Havoc (Los Desperados MC) (2 page)

I watched this documentary once when it was late at night and I couldn’t sleep. I was flicking through the channels and not really looking for anything in particular when a nature documentary caught my eye. I stopped channel surfing and gazed upon a pack of lionesses stalking a herd of antelope, preparing for the kill. Watching them work was riveting. Their attack was perfectly coordinated; they started in a single file line and then, in turns, pairs would veer off and around as they surrounded their prey. Meanwhile the antelope nibbled on the grass under blue skies completely unaware. And then the attack came and the lionesses working off of some unknown signal converged on the weakest animals and took them down in seconds.

Los Desperados were good, very good. But I was no antelope and I was not unaware. I was ready. Through my rearview mirrors I could only see some of what Los Desperados were doing, but it was much the same as the lionesses. From my side mirrors I could see them as they fanned out and tired to encircle the big rig and me. They were all wearing black helmets with the visors pulled down over their eyes; they all had black leather jackets on. There was no telling one from the other, no way to identify them; they were a swarm coming for me.

My heart was pounding, pushing blood and oxygen through my body and I was scared, but I wasn’t stupid. If they wanted this truck, they were going to have to fight to the death for it. This was my truck, my haul and I wasn’t letting a bunch of roadside thieves take it from me without a fight.  I had been on the other side of this game; I knew they were trying to force me off the road. Their plan was to encircle the truck and push it to the side of the road so they could get at its inside. They’d expect me to speed up and try to get away from them and, in speeding up, lose my control. But there was no way this rig could outrun a motorcycle, let alone thirty of them.  I watched them as I continued to drive. I could hear them shouting to each other and getting the other members riled up and ready for a fight. They were gonna get a fight, all right.

They wanted me to speed up, but I was not in the business of doing what people expected. So instead of speeding up I shifted the truck into neutral and my foot pressed down on the shift pedal until it hit the floor and, as I slowed down, I jerked the wheel to the left and suddenly I was on the wrong side of the road. The good bikers who were on my left scattered quickly, hopping up onto the sidewalk or falling back; a handful weren’t so good and I couldn’t help but laugh as I saw their bikes go skidding off the road.

Still coasting in neutral, I made it look like I was going to go right, but it was only for a moment and I swerved left again, sending the remaining bikers back or skidding out. I could see the black helmets and face masks of the other bikers as they gained on me coming up the right side. They were playing right into my trap and there were about seven of them on the right, far too many bikes in a tight space at a high speed. They’d fallen right into my trap. One was driving parallel with me and I could see him turn his head to look at me. I smiled at him, a wicked smile, before jerking the wheel to the right and traveling all the way over to the other side of the street, pushing the bikers back and sending them careening into trash cans and cars.

“Come on, baby,” I whispered to the truck as I popped it back into third and released the clutch. She shuddered beneath me and there was one heart-pounding minute when I thought she wouldn’t make it, that the engine was going to crap out on me. I was losing speed and the truck was rumbling and groaning beneath me and then she got her groove and fell into gear and then I accelerated, going from third gear to fourth as I rushed through LA.

Pawnshops and liquor stores and jewelers raced past me as I continued to where I knew my warehouse was. The bad news was I still had about ten miles to go. I might still make it, but I needed to lose these bikers before someone called the cops and we were all screwed.

“Fucking Los Desperados,” I hissed as I looked in the rearview mirror. The thieves hadn’t given up yet. They were regrouping and signaling to each other and I could still see them in my mirrors and I could hear the roar of their engines as they picked up their pace to match my speed. They were coming for me and no matter how fast I went, the rig would never outrace them.

I needed to think, to be smarter than them. What should I do? I couldn’t outrun them. I couldn’t beat them in a fight. I needed to lose them. I knew these roads. I knew them better than anyone, and losing the bikers on them was my only shot. Without using my blinkers I waited until the last possible second and made a hard right onto the first street I saw. I made a left and then another right as I zigzagged my way down the streets, speeding down empty alleys and cutting through parking lots. But the bikers were like a swarm of dogs with the scent and I couldn’t lose them.

Then I heard it, a loud bang that was louder than the roar of the bikes. I couldn’t help it. I jumped and, as I gasped, jerked the wheel to the left, but instead of fighting it, I leaned into it and sent the bikers on that side scattering. Then another boom and I could see the rider with the sawed-off shotgun. He was staying behind me and out of my reach. No matter how much I swerved the truck I couldn’t hit him. There were two more loud shots and then I figured out he was shooting at my tires. If I lost a tire, I would be straight up fucked. I hit the clutch and slammed on the brakes and I heard booms as bikers hit the truck and a few glanced back at their fallen brothers as they raced past me. I pushed the truck back into second and made another hard right onto a small side street.

I couldn’t see the bikers anywhere; they weren’t in my mirrors or in front of me. Had I lost them? I hit the gas and raced down the street heading for the warehouse. I was far from any residential areas and the only buildings around me were warehouses and closed gas stations.
Holy shit
, I thought.
I might actually make it, just wait until the boys back the clubhouse hear about this. A whole pack of Los Desperados on my tail and I escaped free and clear.

Then I heard another boom and the truck veered hard. I held the wheel tightly as I tried to get control. But it didn’t matter; I could feel that I’d lost a front left tire. I hit the gas and pushed the truck into a higher gear. I still had other tires and hoped that if I gunned it maybe I could still make it. I wasn’t far from home and safety. I was so close. I only needed to go another couple of miles and then I would have made it. But the dogs of Los Desperados were on me again; they’d surrounded me and I couldn’t veer into them this time or I would lose control of the truck. No! I couldn’t go down like this. I had worked so hard and had so many successful runs. I was not going to be outdone by Los Desperados.

I hit the gas harder, but the bikes were right on top of me and I didn’t see the pothole until it was too late. Thanks to budget cuts, the roads in that neighborhood were utter shit. The truck bounced violently when I hit the pothole and I felt myself bounce up and down as my seatbelt pinned me to the bench. Another loud boom rung out and with my hands firmly on the wheel I tried desperately to get control, but it was too late. I was off the road and then everything got loud and painful as the truck slammed into a tree.

Everything was spinning and I couldn’t catch my breath. The world in front of me was a hazy mess and my chest and shoulders were aching from the strap of the seat belt. I was gasping and heaving for breath, but it was still not enough. Was I dying? I looked down and did a quick check to make sure all of my limbs were intact and I didn’t see any blood. My head was pounding, but slowly I could feel myself catching my breath as the world stopped spinning and came into a sharp focus. I could see the splintered remains of the tree I hit and a sparse looking empty field behind it. The hit knocked the wind out of me, but I wasn’t done yet. I reached under my seat and felt the shotgun I kept hidden there. I grabbed the box of shells from the glove compartment and unbuckled my seatbelt; I moved quickly and tried not to draw attention to myself as I got into position.

I could see them in the rear-view mirror. They were like a pack of hyenas on an elephant. I heard metal scream against metal as they wrenched the roll-down door off the truck. I watched as a huge, black van pulled up and Los Desperados, their faces still covered, started throwing my stuff in the back. They were being careless with the merchandise, which was another thing I would have to punish them for.

I had a shotgun, a box of shells, two Glocks, and a knife. If Los Desperados thought robbing this truck just involved running it off the road, they had another thing coming. The gun was loaded and I was ready. I pushed my door open and took cover behind it. I saw one Los Desperados standing perfectly in my sight and I aimed the shotgun at him and fired.

The first shot hit my target right in the chest and he flew backwards like he had been punched and then lay sprawled out in the grass. I cocked the shotgun and shot at another as the thieves cried out and scrambled for cover and their guns. I reloaded quickly and fired off two more shots; in the darkness of the night I didn’t know if any connected, but I heard more than one voice cry out in pain.

They had taken cover behind their bikes and on the other side of the truck. I needed to be careful and watch for them at my back or crawling underneath or over the top. There were too many points of attack for me to cover them all forever. I had counted at least twenty of them and there was only one of me. But one may have been enough if they were sloppy.

“Put the gun down and come out and we’ll let you go,” a voice called out over the clearing.

Like I was ever going to believe that. I placed my shotgun in the rolled down window of the truck and aimed at the direction I heard the voice coming from. I fired off a shot and they began to yell angrily at me.

I thought about running for it, but the clearing behind me went on for a long time and there was no room to take cover along the way. Plus, I would be on foot and they would be on their bikes. I could try and make a brake for the road and the warehouse district, but there was no way I was getting past of all those bikers. This was it this was my last stand. Time to go out in a blaze of glory that would make the boys back at the club proud.

I aimed my gun where I knew Los Desperados were standing and I began to fire at them, pumping out shells and reloading without even thinking about it. I heard bikes roar to life, but I ignored them. All I could feel was the gun under my hands, the shells slipping into the chamber, the kickback once I fired. It was like everything was happening in slow motion, the spark from the shot hanging in the air while I watched the bullets as they traveled.

I heard voices behind me and I spun and shot two more times, but they were on my other side now, too. I spun and fired and as I went to reload I felt something heavy slam down on me as I was tackled to the ground. I struggled but whoever had jumped on me was on top of me and he had pinned me down. I could see my gun, but it was out of reach and I watched as a member of Los Desperados picked it up. I was trapped. They were taking me alive.

“Don’t fucking move,” I heard a breathless voice say.

Then I felt that unmistakable feel of cold metal on my scalp. He had a gun pointed to my head. I should have fought him off. If he shot me that would be fine; it would be better than being taken alive. But my hands wouldn’t obey me; they remained on the dirt in front of me and didn’t move. I could feel rough hands on me as the two pistols were removed from their holders. I felt them traveling along my arms and down my back, over my ass and then stopping at the knife strapped to my hip.

“You put up quite the fight for a girl,” the man said as he roughly flipped me over. He was kneeling over me and headlights surrounded us.

I couldn’t help but squint to shield my eyes from the brightness as I tried to make out his face. Finally my eyes adjusted and I could see the man who had captured me. He had light golden skin, dark hair, and green eyes, and he looked huge, all muscles with tattoos traveling up and down his biceps. I got the feeling he could scoop me up and throw me ten feet without a problem. I was suddenly speechless, not knowing what to say or do. I would be no match for this man, no match at all. He could lay me out with one tap of his fist. I just didn’t understand why he’d gone to the trouble to take me alive.

“Hey, Julian, check it out. The Bandits are so desperate they have women driving their trucks now.” A voice called out from the crowd.

The man who had been hovering over me, Julian, sat back on his heels and I sat up shakily. I could see my guns and knife sitting in the dirt next to Julian. Could I get to them fast enough? They would take me out, but I might take at least one of them with me.

“Come on now, you got to give her some credit. She’s a good driver,” Julian said. He was staring at me and I finally had to look away.

I needed to do something I needed to get up and attack and fight. But I had never been so outnumbered or outgunned before. And the truth was, the thought of ending it all and throwing my life away was too much. I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Not yet, I had to hope that there was still some way I could get out of this alive.

“Load up the truck,” Julian shouted to his men, but even though he was talking to them his eyes never left mine. “I want us out of here in under ten minutes, move!”

“I’m a great driver,” I spit at Julian. I needed to do something.

“Well,” he said, as someone handed him a long piece of rope. “Not so great,” he continued, slapping my knee lightly with the rope. “We did run you off the road, capture you, and steal all your merchandise.”

“Yeah, well, Alexander the Great was killed by dirty water. Even trash can bring down a king.”

“You think we’re trash?” he demanded, and any lightness in his voice was gone as he grabbed my wrists and began to tie them tightly together. He was tying some insanely complicated knot and the fibers were rubbing painfully against my skin. He left a long lead on it and when he was done tying my wrists he gave a strong tug on the lead, jerking me forward.

“You’re Los Desperados. You’re not a real gang. You just steal from real gangs. You’re the lowest, you’re bottom feeders.”

“And what you do is so noble? What’s wrong with stealing things from you, when you’ve stolen them from somewhere else.”

“We go through all the work. We set up the connections, deals, buyers and sellers. We do all the real work and then you come in and profit off of us.”

“So we’re smarter than you?”

“No, you’re not capable of doing what we do,” I said.

He shrugged and stood up, and I tried to ignore how tall he was. He towered over me and, as he tugged on the lead, I could feel how strong he was. I ignored him; even as the rope burned my wrists raw, I refused to move. I sat on the ground, stubborn as ever, and pulled against my restraints.

“Get up,” he said again. But this time he pulled his gun out and aimed it at me, right at my head.

With a sigh I stood and watched as he slipped it back into his holster. I would need to get his gun off him somehow. Maybe I could trip and fall into him and grab it, or I could try to sweet talk him and get a little closer. The second one wouldn’t be hard. Now that we were both standing I could see his full height. He was like a giant or some medieval knight. He must have been over six five and, when I stood next to him, I only came up to his chest. He was handsome and there was something to him, a confidence maybe. Flirting wouldn’t be that hard.

But flirting could easily get out of hand. There was too much of a chance that I could lose control. What if it backfired and flirting wasn’t enough; what would I do then? I stood at the back of the truck next to him and watched as Los Desperados quickly moved the merchandise from the truck to the van. They worked quickly and efficiently, and I watched as before my eyes the haul was reduced to nothing and my rig sat empty.

“Joey, drive the van straight home. Take your time don’t get caught,” Julian said. I was breathing deeply and waiting to hear what he would say about me. What would my fate be, an unmarked grave in the desert, or something worse?

“What about the girl?” one of Los Desperados members asked.

Other than Julian, they all still had their faces covered. I could see my reflection in the visors of their helmets when they were close. I looked pale and scared and short next to Julian.

“I think I’m gonna take her home to meet the family,” Julian said turning to face me.

“You should let me go,” I said to him, trying to sound as commanding as possible.

“I should?” He asked with a laugh, “Why?”

“Because unlike your chicken shit operation, The Bandits are a real gang. You can’t just take one of their members. They will hunt you down until they find me. You think you’ve started a war with this? Stealing merch is one thing, kidnapping a member is another. You can’t imagine what they’ll do to you if you take me.”

“That is true. They would be very angry if anything would happen to you. So, I will just have to watch you very carefully,” Julian said, walking towards me and reeling me in. He was only inches away from me and I looked up at him through my lashes. “You’ll stay with me and we’ll see what Marco says.” From behind Julian I could see the members of Los Desperados nodding their heads. Marco must have been their Big Tom, the guy in charge. It was almost never a good thing to meet the man in charge. “You ride with me,” he said with a nod turning away from his men and tugging on the rope that bound us together.

All around us motorcycles roared to life as the men mounted them and took off towards wherever Los Desperados called home. Eventually all the bikes left until it was only Julian and I next to the destroyed and empty rig.