"They should be stomped to death for having rice burners alone," Bones said, and all the Insurgents' and Night Rebels' members laughed.
"We have to teach them that they're not wanted in Insurgents' or Night Rebels' territory. These fuckin' punks don't know shit. They have to ask permission to have a club in our territory. Then, if we approve, they have to pay us for doing business in Colorado. They started their shit in Pinewood Springs and we took care of them." Hawk leaned back in his chair.
"They don't give a shit about the time-honored rules of MC clubs. All they give a fuck about is making money, getting high, and acting like they're badass." Steel spread his hands out on the table. "I say we strike tomorrow night. If we wait too long, they'll get wind you're all here."
"I agree," said Hawk. He glanced at his brothers. "You?" They all voiced their agreements by nods, grunts, and "yeahs."
"Then we hit them tomorrow night at Teasers-their favorite strip bar. It's a weeknight, so it should be quiet in there. Chaco, Pino, and Stretch have been watching them for a couple weeks. They're pretty predictable. We should have no problem surprising them."
Hawk leaned forward. "What about citizens? Is this strip bar just for bikers? I don't want any citizens getting hurt over this shit we got going with these assholes."
"It's a seedy strip bar on the outskirts of town. The fuckers drove out the citizens and made it their own, so it's basically them."
"Bartenders and barmaids aligned with them?" Throttle asked.
Steel turned to Chaco, gesturing him to answer. He nodded. "Yep. They aren't members of the group, but they are definitely sympathizers."
"We gotta isolate them as soon as we get there. If there are any citizens, we do the same with them. A couple of your brothers can watch them in a back room. We don't want anyone hurt who isn't part of the disrespect. Understood?" Hawk said.
"We're with you on that brother," Steel replied.
"We don't want anyone calling the fuckin' badges either," said Throttle. "We got enough shit going on in Denver."
"Heard about that. Fuck. We were gonna go, but we had some club business that came up. Your guys going down on a murder rap?"
Hawk shrugged. "We got some lawyers trying to make sure that shit doesn't happen. Anyway, Rock and Wheelie didn't shoot the bastard. But we don't want any interference with the badges tomorrow night. We don't have to worry about the Skull Crushers, but the citizens are another story. We gotta watch them."
Steel nodded in agreement. "We shouldn't have a problem with that. There's a back room we can keep them in. Anyway, the badges hate the Skull Crushers as much as we do. Since they came into the county, they've thrown off the balance. There's been a long-time understanding between the badges and our club. They'll overlook some things if we make sure certain shit doesn't go down in their backyard. Keeping crystal and crank outta the county is one, and not beating the shit outta citizens is another. The Skull Crushers have disrupted the flow, and they're looking to us to make it right."
"Hell, if they could, the badges would join us in kicking the fuckers' asses." Chaco chuckled along with the other members.
"Sounds like we pretty much have free reign. Okay, let's decide how this is gonna go down," Hawk said.
The two clubs talked well into the night, strategizing. When they'd finally cemented everything, the members from both clubs walked into a large room. One of the back tables had steaming burritos, enchiladas, tamales, rice, guacamole, and chips. "Eat up and have some fun. Our club whores and hang-arounds love tasting new biker cock," Steel said. "Enjoy."
As Throttle sat at one of the tables, shoveling a forkful of rice in his mouth, a busty, dark-haired beauty cozied up to him. "Aren't you a good-looking man. You wanna have some fun?" She was exactly the type of woman Throttle went for, and pre-Kimber, he'd be sucking and fucking her big tits while he finger-fucked one of the other dark-haired club girls. He wasn't interested anymore. The petite, sassy mechanic had taken down the ripped, arrogant biker. He couldn't imagine it any other way.
"You want me to ask some of my friends to join us?" the woman asked.
He shook his head. "I got a woman."
A tall blonde with legs that went on for miles sat on the chair next to him. "That doesn't seem to bother a lot of the brothers."
Throttle knew some of the brothers like Ruben and Tigger were married, but they both had two hot chicks straddling their laps, their hands roaming over their bodies. Ruben's old lady, Doris, let her man have his fun once in a while, claiming it kept their fourteen-year marriage better than ever. But Tigger's old lady, Sofia, was not into sharing her husband; the only problem was Tigger was always panting over the club whores and hoodrats every chance he got. Sofia was only twenty-four years old, and she was so pretty and fragile that most of the members felt sorry for the way Tigger treated her.
"I'm one of the brothers it does bother." He turned away, dismissing them. All he could think about was Kimber, not easy pussy from a couple of chicks who'd been around the block more times than they could count. They knew the score just like the brothers did. It didn't matter if they were partying in Pinewood Springs or Alina, it was all the same: booze and easy sex.
"You have it bad for Kimber, don't you?" Hawk said as he sat down. Throttle shrugged. "I know you do because you're not even looking at the women in the room." Hawk threw a shot back.
"Fuck. She's all I think about, dude. I never thought I'd feel like this about a woman, but your smart-assed employee grabbed my dick bad."
Nodding, Hawk curled up the corners of his mouth in a wide grin. "You know, I thought I'd be single my whole life. I didn't want to settle down-easy pussy was the way I lived. You were the same. I thought we'd be like Rob and Packer-old but still banging away. Then I met Cara and she fuckin' blew me away. I couldn't even remember why I thought easy pussy was so great." He threw back another shot. "Now you got bit, and after all the shit you gave me about Cara, I gotta say I'm enjoying this."
Throttle chuckled. "I can't believe I'm even having this pansy-assed conversation with you."
"That's the point, man. It feels real good when a woman enters your life. A woman who grabs hold of all of you and takes you on the wildest ride ever. Nothing fuckin' compares to that."
"You're damn right about that."
Hawk stood from the table and clasped Throttle's shoulder. "I'm gonna call Cara and then get some sleep. We got a long twenty-four hours ahead of us." He walked out of the room.
Shortly after Hawk left, Throttle drained his beer and made his way to one of the guest rooms in the club's basement. He stripped off his clothes and lay on the bed, wishing like hell Kimber were there to hold. He closed his eyes and, in a matter of seconds, fell fast asleep.
* * *
Teasers was a small, squat club that sat on a stretch of road five miles away from town. The windows were painted black, and a couple of low-watt lightbulbs hung over the entrance, attracting a swarm of moths that flapped their wings incessantly against them. The loud clash of black metal seeped out from the door cracks. Several Insurgents and Night Rebels positioned themselves at the back exit while the rest of the brothers entered the seedy joint.
Inside, the light was dim, but they could see a bar to one side and a stage at the other. A few tables scattered near a pool table in the back. A large sign on the bar read "Special-Tacos $1.00" in blue magic marker. "War" by Burzum played on the overhead speakers as two women moved around on the stage: one so skinny it looked like her G-string would fall off, the other with a tiny waist and huge fake tits. Under the pulsing black light, she looked grim and worn out as she danced around a pole-badly-and the skinny one looked bored as she swayed, staring at one of the ceiling panels.
The sour smell of the joint mingled with a faint scent of a Febreze-style spray that curled around Throttle's nostrils. He noted the place had all the markings of a dive: worn carpet, cigarette burns, and patched upholstery. His assessment revealed two strippers, one bartender, and one barmaid; the rest of the patrons were Skull Crushers.
A tall man with short, spiked blond hair and two shorter men sporting the same hair color and style walked up to the newly arrived men. Sneers and numerous piercings marked their faces. The name on the tall man's cut read "Hitler," and he also sported a swastika patch and one that said "President." Darting his eyes between Throttle and Hawk, his brows rose when his gaze landed on their "Insurgents" patch. His pale blue eyes darted to Steel, and Throttle swore he noticed a sliver of fear creep into the dirtbag's eyes.