Rebel's Baby (23 page)

The Devil's Hellions rarely ever made it to the east side of Sacks County. The Mexicans owned the land and would shoot dead any other MC that stepped foot on their territory. We'd do the same to them. But as we rode our Harleys down the alley, past the line of Mexicans on their bikes, I knew the ceasefire had worked.

I had called The Death Merchants the day before notifying them that I was the new head of the Devil's Hellions MC. I suggested a meet up with Garcia to see if we could come to some kind of an agreement. I knew that going into the lion's den meant a possible ambush but it was worth the risk.

The Death Merchants agreed for the next afternoon at a junkyard on their turf. The smart move would be negotiating on neutral ground but I wanted them to feel comfortable—like they held all the cards. The rest of the MC tried to get me to change my mind but I told them it was essential for moving forward. Breaker backed me up and here we are.

I rode in front, leading the charge into the junkyard. Breaker was right behind me while Slade, Dylan, and a couple prospects held the rear. Old burnt-out cars were piled high on top of each other and the crusher in the back was destroying a car into little bits. We came to a blockade of Mexicans and motorcycles. One of them told us to leave the bikes and the guns. I nodded that it was all right and left my Glock at my Harley.

A group of Mexicans frisked each one of us before letting us through to an open area. We were completely surrounded by the enemy. Guns were trained on us from every angle. It wasn't going to be easy to get out of here alive.

Garcia came through the crowd and approached me. He rubbed his tiny black mustache and his black eye patch was as scary as ever. “What happened to Pain? He get too much dick in his ass and can't walk anymore?” The Death Merchants all chuckled.

I grasped Garcia's hand as hard as I could. “Pain is at home pounding your mama. He's retiring because her pussy is just too good to resist.” Silence befell the crowd. I stared Garcia in the eye as his upper lip twitched. A small smile formed on his face and I knew I had him.

“You're a son of a bitch, you know that, Dagger.” He gripped my hand hard and let go. Everyone collectively relaxed. I knew how to deal with Garcia by watching Pain over the years. You needed to push back—but not too much.

“Can we talk business now, Garcia? I know you saw the new sheriff the other day and so did I.”

Garcia nodded. “Never thought I'd see the day that a chica would become sheriff of Sacks. We should tie her up and take turns.”

I tried to ignore his statement. Who cares who the sheriff was anyways? The cops couldn't touch us and at least she was easier on the eyes than Mendoza. But imagining Melissa on her knees, my thick cock slipping past her lips. I wanted her to swallow every drop of my warm cum.

“How are we going to squash this war, Garcia?”

Garcia looked around at his buddies, grinning. “I'm not sure I know what you're talking about?”

I glanced at the other Death Merchants. They could shoot me at any moment. I didn't have much time left. “Let's not play games here. We know your gunning for our territory. What can we do to stop this before too much blood is spilled?”

Garcia scratched his mustache. “How about half your territory?”

Breaker couldn't help but laugh behind me. I turned around and narrowed my eyes at him. He shut up instantly. Breaker knew better than to mouth off.

“Now come on. You know that's not fair. Isn't there something else that you desire. Drugs or money?” I made sure to scan the other Mexicans, looking for any quick movements.

“We want your territory, Dagger. It's that simple. Give us some and we'll be happy.” Garcia grinned like he was my friend. I smiled back knowing his grin wasn't going to last much longer.

I knew that negotiating wasn't going to get us anywhere. The only way to negotiate with Mexicans was with blood. I scratched the back of my head and stepped aside, giving Big Mike a clear view of Garcia. A shot rang out from far away. Not even a second later, Garcia was on his knees, clutching his neck as blood rained out in spurts. Big Mike not only cooked great burgers,he was a good shot too.

The Mexicans were confused but we still didn't have any weapons. I had to speak out before they realized that it was us that did it. “I have snipers crawling all over this place and if you even lift your gun, my guys will take you out.” The Mexicans looked around, trying to spot any of the shooters. I actually only had Big Mike out there but they didn't need to know that. “Everyone put your guns down and get on your knees with your hands behind your head.”

Garcia fell over dead. His blood poured out and mixed with the dirt making a dark mud. The Mexicans did as they were told and dropped their guns. I closed my eyes and let out a sigh of relief. That situation could have gone a totally different way.

I spoke to the unarmed Death Merchants. “Your leader is dead now. I'm sure your veins are boiling with rage. Revenge will be your only savior. But let me tell you this. If you come after us, only more Mexican blood will be spilled. I hope your next leader is smarter and decides to work with us rather than against.”

I nodded to the other Devil's Hellions members and we walked past the furious expressions. It was a miracle we made it out of there and back to our bikes. The Mexicans didn't dare move. “You think they're going to let this go?” Breaker whispered, putting on his motorcycle helmet.

“Not a chance in hell. But at least they'll be disorganized with their leadership gone. We better prepare because they're going to be hungry for blood.”

We rode back to our side of Sacks County, congratulating each other on a huge success. Big Mike was the star of the show and we got him a few whores to share the night with. He deserved it. Being President was so scary but I had the experience to turn the ship in the right direction. If I ever needed guidance, Pain would be there to help me. I was going to need a lot of it soon enough when the Death Merchants came looking for vengeance. I hoped I made the right decision.

I sat in the meeting room in the dark, my elbows resting on the wood table. The clubhouse was silent after the partying died down and everyone passed out. My brain was on fire and kept me wide awake.

The Mexicans would be gunning for us now. But now we might actually have a chance to win the war.

My phone buzzed on the floor next to the sleeping bag, the Beatles song blaring into the quiet night. It was four in the morning and I was still awake. A new place and sleeping on the floor equaled a terrible night's rest.

I squeezed my arms out of the sleeping bag and grabbed the phone. It was the police station. Must be an emergency for them to be calling at this hour.

“This is Sheriff White,” I answered.

“Uh...Sheriff White...it's Officer Moore...” His nervousness bled through the phone.

“Take a deep breath and tell me what happened.”

I listened as Moore inhaled sharply. “We have a body here at the junkyard on the east side of town.”

“Okay Officer Moore, can you give me directions?”

I ran to the kitchen to find a spare pen and blank piece of paper. Moore rattled off the cross streets. “Be there in twenty,” I told him, ending the call.

I rushed to the pile of dirty clothes in the corner of the bedroom and began putting them back on. I had no time to sort through moving boxes to find a fresh outfit. I brushed my hair and grabbed my holster and gun on the way out. Belle meowed at me as I closed the door. “Be back soon, kitty cat.”

I arrived at the junkyard and an officer lifted the caution tape as I ducked through. The sun was barely creeping up and the birds were already singing. I found Officer Moore pacing back and forth around the body. Before I could get there, Officer Johnson surprised me.
What the fuck was he doing here?

“Can I talk to you for a moment, Sheriff?” His demeanor had changed, his shoulders slouched and head down.

I walked off to the side with him, still fascinated by Officer Moore's pacing. “Are you ready to come back, Johnson?”

He nodded. “I wanted to apologize for the way I acted the other day. I was totally out of line. It's just that Sheriff Mendoza was a mentor to me and to have somebody else filling his shoes...”

I put my hand up for him to stop. “It's fine, Johnson. You can get your badge and gun when we get back to the station. For now, help us out with this body.”

We walked over to Moore who stopped pacing and cleaned his glasses. “Were the directions okay, Sheriff?”

“What do we have here?” I asked him.

Moore put his glasses back on and bent down over the body. “Older male in his early fifty's. One single shot to the neck.”

I recognized him immediately. It was Garcia who I only met a few days ago. Now here he was, dried blood caked all over him and two gold coins over his eyes. What happened here? I stepped away from the body and strolled around the crime scene.

A pair of boot prints were stuck in the blood but I knew that would only be a needle in a haystack. A large caliber bullet was found near the head of Garcia. Looked to be from a sniper rifle. I positioned myself where Garcia was most likely to be standing when he was shot. I peered straight ahead and up. An office building about two hundred yards away had the perfect vantage point.

“I want a team on the roof of that office building over there,” I announced. Nobody moved for a moment until Johnson pointed to two officers and they left the junkyard.

I went back to the dead body, running through all the possible scenarios in my head. It had to of been the Devil's Hellions MC. A single sniper shot during a meeting but how did they get away without more dead bodies?

I pointed to the stack of cars. “There might be more dead bodies here. Make sure to check out all the cars before we leave. Also get a statement from the owner of the junkyard.

Johnson nodded and threw out some orders to a guy standing by the caution tape. Maybe he was going to be more helpful than I thought?

“What are the gold coins for?” I asked, pointing at Garcia's one eye. “Does the Devil's Hellions MC do this to their enemies?”

Moore looked dumbfounded. Johnson spoke up, “The Death Merchants do it to fallen brothers.”

That didn't make any sense. “But what reason did they have to kill their leader?”

Johnson shook his head. “They didn't kill him. Somebody else did and the Mexicans left the body for us with the gold coins in his eyes.”

I still had a lot to learn about the gangs in this town. “So instead of taking the body and burying it themselves, they wanted us to find the killer?”

Johnson picked at his ear. “I've seen it a few times before. It's a way for them to put the heat on their enemy.”

I circled around the body, looking for anymore clues. “Wouldn't they want their enemy dead? Why get them arrested?”

“Sacks County Prison is the best place to kill somebody. Confined area with loads of lifers who are ready to commit another murder for the cause.”

These MC's were smarter than I thought. I expected some low-level gang shit but not intricate plans. I was used to gangs shooting at each other until they ran out of bullets.

“The only one who could have done this was Dagger Taylor,” I announced.

“He's the...uh...new president of the Devil's Hellions MC,” Moore chimed in.

“Want us to pick him up and bring him to the station?” Johnson asked.

I shook my head. “No, I'll take care of it myself.”

Johnson and Moore left me alone with the body. I kneeled down and stared at him for awhile. I knew that I wouldn't be able to pin the crime on Dagger Taylor so bringing him in would do nothing. He wasn't the one who pulled the trigger. But maybe the team on the roof would find something? Get me the true killer.