I turned to see Frig standing there, a clipboard in his hands, taking one last inventory of the shit in our club code before we took off,.
“Thinking about logistics. We're splitting the prospects evenly, right?”
“Yeah, yeah,” he rolled his eyes. “You worry too fucking much, Blacky. Don't worry. I'll make sure your widdle family has a full set of Swiss guards protecting 'em all the time.”
He slapped me on the back. Hard as fuck resisting the urge to bust his cocky, fucked up jaw.
“Aw, don't be like that, man. I'm just jacking you off.” Frig winked and licked his lips like a total psycho. “You can hang back and watch the train of prospects around their car if you don't believe me. They're safe, or else you're calling me a damned liar, and then we'll have to throw fists.”
Fuck if I wasn't ready. Every finger ached to feel this weasel's bones snap under them, but I held back, walked away without a second word to the fucker.
I'd make sure he kept good on his promise. I'd been assigned to ride tail gunner with Wheeler and several other guys anyway, and we'd make damned sure nobody crept up on our column, making its way down SoCal.
We were just starting to cross the edge of the Mojave when I saw the Scorps. The fuckers were coming up on us fast, a huge train of them, more trucks than bikes. Their group split apart and covered both sides of the road.
“They're coming! We'd better line the fuck up and protect the goods. Keep on going, don't stop for anything, I need at least ten guys to hang back with me and –“
Static cut me off my screaming into the radio. I heard Frig's voice, enraged and barking orders.
“You heard the asshole! Brothers, half you fuckers hang back, and the rest of you go on and get the truck with the rest of our guys. You know the plan.”
The Scorps were gaining on us fast. I drew my nine and expected the fuckers to be right on top of me, but their trucks roared right past, going on ahead, ignoring me. They went straight for the soft targets – the car with our families and the two big trucks.
“They're going for the head!” I yelled into the radio.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. I howled bloody murder, getting off a few shots that grazed their wheels, without doing much good.
Nobody was responding anymore, too busy circling, clogging up the lonely highway, lost in a panic. The Scorps' biker train crashed into us and cut our group in two, a solid distraction to keep our crew from rushing to defend the cargo.
Barely had time through all the shooting to look on ahead, but I saw Julie's car split off as the drug trucks pulled ahead. The caravan of our prospects protecting Julie, Lizzie, and the kids broke away to surround the trucks as the first Scorps closed, leaving the families defenseless.
“Fuck!” I swore, and shot a Scorp riding up on me through his chest. Several more rival fuckers got their asses blasted right off their bikes.
Our crew slowed, took aim, and thinned their numbers one by one. Their club went through men like nothing else, and few of these assholes were battle hardened. We screeched to a full stop and made our stand while everybody else blew on ahead of us.
“Shit!” I slammed my handlebars, face to face with too many killer assholes to do shit about my girl now.
Frig stopped responding, or else the bastard ignored everything I'd said.
I took over. Started roaring orders to the men who'd joined me, a mix of full patch brothers and prospects, including Wheeler.
The boys held their fire 'til my mark when the second Scorps wave approached. Then we opened up, just when they were drawing, slowing their bikes, getting ready to jump off and start shooting. Their last truck kept coming, tried to go right through us, roll a couple guys over.
Flinching was for pussies. I dug my heels into the turf, blasting away at the approaching horde, crouching behind my poor shot up bike for cover. Several guys caught lead in their chests and crumpled over, gurgling raw blood.
“He's not gonna fucking stop!” Wheeler roared, pushing another clip into his gun and firing furiously at the truck.
We'd blown out the windshield, but the fucking thing was still screaming toward us, ready to run half the brothers over, including me.
Didn't have time for this shit. Not when my old lady and my kid were fending for themselves. My gun came up with an eerie calm and I narrowed my eyes, thinking about how bad Frig had fucked up.
Rage made a miracle that day. I hit the driver in the shoulder and the truck swerved, heading off into the desert.
“Go, go, go!” I screamed, waving the prospects toward it. They didn't need to be told a second time – just hopped on their bikes and went screaming toward the big rock where the Scorps had come to a stop.
Incredibly, we hadn't taken shit for casualties, minus a couple guys who'd gotten grazed in their arms or legs. The crew we'd chewed up must've been three times our size, and now they were all dead on the open, a few last bikes whipping around and tearing back the way they came.