Silver Runners MC

Danger

Darkness had finally fallen in Augusta, and the Raging Bastards' Clubhouse was alive with activity. We watched behind the cover of the forest as the men loaded up two black vans and one monster four-wheel drive truck.

Our bikes and trucks were almost half a mile south down the only road that lead away from the clubhouse. Two of our prospects, Red and Spider, were back at the vehicles, waiting for our call to stay put or create a diversion.

We all held our breaths when the club members started getting into the vehicles around 10:30pm. It was almost time. Do or die.

"On your signal, Trace." Wolf whispered, his eyes tense on the clubhouse through his binoculars. We had been silent for almost an hour.

"How soon can we get to the prospects?" I whispered back, my adrenaline beginning to make my hands shake.

"If we leave now, 5 minutes tops." Trace whispered, moving a tree branch out of his face as he peered at a large man taking the driver's seat of a black van. "Son of a b***h. He's here. Motherfucker!"

My body vibrated with excited nerves at that information. Rage was here, and not back home hunting Rilyn. I could get my hands on him.

"Where's Shooter?" Wolf asked, his binoculars scoping all of the men. Shooter was the Raging Bastard's President and from what rumor had it, one mean asshole. He'd kill anyone in his way, anyone who saw something they shouldn't; whether it be an old man, woman, or child. I loathed him almost as Rage.

"There!" Diablo whispered loudly, pointing to the driver of the large black jacked-up truck.

Trace growled, his straight teeth showing bright in the darkness. "He's mine."

Wolf and I stared at each other behind his back, surprised at the venom in Trace's voice.

"Cut off the head of the snake, boys, and the body will die, slowly. But it will die." Trace whispered, standing up, adjusting his cut over his leather jacket and starting the trek through the thick woods back to the prospects and our vehicles.

We heard him yell out, "make the call, Wes."

Wes, Cowboy, Twitch, and Diablo immediately followed suit, stepping on their tip toes to avoid too much commotion in the fallen leaves. Wes whipped out his cell phone, his long dark hair glowing in the light of his cell phone.

I lingered back, walking shoulder to shoulder with Wolf.

"How's this gonna play out?" I asked him, Pulling my beanie over my brow and tucking the hair of my long mohawk into it.

Wolf snorted. "You're going to fall back and let me have at Rage."

"Hope that was a joke because you and I both know that ain't happening." I growled lowly in response.

Wolf rolled his eyes, shaking his head. "Fine. I'll get on my Night Rod and create the distraction as they're pulling onto the street. I could use the rush." He stopped, putting his hand on my chest to halt me. "But if you let me get run over, Rilyn will rip out your guts." His eyes danced with amusement as he began walking again.

I smiled to myself. He was probably right. But this meant that whoever got out of those vehicles would be mine for the beating.

We reached the prospects quickly. Red and Spider were off in a clearing to the right of the road. The Runners' large blacked out van was barely visible in the darkness. Red, a 6'6" son of a b***h ex-marine, had his sniper rifle propped up on top of the driver's door, his eyes already focused on the road. Spider was doling out pieces and ammo for Cowboy, Diablo, and Twitch. Wes was over near the five bikes we had brought on the ride up. The engines were idling, our means for a quick escape when needed. Wes stood with one semi-automatic rifle in each hand, looking like a deranged scar face.

Trace called us into a huddle. "Here's the plan, and it's the stupidest one we've ever done. Wolf will make sure they don't get passed us. Then we ambush." Trace paused dramatically.

"Just like that? Start shooting?" Twitch, asked, cracking his tattooed neck and bouncing on his toes in excitement. He could never stop fidgeting.

"Yes. I'll go after Shooter. Angel, take out Rage." Trace's green eyes practically glowed in the dark. "I don't care what you do, but make that motherfucker pay." I smiled at him, cracking my fists together. I had brass knuckles on both hands, my switchblade in my belt and a Smith & Wesson .500 tucked into my pants. I was packing heat and it was about to get bloody.

"Cowboy and Diablo, corner them in with gunfire so they can't get shots off on us. Wes, don't let them near the vehicles or our fuckin' heads. Spider, hide out until it's clear and then grab the drugs and get the van going. Red, snipe these fuckers. And Wolf," Trace turned to look at Wolf, who was already on his bike, ready to start it, dart out, and sacrifice himself like roadkill. "Don't get killed."

Wolf grinned like a psycho, nodding his head up and down quickly.

"I see headlights!" Red called down to us, shucking a bullet into the barrel of his rifle. I ran across the road, crouching down in the tree line. The road was lined with thick brush, stopping about ten feet back from the road. The property behind the trees was caged in with a huge barbed wire fence. There was no place to run, no place to hide.

Headlights flashed spastically, the enemy's truck and vans speeding and weaving haphazardly on the dirt road. They weren't expecting any of this. I grinned at what was to come.

When they were about 20 feet from our clearing, Trace screamed "GO!" And Wolf raced his bike onto the dirt road. The leading van immediately swerved, hitting the dirt bank closest to me. The second van hit Wolf straight on, his body flying back off the Harley and into a huge cloud of dust in the middle of the road. s**t. The black monster truck slammed on its breaks, the squealing sound was deafening as it's passengers quickly opened the doors for cover. Immediate gunfire erupted as they started taking shots at us.

Red's sniper rifle was loud and continuous. I ran towards the van closest to me, grabbing a skinny man with long curly blonde hair, unsuspecting, in the driver's seat. I started pounding on his face, catching him completely off guard. I dragged his body towards the wood line, to avoid sight and any path of bullets. My fists blurred as I f*****g beat the guy's face in. The brass knuckles stung my hands. The skinny man sputtered blood from his mouth, his eyes rolling back into his head. He passed out quicker than I thought he would.

I reached into the back of my pants for my Smith & Wesson, squinting in the flashing dark. Trace was exchanging punches with a stocky, bald man from the truck, who I assumed was Shooter. They looked like they were in a boxing match, hitting each other blow for blow.

I took a few shots at the passengers of the other vehicles farther from me. One or two men returned fire, but Red was shooting bullets like lightning. I saw at least three dead Bastard bodies. Spider and Cowboy were running armfuls of drugs to the open doors of our van. Wes was carving his hunting knife into some fat man's face, directly in the middle of the road.

Wolf was still laying in the road up ahead of the scene, struggling to duck for cover. He was barely able to move. Time seemed to slow as I watched a tall, muscular man with short dark hair walk over towards Wolf's body. The man's heavy boot came down on my VP's face, Wolf's hair flying everywhere as the back of his head hit the road hard with a sickening thud.

"If it isn't the big bad Wolf. You p***y, shouldn't you be trying to get in my girl's pants tonight?" The man's voice was livid, his chest huffing as he pointed a gun directly at Wolf's face. Rage.

Wolf gave Rage a bloody, weak smile, his eyes connecting with mine in the darkness.

"Actually motherfucker, that would be me!" I shouted, taking my switch blade from my waistband and slashing Rage in the arm as I jumped him. The sounds of leather tearing and shots still being fired was loud around us.

Rage turned in a defensive stance, his face livid. "Oooh, you must be the little Angel I've been hearing about? You want to fight with us big dogs, boy?" Rage gave out a bark as he tried tackling me to the ground, but I turned my body just in time, getting the upper hand. My gun flew from my grasp. Rage landed hard near the ditch on his back. I began taking blows to his head. He blocked most of them, laughing like I was amusing to him. His black eyes were wild and crazy. I'd never seen anything like them.

"Y'know, Rilyn's more of a top, too." He sneered. I growled in anger, stabbing my blade into his right shoulder, hard. I was met with a satisfying "squishing" sound. Where the f**k did my gun go?

"You're never going to touch her again!" I screamed, my hands wrapping around his throat. My gun lay at my side a few feet away, and I debated jumping for it.

"Oh, I'll touch her alright." Rage choked out, his black eyes sparkling and intense on mine. His hands came up to my face, scratching at whatever skin he could get to. "I'll touch her before I f*****g kill her."

His words momentarily surprised me and he bucked me off him, climbing on top of me and laying wicked right hooks into my jaw. I reached again for my gun, using my left hand. My right hand sparatically rained hits on the sides of his head, the brass knuckles leaving little cuts on his angry face.

"You won't ever touch her, boy. I will kill her before I let anyone else have her." My fingers wrapped around the smooth barrel of my gun. I tried lifting it slyly, but Shooter was suddenly over me, his boots crunching down on my left hand. I roared at the sounds of my bones cracking. I took half a second to look around, noticing Trace and Diablo dragging Wolf's limp body into the back of the van. Spider had grabbed Wolf's ruined bike, loading it quickly in the van with Twitch's help. Wes took off on his bike. Cowboy was screaming for me to come the f**k on, his Ducati bike idling next to mine.

It was time to kill this asshole, or be taken down by the Raging Bastards.

Shooter had Rage by the shoulders, trying to tug him off me. Rage continued his assault, his fists hitting my stomach, kidneys, and ribs.

"Come the f**k on Rage! They're taking our drugs! I need to make some phone calls! Grizz! Cherokee! You better still be alive." Shooter screamed, pointing his gun at our van and retreating. He fired rapidly as Trace and Diablo ducked for cover.

"Angel!" Trace roared out to me, concern ringing out clear into the still night. The rest of the Raging Bastards had retreated. Rage and I were the only ones left scrapping.

I used all my strength to throw a wicked right punch to Rage's throat, the steel of the brass knuckles biting into my good hand. Rage was taken aback, momentarily stunned in pain. I took the opportunity to kick him off of me, reaching for my gun, my mind screaming at me to take a shot at him. I took off in a sprint to my bike, pulling the throttle full force. I rocketed down the dirt road. Cowboy and Trace were right behind me on their own bikes. Our van quickly followed suit, Red driving like a crazy motherfucker with Diablo, Spider, Twitch, and Wolf in the back. My left hand throbbed in pain. I swear I could hear Rage's laughter ring out after us.

One thing was for certain: Rilyn was in a hell of a lot of danger.