four of his brothers.
“Let’s go upstairs,” Hawk said.
Steel nodded. “Once I give the signal, all hell will break loose.” Hawk tilted his chin and shined his flashlight on the staircase. All of the men had kill-lights—large industrial flashlights—which acted as both a light source and a weapon. They were legal and effective; many a rival member’s head had been split open with them.
The plan was that the minute the first shots were heard, the brothers downstairs would open fire. The brothers outside would make sure to eliminate anyone who escaped the massacre in the house.
Just as Steel was ready to give the word to the men upstairs with him, he heard a loud voice boom from below, “What the fuck is goin’ on?” He spun around and saw a man in his forties coming up the stairs, an assault rifle in his hands. “Get the fuck down here or I’ll shoot,” the man said.
Steel saw a couple of Demon Riders behind him.Where the fuck did they come from? I thought the first floor had been secured.
“Drop your fuckin’ weapon. Nice and easy. Kick it down the stairs.” The man took two more steps forward.
Steel glanced sideways at Hawk, who stood in the shadows. It seemed like the man and his cohorts thought Steel was the only intruder in the clubhouse. “I’m not dropping shit,” he said through clenched teeth.
“Then your ass is gonna be filled with holes.” He climbed another step. “Who the fuck are you?”
“Fuck you,” Steel said as his finger tightened on the trigger. Then he heard Brutus’s voice, loud and angry. “Put your fuckin’ guns down or I’m gonna start shooting.”
He must have come up from the basement. Perfect timing, brother.
The man pointing the gun at Steel turned around for a split second, and Steel used that opportunity to lunge at him, shoving him down the stairs. Several deep voices emerged from behind the closed doors upstairs. It was only a matter of time before all the Demon Riders would be out of their rooms.
Before he could give the signal, shots came from the basement, then the first floor, and then where he was upstairs. The gunshots cracked into the air as loud as thunder as men screamed, cursed, and cried out in pain. The violent noise filled the club and spilled outside, cracking into the startled air. The endlessrat-a-tat-tatof assault rifles created their own harmonies as the smell of gunpowder mingled with the coppery scent of blood. More shouting. More screaming. More running. The attack was fierce, efficient, and deadly.
On the second floor, Steel went from room to room, kicking open doors and flinging rounds of bullets in rapid succession. “You secure the attic?” he asked Sangre who bolted past him, blood dripping down his arm.
