AllFreeNovel
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They’ve been a fucking menace to all of us. In the past, mechanics used to be trustworthy. They’d help us out with bike parts and custom repairs, and we’d pay them a pretty penny and send more customers their way. It was a win-win situation. We’d facilitate certain processes with the IRS or the local government, and they’d keep an eye out for us—new rogue bikers coming into town, gang activities, rival clubs chattering about a hit here or there. There was a time when the mechanics were our eyes and ears in and around Orange County.
Nowadays, however, they seem to have turned into snitches, exclusive snitches for the Devils. I think Colton knew exactly what he was riding into when he crossed state lines and decided to make a new home here.
“It’s a tragedy when you can’t trust your own mechanic,” I say.
“We should pay Medina a visit after we speak to Lucius,” Orion suggests.
I’m inclined to agree.
Once we get on our bikes, we ride south.
The skies are blue and clear, and the sun is up and gleaming. Everything about this day is meant to be a good omen, but my instincts are flared up. My nerves are wound tightly as I grip the handlebars and steer my bike along a wide curve leading toward the freeway. Orion rides first, while Drake has my flank.
Constantly checking my mirrors, I don’t see anything out of place.
Yet the hairs on the back of my neck are stiff as I give my hog an extra kick and increase my speed, the wind blowing in my face. Behind us, a familiar sound emerges—other motorcycles. But they’re not Harleys, like ours.
They’re sport touring cycles.
I check the mirrors again.
At first glance, I count six speed bikes. Judging by the sound of their engines, these are big girls, with at least 1000ccs each and plenty of horsepower. They are black and red, each painted similarly, a custom job. My stomach tightens as the color scheme creates several connections in the back of my head.
The road ahead is about to melt into the San Diego Freeway. This last stretch is empty, though, with nothing but dirt and dry shrubs on both sides.
The bikes roar, getting closer.
Too close, too fast.
They’re aggressive in their approach, and it only takes a couple of seconds for me to realize what’s about to happen, so I pump my bike hard until Orion hears it. He looks over his shoulder, and I can tell that he understands. Drake is also accelerating, riding alongside me while our pursuers shorten the distance between us.
We know where this ends if our reflexes aren’t sharp enough.
The speed bikes reach us and surround us, constantly revving their engines in an intimidating manner. The riders are clad in black leather, comic-book-style red demons glinting on their helmets as they swerve closer and closer.
“They’re trying to box us in!” I shout.
But Orion goes faster and gets ahead of the group. I know this maneuver all too well, and so does Drake. These fuckers may have potent bikes, but we’ve got massive hogs between our legs. The crash bars alone are enough to knock them off their game, and we’re not afraid to use them.
One of them tries to inch even closer, foot gradually extending to try and kick my side.
I let my Harley swing toward him. As soon as he sees the beast leaning into him, he slows down by a single hair, just enough to save his ass. It’s the opportunity I need to take my gun out and point it at them. They shout something and rev their engines even louder, so I fire a warning shot in the air.
Their speed bikes snarl, but they dare not come closer.
Instead, they go around and dart forward, quick to melt into the freeway traffic while Orion, Drake, and I pull over. I’m shaken to the core, understanding how close we came to a skirmish—the kind that might’ve ended with our entrails spread along the side of the highway.
We may not be the devilish kids we were when we rode our first hogs, but we’re not to be messed with. I hope they got that message loud and clear. Colton might be younger and bolder, an avid risk-taker, but there’s a reason why we’ve survived for so long in a game where you rarely get to hit your forties, in the first place.
Drake hisses as he takes his helmet off. “Colton is teasing the leadership directly. That’s fucking bold.”
“He’s sending us a message,” Orion adds, running a hand through his black hair. “Any day, now, he’ll be coming, guns blazing.”
“Colton is trying to throw us off our game,” I reply. “We need to shake these tails before we meet up with Lucius. We can’t risk exposing him.”
Orion is already on his phone, texting the man. “Yeah, he’s been made aware,” he mutters, waiting for a reply. “He changed the meeting location. Arby’s. The one near Dana Point.”
Hopefully, we make it that far. Every day seems to be like Russian roulette for us: Either we survive it, or we don’t. Colton Harrow seems determined to shatter our nerves before he comes gunning for us. I wonder if he knows our history and our ability to obliterate any adversary if we have to.
