Bed of Roses (6 page)

“Why not intercept when they heist the trucks?” Sandman said, his head cocked to the side.

“We don’t need to make a scene. Things are going to get bloody. The cops are the last people I want to explain to. It’s time they get a taste of who the fuck they are dealing with.”

*****

Three hours passed of strategic planning. A few of the brothers were ex-military, giving them an upper hand on both tactical offense and defense. The Diablos didn’t stand a chance. With half of their forces stationed at the drop-off point, and the other half going in for an ambush at one of the Diablos' clubhouses, they were locked and loaded.

“Movement at the front entrance. Wait for the signal,” Rugger whispered into the radio while he looked out from his spot behind a dumpster in the alleyway. As a patched member and part of the ‘security team’, his training came in handy. Rugger had served in the Marines for over a decade, his training came in handy. The MC had turned his extreme PTSD into a positive asset instead of it being problematic as it had proved in the real world.

“Get ready,” Sandman added.

The four blacked out SUVs pulled up in a row, disappearing behind the huge retractable garage type door as it shut behind them. Tonto and his crew were inside the huge warehouse, waiting until the cargo was revealed. They had discovered crate after crate of weapons not only from their supply but from other clubs as well. The telltale stamp on the one he hovered behind was none other than the Ops…the Devils rivals and the club his half-brother ran. Not many knew why the two clubs had such bad blood running between them. Fork, the Ops VP, had been raised by his rich father and their mother, leaving him and his dad to fend for themselves. When the news came out their mother was pregnant with a bastard son, Fork’s father had insisted she hand over custody before Tonto was even off the tit. Tonto and his dad were left to fend for themselves, living in such poverty the sewer rats had it better. The moment he turned eighteen, Tonto had worked his fingers to the bone up the corporate ladder to save enough money to start the Devils legacy. With the help of his best friends, Chief and Sandman, they had combined their life savings and with the help of state funds, the casino was born. After that, they were able to expand, opening the fight club and other businesses they ran. Between those assets and the funds that came from side security jobs for local businesses, the Devils’ territory was the second largest in the United States with chapters being established up into Canada.

The doors opened and damn near twenty Mexicans piled out. “Cockroaches,” he whispered under his breath. They unloaded the crates out of the back, opening them to reveal their lute—the Devils’ weapon shipment. Tonto passed a glance to his left to Duke, another patched member. He shared the same scowl on his face as Tonto. It was time to show these bastards not to fuck with the Savages. Tonto gave the signal, sending the Devils into action. Before the Diablos knew what hit them, the sound of guns being fired filled the air, dropping their numbers to even the playing field. Sandman, Colt, Rugger, Twelve Gage, Bull, and Duke stepped out into view, encircling them and blocking off any escape route they might have.

Tonto strolled out casually, tomahawk swinging at his side. “Well, well. Look what crawled into our territory with our weapons, boys.”

“
Si
, fuck you,
amigo
. These are ours now. The Diablos are moving in. First we take your guns, your territory, then your bitches,” the short stocky dude who had stepped up as leader drawled in a thick Spanish thug accent. His age along with his banger attitude revealed his status as unessential. Of course the pansy fuckers wouldn’t send anyone of importance to do the dirty work.

“Big words for someone staring death in the eye,
chilito
. Tell me, how does one get such big
cajones
as your non-English speaking muther fuckers call them?” Sandman laughed, calling him a little dick, then making a mental note to castrate the fuck before he killed him.

“Go back to the reservation, Injun, and leave the hard stuff to the pros. You had your land taken once, we’re here to do it again,
punta
.” The little cocksucker's corny Indian reference was far from intimidating.

"We will see who's the pussy in the end," Tonto smirked, then nodded at Sandman, giving him permission to inflict a little incentive on the beaner.

Sandman smiled and stepped forward, folding the Mexican to his knees in one punch. The others tried to come to his aid, only to have the barrel of a gun shoved against the back of their head until their weapons dropped and they froze. Kick after kick Sandman pommeled the guy, stopping every counter with a complex move of his own. He was trained in mixed martial arts, and was one of the best fighters in the country, holding three title belts.

Tonto stopped him after every rib was broke and the man lay gasping and gurgling blood. “Now, care to tell me where your headquarters is located,
punta
? I want to have a little talk with your leader…”

“Fuck you, Injun. I ain’t tellin’ you shit. You think a little blood is gonna get to me? Go to hell.” He crawled to his feet, taking a swing at Sandman. The massive beast laughed, took his blade out, and sliced him from his eye to the edge of his throat. The gash cut through the muscle, fileting it open.

“You scream like a little bitch.” Sandman stepped back, observing his work. It was definitely an improvement. “Now, tell us where your leader is and I’ll kill you quick. If you don’t, I’m going to take my time, making sure you feel every agonizing minute as I skin the brown off your enchilada eating ass.”

“Fuck. You,” he spat, spraying blood with each word.

“I hoped you’d say that.” Sandman stepped up, motioning for two of the Prospects to hold him down. With one swipe, he sliced off the man’s t-shirt, leaving his bare chest and arms open. He started at the man’s wrist and made a long cut up his arm before proceeding to skin the appendage down to the muscles. Screams tore through the air and the others fought to run to his aid, only to be immobilized by the Devils brute strength. As each minute passed, another section of flesh was removed, leaving nothing but a bloody half-dead corpse. Once he passed out from shock, Tonto stepped up, grabbed him by his hair, and scalped him with the tomahawk, tossing the bloody patch of hair and skin at one of the other Diablos' feet. The man puked. He twisted and tugged, desperate to get free, but Rugger’s grip didn’t waver. Instead, he pulled the trigger and splattered brains and bone particles outward, dropping him on top of the scalp.

“Now that I have your attention," Tonto turned, glaring each of them in the eye, "I’m going to ask again. Where is your headquarters?”

“
Chingate
, muthafucka! Diablos ride and die together! You ain’t gettin' shit!” an exceptionally tall dude said. Tonto shrugged his shoulders and sighed.

“I think you mean fuck them," nodding his head in the direction of the other gang members. "If you insist. Clean up the oil slick, boys.” He turned and walked out, the immediate sound of gunfire following him.

Yo Neg couldn’t believe how stupid the Diablos were. He didn’t fuck around, giving the command to kill all but one. The lone man left, singled out for the weakest, due to his wide-eyes and the huge wet spot on the front of his pants. “I’m only going to ask one last time. Tell me where your leader is.” He withdrew a whip out of a metal toolbox he carried and unwound the leather straps. Down each strap were small metal teeth, curved slightly to stick into the skin and rip with each swing. The man’s eyes went wider, and he stepped backwards against the wall.

“I don’t know, man… They don’t tell us nothin'. Our
jefe
is everywhere… See’s everything. He’s the Diablos… You’re all gonna die. No one takes from the Diablos. He’ll rape your daughters and torture your women.”

Bull, a patched member who had been named because the club rats swore he was hung like a bull, busted out in laughter. “Hear that, boys? The Diablos will get us.” He turned to the banger and grinned. “I wanna watch you bleed, boy. And just as you have one foot in the gates of hell, we’re going to leave and let you pass on a message to your
jefe
. Tell him we are coming for him…and when we find him, he is going to eat all of the laced drugs he has been selling on our streets. We’re going to send you all back across the border where you came from and make sure you never step foot in our territory again. This is the beginning of the end for the Diablos, bro. We are going to exterminate you for the cockroaches you are. Armageddon starts here.” He reared back and punched the guy, grinning when his jaw cracked.

“Fuck you,
cabron
!” he mumbled over a broken jaw.

“Naw, fuck you,
curcaracha
.” Bull laughed, calling the scum a cockroach in the little bastard's own language, then stepping out of the way to turn him over to Yo Neg. “He’s all yours, Yo. Show him what happens when you fuck with the Savages.”

“My pleasure.” He turned to the Mexican and grinned. “This may hurt a little.” He pulled his arm back, flicking the whip down against the man’s chest, shredding his clothing and tearing out chunks of meat. Over and over he laid the whip against him, leaving no skin unharmed. When he finally dropped his hand, the man lay in a puddle of his own blood, with the skin hanging off in shreds. He was skinned, appearing more like a cheap log of hamburger from the grocery store rather than human. In some places flesh hung off in two-inch strips, flopping against the concrete floor as the man thrashed in agonizing pain. His face had been attacked so badly one eyeball dangled out of socket, resting against a separated portion of the man’s nose that was now split down the center. His nasal cavity was visible with blood bubbles popping with each desperate breath. Yo Neg dropped a note on top of the now unconscious body and the group left.

Chapter Five

Rose fought with Lacey and Alice, determined not to allow them out of the house. Ariel had informed her of a party going down they were planning to attend despite their pleas of just going to spend the night at a friends. Age-old trick, hell, she wrote the book on that one…and still the girls played her as a fool. “You two are not leaving this damn house and that’s final. If Stacy wants to come over here, fine. Otherwise, babysit your brother and sister. Ariel needs a damn break. While you two go off screwing around, she is the one stuck here to take care of them. The poor kid needs some fun in her life.”

“It’s not my job to raise them! They aren’t my kids. And where the hell are you going, Rose? Following in mom’s footsteps already?” Alice said in a nerve-wracking shriek that set her temper off. Rose took a deep breath, refraining from smacking the shit out of her mouthy teenage sibling.

“Listen to me good, Alice. If you cuss or mouth me one more time, I promise it’ll be the last time you speak without a stutter. I work two fucking jobs to provide for you all. Two. You and Lacey are about to see what work is you ungrateful selfish bitch. You are seventeen years old for shit's sake. It’s about time you two pick up some slack around here and get your heads out of your asses. Now you both are going to stay here tonight and that’s it. Step one foot out of this house and I will break it! I’m done! Get your ass to your room now!” Alice’s jaw dropped, surprised at how Rose had yelled. She had never threatened them or raised her voice even. Rose felt bad, but they were heading down the same road their mom was on and she would be damned if they turned out worthless like her. She was the only one who could make sure they didn’t. Alice and Lacey ran to their room and slammed the door, knocking three pictures off the wall in the process.

Rose let out a growl and picked them up before heading to her own room to get dressed. The longer she stayed in this house the more she contemplated running away. Time and time again she thought about packing up the trash bag of items she owned and haul ass as far as a tank of gas would get her. Unfortunately, someone had to be responsible for them and whether she liked it or not, she was all they had.

Thirty minutes later, she stared at her reflection in the faded mirror and sighed. This was about as good as it was going to get. Her wardrobe was limited, leaving the only thing half ass sexy being a black tank top and jean skirt paired with a pair of black boots so worn they appeared grey. To make up for her lack of apparel, she had curled her long brown locks and swept them over to the side in a loose ponytail just below her ear, allowing it to flow over her left shoulder. Her dark brown eyes were painted with a thick eyeliner and smoky eye shadow, lined with her full thick lashes. Her eyes had always been her favorite feature…so she worked what she had. With a small amount of blush and a deep red lipstick, she couldn’t help but feel like a different person. It was rare for her ever to get an opportunity to dress up. Hell, she hadn’t felt even remotely sexy in so long it was pathetic. Tonight was hers. Life might be waiting in the morning, but tonight she would take whatever she got. Hopefully, something that involved two muscle clad bikers showing her things she couldn’t even fantasize about. Given the girls who poured themselves all over them, the chances weren’t good…but dammit, she was hell bent on trying.

The rev of a motor had her running to the door before Ariel could see the bike parked out front and join her sisters' opinion about her falling into their mother’s footsteps. Thankfully, the girl sat with her feet propped up on the back of the ratty couch blasting heavy hate rock through her headphones and clueless. She waved to her, getting an eye roll and nod. “God, why do I try,” she mumbled as she snatched her purse and keys off the table and flew out the door. The man who waited was one she had seen before, but didn’t know his name. Hopefully, he was there to show her the way and not lead her out to the desert to kill her.
I have to get a new fear. The whole desert death thing is getting old…maybe raped and tossed in a dumpster? Tossed in an old cell and instructed to lotion daily before they turn my skin into a coat? Chopped into little pieces and made into a stew? Oh fuck it. If he is going to kill me so be it. It’d be a relief at this point.
He got off his bike and opened her car door, frowning when it didn’t close and he had to lift it slightly to get it to latch. She didn’t even bother explaining. Her car was a piece of shit and no use denying it—she just prayed it started this time.