Havoc (Los Desperados MC) (20 page)

I slept terribly the night before the big heist. I tossed and turned until one in the morning and then woke up on the hour every hour after that. Pre-heist jitters, I used to get them all the time back when I was green and scared of everything. But they had faded with experience. It made sense they were back now. I was doing something new. I was setting an entire gang up for failure. I was lying to everyone and leading them to a trap.

I felt like I was going to be sick. My stomach was in knots and I could barely string a sentence together. I normally liked a big breakfast before a run but that morning I had barely been able to choke down a piece of toast before giving up. Was I really going to do this? Was I going to set Los Desperados up to be taken out? But what was the alternative? If Los Desperados stayed, they would keep raiding The Bandits and edging in on their territory. They would keep fighting until one of them was destroyed. This maneuver could end the war.

This wasn’t how Los Desperados should go out. To destroy another gang through deception would be a hollow victory, to say the least. Not even I could deny Los Desperados were better than The Bandits. Los Desperados leadership was better, their transport was better, and they had more money and more weapons than The Bandits. Los Desperados was the better gang, but it didn’t matter; they would still be destroyed.

I didn’t really care about Los Desperados. I cared about Julian. He would die today. The thought made me want to cry, scream, and throw up at the same time.
Fair revenge for Paul, though
, some nasty part of my brain thought and that made it even worse. I knew what I was doing. Julian was going to die and, unlike Paul’s death, every death today was going to be intentional and by me. I was killing all of these people.

Julian took the lead. He revved his engine twice and the rest of us revved ours back in response as he started the ride. The trek to Echo Park was slow and leisurely. We were a motorcycle gang, but a well-behaved one. We obeyed the laws. We stayed at or below the speed limit, we used our blinkers, we were polite to pedestrians. We kept our engines low and gave a wide birth to other cars on the road. Kids waved as we passed them.

There were about twenty bikers total: me, Julian, and eighteen of the best men Los Desperados had to offer. I knew some of them. Rick and David were Julian’s life-long friends and then there were other members with wives and children. Was I really going to do this? Was I really going to lead them to slaughter?

That’s what this was going to be: slaughter. Los Desperados would have no warning, no time to think or to plan. They would be waiting for my signal, but it would never come. Instead The Bandits would arrive guns blazing and it would end in a hail of bullets and death. I was leading them into a trap and part of me was railing about how unfair it all was. But what did fair mean anymore? I had been kidnapped and held prisoner by Los Desperados. Paul had been murdered trying to rescue me. I should hate them; I should want to see them destroyed.

But I didn’t. Los Desperados had kidnapped me, but then they had treated me with nothing but respect and kindness. I had been at their mercy. They could have done any number of horrible things to me, but instead they welcomed me and made me family. Paul’s death may have been at Julian’s hand, but it had been an accident and I told Paul to leave. I told him I wanted to stay with Los Desperados and he had come for me. He was going to take me back to The Bandits to face my punishment; Julian had been saving me and this was how I was going to repay him.

My mind kept going back and forth, switching sides every other minute. I wished this were easier. I wished I still hated Los Desperados and Julian, but I didn’t. Tears were forming in my eyes and if there’s one thing bikers don’t do, it’s cry. I lifted the visor off my eyes and let the sharp wind blow my tears away. It stung my eyes and I was grateful for it. I needed to be punished in some way. I needed the pain to help take my mind off what I was about to do.

In front of me was Julian. He was a good driver, as always. He led in a way that no one wanted to challenge him or one up him. They were all just grateful that he was here. They knew he didn’t play favorites or hold grudges; he would be fair and honest and under him hard work would be rewarded. They wanted him to be second in command. There was no anger or resentment, only happiness and congratulations.

As we approached the lot my nausea got worse and my hands were beginning to shake.  I knew The Bandits weren’t here yet. Julian had sent scouts ahead and they had been watching the lot uninterrupted for the last forty-eight hours. If any Bandits were here, we would know about it.

I wondered what their plan would be. Knowing Big Mike, it would be loud and violent. They knew we would be hiding in this lot; how would they handle it? Would they use snipers on top of a truck, or just machine guns to get everything over with as quickly as possible? An image of Julian, his strong body riddled with bullets and blood, splayed out on the weed-strewn lot came to my mind and I shook my head to clear the terrible image away.

Julian didn’t deserve to die like that. He didn’t deserve to die by betrayal. I was going to kill him. It didn’t matter who was holding the gun. I had led him here, like a lamb to the slaughter he had trusted me and this was how I was repaying him. Did he deserve it? He did kidnap me and hold me against my will and chase me down when I tried to escape. But he had also been offering me something better. Not just a better job, but also a better class of man. A tough yet sensitive, perfect man who could be mine and mine alone if I just gave up everything I stood for.

What did I stand for? Julian was right; The Bandits were thieves just as much as Los Desperados. Both gangs lived off of stealing; the only difference was who we stole from and was that any real difference? Julian had pointed out that The Bandits did all the work while it was Los Desperados that really cleaned up. Honor amongst thieves was a myth; I knew that better than anyone. Why did it matter that Los Desperados stole from other gangs?

I saw the large empty lot ahead. Whoever Julian had sent to scout was doing a good job. There was a rough tent over a gnarled and malnourished sapling, but it was torn to shreds and whoever had been staying there was long since gone. Dandelions and other weeds sprung up through the cracks and large holes in the cement. There were maple saplings and weak looking oaks pushing their way to the sky. There were large puddles filled with dirty, fetid water and graffiti and trash everywhere you looked.

Julian stopped first. He held up his right hand in a fist and we all stopped behind him. He removed his helmet and looked around. Taking his time to scan the lot and note every hole and stray piece of trash. Finally he turned around and looked at me and my stomach revolted. The coffee and toast I had eaten did not want to stay down and I had to fight to keep myself from retching. Was this the last time I would ever see Julian? He was sitting astride his bike his helmet in his hands, his eyes serious and determined.
Not Julian,
I begged to any God that would listen.
Please, let him live.

He stood up off his bike and looked at his men and again I was taken aback by how tall and strong he was. Standing in the empty lot, the grey sky above and the cracked cement below he looked like some lone survivor of a war. He looked like a man you would run to if you were in trouble. He looked like a saint and I wondered if I really thought I could do this.

“Daniela, stay with me,” he said, his voice loud and clear. “The rest of you go to you assigned positions and wait for my signal.”

With a nod the lot filled with the roar of motorcycles as Los Desperados went to their hiding spaces. They had come with dark colored tarps and blankets to hide their bikes and themselves. They would be disguised as tents and garbage that the vagrants who stayed here had left behind. It was a good plan. It would have worked, but Big Mike had thought ahead.

Within seconds Julian and I were alone. But I was scared to get off my bike or take my helmet off. I had made a huge mistake and I knew my face would give me away. What I was doing to Los Desperados felt wrong, but I was doing it for The Bandits, shouldn’t that make it right?

“Come here, Daniela,” Julian said and in the tone of his voice would permit no argument.

I took my helmet off and hastily wiped the tears from my eyes. I tried to be discrete and wipe them away with my arm as I lowered my helmet, but Julian was no fool. He would know that something was wrong. My helmet off, I cleared my throat and stepped off my bike and walked towards him. He was ten feet away from me and he watched my every step and the seconds ticked by each one a greater torture than the last.

Who am I? I wondered. What do I stand for? How will I live with myself? I stood in front of Julian. As always he towered above me and when I looked into his face I had to squint against the bright sky behind him. He looked so handsome and strong standing there and tears came again and I held them back as best I could.

Julian took my shoulders in his strong hands. He looked down at me with his green eyes and he said. “Tell me the truth, Daniela. That’s all I ask. I won’t punish you for it and I won’t hate you for it. I’ll understand and I’ll forgive you. If you feel anything towards me at all I ask you to answer this question honestly. Is this a set-up?”

I felt like I had been punched in the gut. It felt like one of those dreams where you’re running late to class and get halfway there only to realize you’re naked. I was bare and exposed before Julian. He had taken such good care of me, he had been so good to me, he had only wanted the best for me and I had repaid him with betrayal.

“One of The Bandits warned me about it during the fight. He told me your loyalty was unquestioned. He said The Bandits knew about the upcoming heist and they knew we would try and take it from them. But then he laughed. He was bleeding from every pore and his face was smashed in, but still he laughed as he told me that Daniela would never help Los Desperados. She was a Bandit through and through and when push came to shove, when it came time to choose, she would choose them. She was a Bandit and would never be anything else.”

My stomach dropped and I wanted to die right then and there. This was all too much; I was torn between love and loyalty. Between what I thought and I knew what really was. I thought I knew Los Desperados, I thought I knew The Bandits, but I knew nothing. I still didn’t know and I still couldn’t bring myself to speak up and say what I wanted.

“I get it,” he said. He was looking me in the eyes and he never looked anywhere else as he continued. “I understand loyalty, Daniela. I understand what it means and what its value is. If you want to side with The Bandits then I will let you go. You can leave on your bike and go your way and we’ll go ours. But you and I will never see each other again.”

A tear slid down my right cheek as I closed my eyes and begged my body to do something to make some sort of movement or action. This wasn’t me. I wasn’t some indecisive chick who couldn’t make up her mind. I was a badass biker who took names and got what she wanted.

I had been ordered to do those things. This was on me and just me. There could be no one else to tell me what to do. No Big Mike screaming in my ear, no Julian stopping me. I needed to decide here and now, once and for all. I needed to make a decision. Either way someone was going to be betrayed, I just needed to choose, Los Desperados or The Bandits. Love or loyalty.

“I love you, Daniela. From the first moment I saw you when you were crouched behind the truck and fighting back even though you knew there was no way you could win. In that moment I looked at you and I thought,
there’s the girl for me, if only she weren’t an enemy.
What’s that line from Romeo and Juliet: my only love sprung from my only hate. I could have killed you that day; I was supposed to kill you on Marco’s orders. But you were so smart when you ran from us and so tough when you kept hitting us even after your truck crashed, I couldn’t do it. You were too rare a creature, I wanted you, and so I kept you. I can’t imagine how hard this has been on you, and I’ll understand if you never forgive me. If you want to get revenge on me for Paul, that’s fine. But that needs to be you and me, not those men out there.”

I was crying now. Big stupid tears were cascading down my cheeks, but I couldn't wipe them away, my hands were still trapped by Julian’s. I wanted to, though. I hadn’t cried like this in years and I had never cried like this in front of anyone else.

The words Julian was saying were my words and his feelings were my feelings. He loved and wanted me from the moment we met and I felt the same way. I had never felt so strongly about anyone before. I had only known Julian for a month, and I had spent most of that time hating him, but I still loved him more than I had ever loved Paul.

“I want you to stay with me and Los Desperados. It’s all I ever wanted. But I need to know I can trust you and depend on you. So here it is, Daniela. It’s up to you. If you say this isn’t a setup then we’ll stay here, and deal with whatever comes. But if you tell me it’s a setup then I’ll understand your hesitation and I’ll forgive you for not telling me. So?”

Judgment day. I closed my eyes and thought. I had been faced with tough decisions before, but it had always been on a run. Take the exit or stay on the freeway, speed up to save time or go the limit and avoid any cop. But I never thought too hard about those decisions, they were life or death, but I just made them in the moment. So here was the moment, I kept my eyes closed told both my brain and my heart to shut up and listened to my gut.

“Get your men and follow me,” I said turning away from him. I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t. It might make me a traitor or a rat, then so be it. The Bandits would never forgive me and this might be the end of them, but it wasn’t my problem anymore. I couldn’t kill Julian. I chose him.

I once read somewhere a thing about traditions and rituals in a book. They were dangerous the author said. Rituals and traditions started as a way to define yourself, but if you weren’t careful they could become a trap. He said you couldn’t let rituals define you because then they controlled you. Loyalty oaths, blood oaths, promises, a bikers life was filled with rituals. But was only now, as I walked away from Julian that I finally understood it.

Rituals were a form of control. Take this oath on your life; swear it with your blood. It gave a substance to your words, they weren’t empty anymore, and your literal life depended on you keeping your promises. That’s how it worked: swear this oath to me and if you break it, I’ll kill you. There’s a threat behind oaths that we never talk about.

I didn’t want to be controlled; I wanted to be in control. I loved Julian and I felt at home in Los Desperados in a way I never did with The Bandits. I had made my oaths to The Bandits and they had meant something to me once, but I couldn’t let them control my life. It was unfair to me that I was held in chains by promises I made when I was a desperate and homeless eighteen year old. The Bandits had given me a chance, but I was the one who had to fight tooth and nail for it. I had done the work, I had passed all the tests, and I had proven myself.

I wasn’t a desperate teenager anymore. I was a strong, confident, talented woman and I would go where I wanted and be with whomever I wanted and if The Bandits didn’t like it? Well, I was done being controlled by them.

I heard Julian give out a loud signal and within seconds the twenty men from Los Desperados we had brought with us were back on their bikes and falling into formation. But Julian wasn’t the lead this time. I was.

I needed to finish this. If we took this heist from The Bandits they would be out of money and they would need to get back to their real business. They wouldn’t be able to afford a war anymore. It was certainly one way to end things. I revved my engine twice and the rest of Los Desperados revved theirs once and I drove out into the street and made my way towards the exit to the freeway.

Joey, Jeff, or Jamie had told me that the truck would break down roughly thirty miles into the trip. I knew where that was. I hadn’t been able to help myself and I had plotted it out on a map last night when I couldn’t sleep. I followed the road with my fingers, up and down hills and over bridges from it’s starting place to it’s final destination.

The thing is, I’m really good at my job. The Bandits were lost without me. The truck was meant to break down one mile off the exit ramp. And that was where The Bandits would be waiting. But I was betting my life, Julian’s life, and the life of everyone behind me that The Bandits hadn’t bothered to look at a topographical map. In fact, before I brought one in, none of The Bandits even knew what that was. But I knew. It showed hills and valleys and waterways. Seems unimportant if you plan to stick to the road, but this is what separates good drivers from great drivers.

The topographical map showed that the exit was on a pretty steep decline; the grade was about twelve percent. So even if the engine was set to shut down at thirty miles into the trip the driver would still have a decent amount of built up kinetic energy and they would be able to coast pretty far down the hill before the truck finally lost it’s momentum.

To make a long story short, The Bandits were about four miles from where they should be.