What happens when it’s my child?
Things started to shift into place. Pieces of a puzzle that I never knew were there were moving around in my head, changing configurations and bringing half-thoughts to the surface, fleshing it all out into a coherent picture…
I have to give up the Devil’s Dragons.
The resolution came clear as daylight to me, and the force of it almost cost me my balance on my motorcycle.
It made perfect sense.
I’d thrown myself headlong into building up this gang, and forming my little alliance in the desert, but now there was more to worry about.
I had a fucking family on the way.
The Devil’s Dragons needed more than I could offer them. Even before I had this new set of circumstances thrust upon me, I had been leading them astray… sending them careening towards danger.
If things didn’t change soon, I was eventually going to get my entire little band of heroic mercenaries killed, one way or another.
I felt a weight lift off of my shoulders.
There needs to be a change in leadership.
My focus cleared. I could think straighter now, concentrate on what really needed to be done. I wasn’t clouded by judgment, restrained by appearances, or locked by necessity.
I was going to save Sarah Buchanan, ensure the livelihood of my heir, and then I was going to give up leadership of the Devil’s Dragons to whoever rose to take the mantle.
But it didn’t matter, because I already knew how the pieces would move. After all, the rest of the club respected and loved him, too. What better candidate than my trusted second-in-command, Grizz?
I glanced over at him while we hit a rolling ascent. His pale, otherworldly eyes remained focused forward, but he briefly turned to acknowledge me before concentrating on the road.
Grizz had been a damned blessing.
The biker had come into my club years ago, not long after we had been crippled by betrayal. He practically wandered into our club off of the street, a forlorn, quiet, and methodical biker with uncanny aim and a heavy biblical streak.
Grizz had taken to us almost immediately, and particularly displayed support for me. Without his presence, I might have never risen to take over the scattered, damaged club.
It was his authority and backing that allowed me to pull the motorcycle club back together, steer us away from the damaging trades that had fueled their coffers before, and rise to carve out our own niche in the dried, arid crags.
And from then, I was able to start building upon my wicked predecessor’s ambitions, taking his dream of uniting the criminal underworld of the desert towards power consolidation and guide it to something better…
I built a small but powerful alliance of biker clubs, criminals, and thugs. With Grizz at my back and the rest of my club behind me, I’d laid down the foundation to form temporary treaties, unify supply lines, thwart rampant in-fighting, and begin consolidating a real force of good out here…
Of course, the Outlaws were all still criminals at the end of the day. But when a worse threat showed up, I could count on them to unite – at a price – to help kick ass.
Not this time, though…
The sun was already setting as we came closer to our destination. I’d originally been a little off the mark with how long we’d be off the Interstate, but we were edging closer and closer to the rendezvous point.
If Talon’s word had been right, and the tracker he’d left in my hands held true, then we were still going to beat Sarkonov’s proxy here, to this little arid landing up in the hills…
His coordinates brought us to a suspicious area, partly up the side of a mountain. It was the husk of a destroyed armory of some sort, or maybe even a church. Only the sides remained, battered and ruptured brick walls that formed a circle around the area.
Functionally, it was two rings of walling, one inside the other. Stairs and shattered windows meant that I could direct my men to tactical positions with cover along the inner circle, although the falling night would limit our continued effectiveness.
The ceiling was long gone, and the floor had been long covered with windswept sand. Another problem represented itself rather quickly – our vehicles were all sitting ducks out here, indications that the place was stocked to the brim with armed bikers.
“What should we do?” Grizz asked, killing his engine next to mine and gazing over the sight of the dilapidated building.
“Working on it,” I grunted, gazing along the terrain. In every direction besides directly ahead and behind, the world was completely flat. I wasn’t sure how much further up the mountain this trail would take us, and it was soon going to shrink down to two bikers, side by side, and then single file…
“Ricochet,” I called loudly upon one of my bikers. He pulled forward near me, and I pointed through the building. It would be easy enough to rocket through without any trouble. “Scout ahead. See if there’s a place to stow away our vehicles.”
“Aye aye, boss,” he nodded.
Six minutes later, he came back through the shattered building, pulling to a stop before me. “There’re a couple of abandoned houses up ahead. It’ll be a tight fit, but there’s probably enough room to hide the bikes that way.”
“Good man,” I acknowledged. “Lead the way.”
Our assembled forces drove to the dilapidated structures he found. We rolled through a wall that had partially collapsed, knocking down our kickstands in what used to be someone’s living room before killing our engines. My entire motorcycle club descended behind me, suited up to prepare for whatever was coming our way.
Grizz and I directed them to take tactical positions along the outer parameter of the inner ring to the destroyed outpost.
And then we waited.
The stars were fully out by the time that we spotted the large truck with a large storage container on the back, cruising up the mountainside towards us. With our vantage point, we were well prepared for the coming battle against Sarkonov’s proxy – one that we hoped would be a quick and decisive one given our access to military grade weaponry.
The fucker had taken Sarah.
Now, we were ready for payback.
It was fifteen minutes or so before the storage truck finally met our position. It came to a halt within the circle, just as we had anticipated, and a shadowy figure descended from the vehicle and opened up some kind of a small, secret hatch on the side of the container.
After punching what seemed to be some sort of code, the figure walked over to the back of the storage container, unlocking and opening it up. The stranger jumped in and, seconds later, was pulling a woman out and onto the ground.
It was Sarah.
“Hold your fire,” I signaled.
Several of my bikers passed the order down the line with quiet motions, and I quietly crept down to leave my tactical position.
This was the point of no return.
The figure had planted Sarah up against the side of the truck and was quickly and deftly binding her up and against the side of the vehicle.
A bit overkill, but sure.
Sarah’s gaze was locked against the ground, and I was almost happy to see it. If she’d looked up and given me away, the proxy might have dispensed of her, there and then.
I was going to get the drop on my mystery opponent. I raised my weapon…
Suddenly, the proxy paused, listening to the air. I cocked my weapon, and the figure darted around the side of the truck.
“Fuck!” I snarled.
The proxy knew that it was a trap.
“I know that you’re here!” I called out. “Show yourself! Or are you too chicken without Soroka Sarkonov to hide behind,
you fucking coward?”
Fuck hiding in the shadows. I stepped forward toward Sarah, crossing the distance between us quickly, and only stopping when I heard the sounds of crunching dirt beneath boots.
That’s right, I growled in my head, trying to see my opponent. Step out and face me, and drop to the ground when my men have a solid visual…
I don’t know what I expected, but my jaw practically hit the goddamn dirt when my older sister stepped out from behind the storage unit, a dark smirk on her face and a gun pointed right at Sarah’s face.
“Hey, little brother. Fancy meeting you here...”
Hunter
Struggling to keep it together, I narrowed my eyes and calmed down my heaving chest. It took everything I had to maintain my fucking composure as my brain fought the goddamn truth that stared me in the eyes.
Sarkonov’s proxy is my fucking SISTER?
Talon had to know.
That stupid fucking bastard had sent me all the way out here to kill my own goddamn sister.
“Hunter,” the woman I had changed my entire life to save called out to me. “I should be surprised that you found us but, for some reason, I’m really not.”
“And why is that?” I asked loudly, trying to keep her attention on me. She wasn’t making any moves to hurt or threaten Sarah, so I maintained my cautious approach. Quietly, I hoped that engaging her in dialogue would keep my men from firing while I tried to get answers.
“Because you’re a resourceful bastard. Admiration entered Hannah’s voice. “That’s why I needed to get you involved in this. I needed your help getting this container back…”
“All in a day’s work,” I replied with more than a little sarcasm in my voice. “Now tell me what the fuck is going on.”
I was close enough to read Sarah’s face in the moonlight… a few more good strides, and I could try to figure out how to remove her from the storage container.
The problem was, naturally, getting that close without Sarah losing her head in the process. I liked to think my sister wouldn’t shoot her, but she was apparently just full of surprises…