Tease: Mojave Boys MC Page 3

  The only real issue they ever had was with the Scorpions, who kept trying to cross borders and encroach on their territory. When it came to protecting what was theirs, violence was law, and neither Vance nor any of his brethren thought twice about taking out one or more of the Scorpions.

  The conversation turned to business, and Vance relaxed. This was better; this was the daily grind and what he expected from his makeshift family. They had some serious issues to take care of, not the least of which consisted of a block the Scorpions were trying to secure against their next shipment of guns. They’d formed a line at the California border, where the Boys usually routed their carriers. They also had men watching the only other road that went around the block and could get someone back to Wheelie, so the driver and caravan couldn’t be rerouted.

  The way Vance saw it, they had two options. They could blow their way through the barricade with lots of bullets, taking out a sizable portion of the entire Scorpion MC, and bring their shipment in via the regularly scheduled route. If they were going to do it though, they had to haul ass and set up a game plan to get at the rival gang without losing any of their own. The shipment would be rolling into Arizona in three days.

  The other option was to spend a lot of time, money, and effort to stop the truck, move the guns to several other nondescript vehicles, and have them driven in innocuously one at a time over the next several weeks. In that process, they would also lose money in sales, unable to traffic out guns they didn’t yet have in their possession.

  They’d discussed both plans of action and still failed to come to a decision, but today was zero hour. They had to move one direction or the other first thing in the morning, or they were out a half million dollar shipment. They couldn’t afford that, no matter how much money they had, stole from other clubs, or taxed the locals for their protection.

  “We can’t just show up with guns blazing,” Tic-Toc threw out there. “The Scorpions are as heavily armed as we are, and they’ve got good aim.”

  “We weren’t planning on an OK Corral style shoot out,” Gaffer growled, lighting up another cigarette with the butt of his first. “We have options. Tell them we want to negotiate, give them a piece of our take. Or we can have a few guys in a car come in, and when the Scorpions check the car, we take them out while another crew rides in to hit the rest.”

  “Ride in from where?” Joe wanted to know. “There’s no tree cover, no buildings. Unless you have some magic bubble that makes us invisible until a bullet pops through it, there’s no way to sneak up on them. I think we should filter in the shipment slowly. It’s safer.”

  Vance shook his head. That wasn’t the solution. “We don’t have that kind of time, and it’s a waste of resources. We’d have to call in a lot of favors to get it done, we shouldn’t use them all up at once.”

  “So many people owe us, we’re golden. We’d barely tap into the favors,” Buckeye argued, laughing. “I think our grandsons will still be cashing in the favors we’ve racked up before they ever start on their own.”

  “Vance is right,” Burt piped up. All eyes turned to him; he’d been the unofficial club president for a while. When Maurice had a heart attack and gave up the club over a year ago, they’d unanimously decided they wouldn’t elect a new president until he passed away. The old codger was still alive and fairly well, living it up in a retirement community in Phoenix. Meanwhile, Burt had taken the responsibility, and the club knew when the time came, it would either be Burt or Vance taking on the role.

  Burt stood up and started to pace. “We offer a truce and a negotiation we have no intention of sticking to. We’ll throw a number out, something believable like fifteen percent. We’ll demand escorts and protection in return, and we’ll pay commission for helping us move the goods. That’ll get their mouths watering, and they’ll agree to talk.

  “We’ll take a full crew to the blockade, ten if not twelve men. We’ll have a signal, and when it’s given, we pull out the trash bags and take out the garbage.”

  Vance nodded. “There will be retaliation.” He didn’t have to say out loud that the reason behind this roadblock had as much to do with his actions toward the Scorpions as it did their greed and desire to control the Mojave Boys’ territory.

  Restless, Vance had taken a long ride out into the desert, and his bike had run out of gas, the gauge reading incorrectly. He’d rolled it to the next gas station, two miles away, and he’d been burning up. He’d been lucky he’d remembered to take water with him, but he just needed gas, air conditioning for a few minutes, and something cold to drink so he could get home.

  Unfortunately, he’d ended up at a station where the owner paid dues to the Scorpions for protection. It had been the first major sign that the gang was moving in on the Boys’ kingdom. Three of the Scorpions had shown up, the owner calling them when he recognized the insignia on Vance’s jacket, and they started to push him around.

  Finding himself in a really bad place, Vance considered his options. He could take an ass whooping and call one of his brothers to bring him some gas while he withered away on the side of the road in the burning sun. That was dangerous because he didn’t know how badly they would mess him up, but if he took it like a man, they would let him live as a sign of respect. He could pay a tax, which would have shown inferiority so he wasn’t about to do anything like that. It wouldn’t just hurt him; it would represent the whole club and put them in a defensive rather than offensive position.

  But Vance wasn’t going to take their bullshit sitting down. He was a fighter, and if the Mojave Boys had taught him nothing else, they had drilled into him that out here, away from the population majority and outside the long arm of government law, they ruled with a heavy hand. Violence was law, and if he had a problem, that was how he needed to handle the situation.

  So Vance had bucked up and done his worst. Acting like he was going to surrender, he’d thrown a swift punch at the first Scorpion to rattle his brain while he drew his gun. He hadn’t aimed to kill; he’d hit one guy in both knees so he couldn’t pursue on foot or by bike, and he’d managed to get another shot off at the third guy. He’d aimed for the guy’s shoulder, wanting to knock the gun from his hand, but the Scorpion had moved, and the bullet had landed square in the heart. He was dead before he hit the floor.

  Vance had turned the gun on the store owner and demanded a full tank of gas. When the first Scorpion moved, rubbing his jaw and reaching for a weapon, Vance had drawn a second pistol, holding it pointed at the guy’s head. “You get on your scooter out there, go back to your club, and take a message that this is Mojave Boys territory, and we’re taking it back. If we find you here again, we’ll take out your men and their families without blinking.”

  Checking out the scene and finding one of his men dead and the other howling in pain, the Scorpion hadn’t hesitated to get out before he ended up in the same condition. Vance waited until he was gone and escorted the owner out to the pump, getting him to put the gas in. When he was done, Vance ushered him back inside and took advantage of the air conditioning while he tied up the howling biker and the store owner. He tore the dead man’s shirt and used it as tourniquets for his knees. “I really don’t want you to die or lose your legs,” he’d groused at the guy. “I didn’t mean to kill your boy.”

  In the grand scheme of things, Vance knew that had been the truth, even if he didn’t mourn the guy’s death. It was one less man to threaten his and his club’s well-being. But between whimpers of pain, the Scorpion in front of him spat, “You’ll pay for this, vato. The Scorpions are bigger and stronger, and we’ll destroy you and everything around you.”

  Angry, Vance had yanked the cloth a bit too tight, and the Scorpion screamed again. “I’d be a little more grateful if I were you. I could just let you bleed to death.” With that, he’d stood, went to the bathroom to wash his hands, and stopped back by the coolers, grabbing a cold soda and a bottle of water. He downed them both, used the restroom again, and headed out to his bike. He
didn’t know how far away the Scorpions were set up, and he had to disappear before more of them came to resolve this situation.

  The club knew about the incident, and they’d had Vance’s back ever since. But the only sign of retaliation was this attempt to intercept their shipment of guns and ammo. It was enough, and Vance knew that if the Boys thwarted this attempt, the Scorpions wouldn’t just turn tail and run.

  “Screw it. We can hold our own against them,” Cougar replied angrily. “Besides, they’re the ones creeping into our turf. They can have the whole southern region of the desert, but they’re greedy. Hitting them hard like this should serve as a warning.”

  “You live in a dream world,” Buddha replied, rubbing his belly like it would tell their fortunes if he coaxed it hard enough. “The Scorpions outnumber us two to one. We’re stronger by sheer will, but we can’t just assume we can handle their numbers. Not anymore.”

  Vance looked around at the small gathering. These were the long term pledge members of the club, the ones who had really brought them into profit. Before, they’d been little more than a gang of unruly hoodlums, making petty money on small jobs. Still, though, the charter members sometimes overestimated their ability to maintain their hold on their territory. Like it or not, it was just as much about politics as it was about firepower and balls.

  He sat up and rested his elbows on his knees. “I’m with Burt. It’s dangerous, but it shows we’re not going to take shit from a bunch of Scorpions who want to play games. As for retaliation, we’ll have to beef up security, watch the borders more carefully. We’ll also have to be more careful on delivery runs.”

  “Kay’s going to shit bricks if I tell her we got Scorpions dogging us everywhere we go,” Tic-Toc groaned. He was one of the few men at this table who had never been disloyal to his old lady. They’d been married for nearly twenty years, and aside from a random distant appreciation for some eye candy, the man was a saint. Vance had to admire that, even if it wasn’t a position he wanted to be in.

  Cougar chuckled derisively. “You are so whipped, Tic. Kay should know better than to give you grief. You know what your problem is? You’ve never put her in her place.”

  Tic-Toc glared at him. “She knows her place, wise ass. It’s at my side, and it’s with our kids, and it’s worrying about whether or not Daddy’s coming home to them.”

  “Not in the MC, it’s not,” Cougar argued. “Your old lady’s place is at home, holding down the domestic front and staying out of club business. You don’t have to tell her shit, Tic. She’s not a member. None of the chicks around here, old ladies or not, should give us grief about how we take care of our own.”

  His tone was vicious, and while Vance didn’t think any of the old ladies should tell them what to do, he didn’t like Cougar’s chauvinist attitude. He stood and gave Cougar a warning look. “We have a rule here, bud. Don’t disrespect anyone’s old lady, regardless of your personal opinion.” He looked at Tic-Toc, who was ready to come out of his seat. The man was so tightly wound he was ready to burst like a time bomb…hence the nickname. “Cool down, Tic. I’ll help you talk to Kay. But this is how it has to be.”

  Burt stepped in, as well. “Maybe we’ll send Kay and the kids to her parents’ house for a week or so until we get this resolved. She’ll feel safer there, won’t she?”

  Tic nodded, but Vance could read his unspoken protest. Even if Kay and the kids were safe, she’d worry about Tic the whole time and be on edge without him. “We’ll figure it out,” Vance said, giving Burt a look that told him they needed to end this conversation and move on. They would circle back around on the matter in private.

  The rest of the meeting focused on putting together the crews that would make the runs. A messenger would ride out to the Scorpions’ encampment, twenty miles south of Wheelie, and deliver the offer. The rival club wouldn’t waste time setting up a meeting, and the Mojave Boys would ride out to the blockade, twelve strong. Vance would be at the head of that group while Burt held down the fort in case the shady gang came in to launch an attack while several of their key members were away.

  With a goal of riding out and destroying the blockade within two days, the meeting broke up, and Vance couldn’t have been more relieved. He needed a drink to calm his nerves. He’d spent most of the club meeting thinking about a completely different meeting tonight. He couldn’t get Maya off his mind, no matter how hard he tried. She was like poison in his veins, eating away at him little by little.

  Even a shot of whiskey couldn’t douse the burning in his blood, and he went out to the back of the bar, entering the shop where several of the guys were working on bikes. He approached Lefty, who had his nose halfway into a gas tank and grease up to his elbows. “Are you replacing the fuel sensor?” he asked, not really caring what his old friend was doing but needing to strike up a conversation that didn’t revolve around women or sex.

  Lefty glanced up at him and went back to work. “The gas cap won’t catch because the hole is stripped, so I’m trying to pop it loose and replace it. The damn thing isn’t cooperating.” He stood up and wiped sweat from his brow with a rag he’d apparently used on oil, leaving a black streak across his forehead. “I’m taking a break and grabbing some fries at the diner. You wanna come?”

  Vance shook his head and laughed. “You better wash up first, or Linda won’t serve you. I doubt she’ll let you in the front door looking like that.” Taking a deep breath and realizing that he wouldn’t get much in the way of a distraction here, he told Lefty, “I’m going to roll my girl in here and check all her vitals. You mind if I use your space?”

  “Have at it. I can work in tight spaces anyway, so no rush.” He wiped his hands and headed for the bathroom, hopefully to scrub up a little, and Vance gazed at the bike. It was Marshall’s, and Marshall was out of town. Lefty wasn’t in any hurry, but he wasn’t lying. Lefty was on the far end of fifty and had been working on these machines since he was an adolescent with his father and uncle. He could work on a bike in a four-by-four cell, if he had to.

  Vance glanced out to where he’d parked and headed over to grab his bike. It never hurt to be prepared, and he didn’t want to get caught in a gunfight with a bike that wasn’t running in top condition.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The sun had just started to slip low on the horizon as Maya padded around the motel room in her birthday suit, having showered but not quite ready to dress. She pulled back a corner of the curtains to watch the colors bleed over the edge of the earth and smiled. You didn’t get sunsets this beautiful in the city, no matter what time of year or which city you were in.

  Wheelie seemed to be full of surprises. She’d eaten the most delicious fresh salad for lunch at the diner, and when she asked where they got the vegetables for it, the owner—Linda—had told her they were brought in daily from a greenhouse about twenty or so miles away. All Maya could think was that it had to be a pretty big greenhouse, considering every biker and whatever family he had seemed to eat here on a regular basis. Linda also assured her the same fresh produce was available at the only market in town, which she hadn’t yet visited.

  The scenery, despite being a desert area, was beautiful. The sand and rock in the distance seemed to sparkle in the sunlight and cast rainbow colors in the air. And now, Maya could watch one of the most gorgeous dusks she’d ever witnessed.

  And all of that came on top of having met Vance.

  He was such a mystery. Maya could catch glimpses of who he was inside by some of the things he said, or the way he moved at times. But he put up a wall that kept her—and likely anyone else—from digging too deep. She wanted to know everything about his past. It had to be tragic, or he wouldn’t be so adamant about his loyalty to his tribe of biker brothers.

  Reluctantly, she’d called her mother before she’d showered. The conversation went much as expected, and Maya had done her best to field the twenty questions her mother threw at her. “I thought you were in Los Angeles.”

  “I’m
on my way there,” Maya had told her. “I decided to drive, and I’m staying at a motel tonight.”

  “A motel?” her mother replied with disgust. “Where exactly are you?”

  Maya didn’t want to tell her the sordid details. “It’s a small town, Mom. And besides, I don’t need five-star accommodations every night. I just need a bed and four walls with a ceiling.”

  “There’s no telling what sort of people stayed there before you, or how well it was cleaned,” her mother argued. Maya couldn’t remember when her mother had become more of a Prima Donna than she was.

  And Maya had a pretty good idea that the Mojave Boys wouldn’t tolerate laziness when it came to the businesses in Wheelie being clean and proper. “It’s not some seedy pay by the hour place, Mom. My standards are higher than that.”

  “Whatever.” Her mother sighed. “Are you eating well? Staying on your diet?”

  Maya had pursed her lips. “I’m eating the same way I always do. You act like I’m trying to lose weight or something. I eat to maintain my appearance and keep my metabolism in line.” Turning the tables, she’d asked, “What about you, Mom? Weren’t you on some cleansing diet?”