For many years, the Insurgents and the Deadly Demons used to be rival clubs, and club wars were the norm. After years of killing each other and having brothers on both sides locked up, the two clubs called a truce. They both recognized that neither side was winning, but they were all losing, so for the past five years, the Deadly Demons did their thing and the Insurgents did theirs. As long as the Deadly Demons respected the Insurgents and their territory, the Insurgents had no reason to mess with them.
The Nomads seemed like they respected the truce between their mother club and the Insurgents, but they didn’t—they’d overstepped the line, and some retribution was necessary. The Nomads not only trafficked women and meth through Insurgents territory, they had also placed a thief at Dream House, had the fucking badges focused on the Insurgents, and their asshole president, Viper, had messed with Cara. Whether the national president, Reaper, condoned the betrayal was unclear, but what was clear was that the assholes needed to be set straight.
Viper came out of the clubhouse and walked toward the truck, and it took all of Hawk’s resolve not to shoot him on the spot. Seeing Viper’s hands, he pictured them on Cara’s body, and he grunted angrily. Jax, hearing Hawk’s short breaths, whispered, “Easy, now, you got time for all that. We’re here to scout.”
“I know. I just can’t wait to stomp on that fucker’s balls,” Hawk hissed.
Viper opened the back of the truck, and two Nomads jumped into the back. “Out, get the fuck out. Now. Come on sluts, out!”
Fifteen young, terrified ladies jumped out the back of the truck. Viper touched each woman as they passed him, grabbing their tits, asses, and pussies. The women recoiled from his touch, and a pretty blonde girl with ice blue eyes sobbed. Viper pulled her from the group. “Put this one in the basement in the Dungeon Room,” he said to one of the members. As she twisted in Viper’s grip, he backhanded her, then dragged her to the cellar door.
A brunette dressed in leather shorts and a tight top stood shivering in the late-morning air. Viper pulled her to him and squeezed her tits. Yelping, the woman struggled to break free of him, and a cruel smile played on Viper’s lips. “You’re a fighter. I like that. We’re gonna have some fun before I send you to Phoenix.” Viper shoved her into a side door, saying, “Take her to my room.”
For half an hour, the women were checked in, groped, slapped, and shoved through various doors. Each time one of the Nomads abused a woman, the Insurgents clenched their jaws. They would’ve liked nothing better than to take out those motherfuckers and free the women, but the Nomads overpowered them in numbers—there were twelve members including Viper. Hawk didn’t want to jeopardize their lives, but he hated to see the women mistreated. Although, he knew after the women left the clubhouse, a dire fate faced them as they’d be smuggled to various massage parlors and brothels across state lines.
“You two stay here to see when the women leave. These assholes won’t risk keeping them here overnight. My guess is they’ll move them out soon. Jax, give Banger a call with the details. I’ll send some more brothers. Once the women are out, riddle the club.” Several assault weapons and grenades accompanied the group on their scouting mission. “Blow it to fuckin’ Hell,” he said.
“Can’t wait,” Jax said while Chas nodded. Everyone’s adrenaline pumped.
“We’ll get a few members to intercept the truck and let the women go. This trafficking is pussy bullshit. I knew the Nomads were nothin’ but bitches,” Hawk sneered. “Keep Viper alive until I get back. That fucker is mine.”
Hawk rolled his Harley down a ways so as not to create suspicion among the Nomads. Then he jumped on and hauled ass to Pinewood Springs.
When Hawk entered the clubhouse, Banger greeted him and said, “The grapevine is tellin’ me these bastards are acting alone. If we don’t stomp them out, the national Deadly Demons’ president has word out to the New Mexico clubs to take them out. Seems they neglected to tell Reaper they had a sex-trafficking side business that brings in hundreds of thousands of dollars, and they forgot to tell him ’bout the meth they’ve been cooking. Looks like these fuckers don’t wanna share, and Reaper ain’t too pleased.”
“Good, then when we blow them to Hell, the Demons aren’t gonna shed any tears, right?” Hawk asked.
“Hardly. They’ll be grateful to us for doin’ their dirty work and keepin’ them under the radar.”
“Can’t wait to kick some Nomad ass.” Hawk clenched his fists.