Big Dog (7 page)

“This is the thing, we have a meeting with Lucifer’s Breed tonight.” He let that sink in and was gratified to see her eyes widen a little and her nose began to flare. Maybe old Crazy Charlie was right. If he told her what’s going on, it might gain her cooperation. “I can’t let any lasting harm come to the prisoners until tonight, and there is a big chance their own people will take care of your need for revenge. Lucifer’s Breed upper management doesn’t have a clue what some of their enforcers are doing, and it appears that when they find out after the fact, they are reluctant to take care of it. Their club has gotten so big that it’s hard to keep track.

“I don’t give free passes, those motherfucker’s know me, they waited until I had to fly out to bury my parents, and they fucking attacked like the rats they are, in the middle of the night. It took me two long damned years to track down the story, and who did what. Charlie told you, we all thought you were dead, until Butch’s old lady told him about treating a girl with extensive injuries that was found on a dirt road naked and half dead. She described the tat on your back, and the one on the back of your neck. Poppa, Tiny, and Lorenzo, the guy that did the artwork, all agreed that it had to be you.

“This all came to light almost a year after that fucking softtail disappeared from the lot here. Everyone called you the little witch, hell, I never even knew your real name until I got your father in here to tell me what this Oracle we were looking for was. We found the bar, when Tarzan and Needles got out of jail, and stopped in the place for a beer. They came back and told Tiny about the name of the place and he looked it up. O M Smith is the taxpayer, and all we could get out of Merlin was him saying we should find the Oracle. He kept saying shit like, “The Oracle will tell you what happened, find the Oracle.”

They could hear the clatter of feet on the stairs and Big Dog stood and headed for the stairs. “We leave at seven, be ready.” Her parents came into view and she could see the years hadn’t been friendly to the aging hippies.

They’d been in their early thirties when she was born. That might have contributed to the reason they considered her a gift from God and the bearer of good news. She’d missed them, as silly and marshmallow brained as her mother was, the woman had never forgotten to remind her daughter that she was loved. Merlin had always been her biggest fan, and would brag to anyone listening about his Oracle and her special gifts. He loved her too, maybe he went a bit far with bragging, but she always knew he was there for her. It had hurt when she thought they’d left her for dead.

She suffered through the embrace of each of them and felt the bones protruding, and the fragility of their bodies. Her mother retained her beauty in the sparkle of her eyes, but the climb up the steps left the woman shaking and Future helped her sit into the soft cushions of the sofa. Merlin wore a crafty look in his eyes and she knew he was going to start with his interrogation. She answered them, but skirted the more painful memories and spent the time talking about her bar and home. She promised to visit them at home before she left. She helped her mother to escape the sofa’s soft cushions. Since it was dinnertime, they all went down to the dining room and Muffy sat at a table to keep a spot for them, while Future and her father filled her a plate and got her a cup of tea.

She left them still eating their dinner, and made her way to the front door where several men were already gearing up. Her bike was nowhere to be seen and she was becoming agitated. She looked around and saw a shiny Dodge backed up close to the side door of the club, and four men were wrestling two long wooden boxes into the bed. It didn’t take more than a moment’s speculation for her to conclude the boxes contained guns, not handguns. From the number of bikes and riders present, it appeared this party wasn’t only serious, it would be epic.

Five old ladies were tagging along, and several greybeards were milling around, waiting to be assigned a task. The women and older members were driving the two trucks. One was towing an enclosed trailer, and it was obvious the truck’s bed was loaded down too, but fiberglass lids were lowered to keep others from seeing what was being transported.

Big Dog came out, flanked by his handpicked men. It was obvious he planned to make a show of strength, and when he called her over, and told her that she was riding with him, she balked. “I want my bike.”

Chapter Six

He didn’t have time for this shit, she would be safe with him and the vanguard. What the fuck was her problem? “Give me one good reason that you’re acting all prissy right now, ‘cause I have to tell you, I’m not impressed. You can ride in the box on the way back, but you will get your ass on my bike, and you will shut the fuck up now.”

She was shaking her head no and the only way to make him understand why she wanted her bike, would tell him one of the lessons she’d learned that night, the night that her world changed forever. “I ride my transportation, I can’t trust that you will be there when I need to leave, I don’t trust anyone, so don’t think you’re special. I was left at the mercy of those animals once before, shoved to the jackals so Dorsey could get away. If I’d been allowed to ride my own bike that night, I would have been gone before they could keep me.”

He could hear the fear, see it, and he understood her reason for being stubborn. “You see these men?” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder, “touch them, touch each one of them on the way to my bike, if one of them would leave you to be harmed in anyway, he stays here. No questions asked. One way or the other, your happy ass will be on that bike with me.” He dragged her to the first man, and ordered him to hold out his hand. Out of the ten men she’d touched, only one was iffy in her mind, but that might have been because he was shitfaced and held his liquor well enough to ride. He almost looked relieved when Big Dog called Needles over to take his place.

She had to take a few deep breaths before she hoisted herself on the big machine, but once she was seated, he shook his head, and pointed to the Tryke next to the hog. “Not tonight, witch woman, you get to ride bitch in style. This is a show, and we always deliver.” She climbed on and was happy that she wouldn’t need to hold his middle while she sat on a four by six inch pad of leather behind him. This seat was much better, and from the looks given him by a few of his men, she felt warmed when she realized that he’d decided to take the three wheeler at the last minute. She was still nervous, but his offer and the way he kept his word about replacing any man she didn’t trust, went a long way to calming her enough to keep her on the seat.

The drive seemed to take forever, and her guts were twisting from anxiety, but she felt no fear about this meeting. The place was what bothered her. When they pulled onto the dirt two track, she began scanning the woods around them. It had been so long since she’d deliberately tried to use her gift of sight, she worried she might miss something important. When the energies of Lucifer’s Breed came within her range of second sight, she leaned down and cupped her hand to his ear to tell him, “There’s at least fifty people ahead, and I think there’s a lot more further down, I can feel them.”

He didn’t say anything, his head nodded and he increased the speed of the Tryke a little. She knew he was showing his disdain for needing a shield or escort. They would be the first sight Lucifer’s Breed would see coming. It was both brave and stupid of him, but she felt the power he was ready to display building in his aura. She kept her hands on his leather-clad shoulders, and hung on over the bumpy terrain.

The sight that met her eyes reminded her of the old westerns on TV. When the cowboys looked up and saw a wide line of Indians watching them from above. Only the sea of bikes wasn’t above them, and no rocks to hide behind, except for the one she already sat behind. She leaned forward again and told him, “That is about half of them, the rest are on the other side of those trees.”

Big Dog figured as much when they’d started out to get here. Lucifer’s Breed were not stupid, at least not the National boys, they would never trust a rival club as large as the Burning Bastards. For the same reason, only ten of his men would be at the initial meet and greet, but thirty would be in the background, and another fifty were staying hidden in the wooded two track. One of the pick-ups would be directly behind the ten men behind his back. He wasn’t about to show them anything but confidence and strength. He stopped the Tryke ten feet from the line and saw his men pulling up beside him, flanking his sides, and two parked behind his rear wheels.

The large tent that was a military Field Officer’s style, sat squarely in the center. They could plainly see two men flanking a bearded older man heading for the tent. Seven others lined up behind the shelter, all of which would scare anyone in their right mind.

“Stay on the Tryke. Don’t get off unless I call you, I mean it. I won’t want to bust you one in front of these people, but I will. You need to believe that, I will do it. Everything you say after the fact will be held suspect, so do us both a favor, just do as I’ve told you.”

She believed him. He wouldn’t hit a woman in anger unless he had no choice, at least not that she could feel. He was also giving her protection if something bad happened. Four of the men, including the club’s VP, Butch, stayed with the bikes and her, the rest followed a few paces behind him as they walked out to meet Lucifer’s Breed’s President, and his men.

Big Dog moved forward and his men went with him. It surprised her to see Demon and Knight stayed outside, while Freakshow and Seth went in with their Prez. The waiting began. There were no friendly words exchanged between the two clubs’ members, only intimidating stares. An hour went by, then another, the men waiting to fight if needed took turns sitting on the grass and standing. One of the club’s scantily clad bitches took a case of brew out to the Bastards, she got swats on the ass and offers to allow her to take care of their other thirsts.

Freakshow came out of the meeting and walked back to where Butch was waiting, after few minutes of discussion, the VP nodded his head and the two men came over to her.

“Get down, and try not to act like a martyr. You are a witness, and it's show and tell time. All you have to do is tell your story, don’t argue, don’t elaborate, and for God’s sake don’t show disrespect to anyone in the room. This is your chance for the revenge that Big Dog says you want, don’t fuck it up.”

Freak led her into the tent, and she could feel the tension the Bastards were hiding so well. The bearded man must be the President of Lucifer’s Breed, and the others his lieutenants. Those were his most trusted allies along with his bodyguards. Just the same as any club, the President surrounded himself, many times they were VPs, Sgts at Arms, and Suits, or Lawyers.

Big Dog nodded at her, looked at his counterpart, and introduced her as Oracle.

“She was there the night of the meeting, she saw everything.” He turned his attention back on her and said, “Talk, tell us everything that happened that night and afterwards.”

The bearded President piped up, “Hang on a minute, if you’re going to waste my time bringing your fuck doll here to shovel shit in my lap, forget it.”

Big Dog shook his head, “I haven’t tapped that yet. I might at some point, but I have more important things to think about than trying to fuck this up by screwing a witness. One that took almost three years to track down. There’s no history here.” He nodded at Future.

Future talked, she looked at the bearded leader and kept her eyes on his. “Everyone was drinking, and those who had partners available, were having sex. Frenchy was playing his guitar by one of the campfires, everything was peaceful. The bikes ran over bedrolls, scattered stuff, and the men shot tasers at random people. One of your men carried a sawed-off shotgun and I heard it go off, but didn’t see who got hit. I was almost to the bikes when Dorsey grabbed me and shoved me behind him to get the two Breed off his ass that were chasing him.

“Reeker and several others forced themselves on me, when I fought back, he punched me out. The next thing I knew, I was tied to a hook in a cabin by a wide leather collar and a leash. They made me watch as they beat Frenchy to death, and Reeker hung Frenchy’s body upside down by his feet. They made me watch as they kicked his head into hamburger.” She was doing her best not to vomit from the remembered smell of blood and the sight of Frenchy when they’d finally finished with him.

“Jarl, Reeker, Mule and another man that I never heard his name, they held me there for over three weeks, torturing and violating my body. The last night I think they planned to kill me, but wanted to have their fun first.” She went on with her story and told them about waking up in the hospital. She stood with her hands at her sides, waiting to be dismissed.

Bearded man smiled at her. “Now let me get this straight, Jarl and Mule claimed to be the club President and Vice?” At her nod, he continued, “So, you had sex for a few weeks with my boys, and had to tell your old man the reason you played rabbit and ran that night. Rather than tell him the truth, you make up a story about abuse and being tortured for sympathy. So now you have to keep the story, right?”

The six men in the room were staring at her. All she had to prove her words were the scars she carried. She didn’t want to do what had to be done, thinking of the revulsion she knew she would see once they saw her scars was enough to make her want to run, but the only way to gain what she wanted was to do it.

She began with her boots, and shimmied out of her tight jeans. Her colors were handed to Freakshow and she stared at the skeptical leader of Lucifer’s Breed, as she pulled her t-shirt over her head, reached behind her back and unhooked her bra, then straightened up and dared him to say she had enjoyed one minute of the torture his men had done to her. She stepped back two steps to let them see the whole front and turned around slowly to stare at the canvas wall behind her. She let them look their fill, and raised her hands to pull her long hair to the front of her body, so the men could see the carved words in her skin, half of which were melted together in a grotesque mess of shiny purple and red skin. She heard “Holy fuck, did he actually carve wings in her shoulders? FALLEN and an A and an N.” There were other words, but when she heard someone gagging, she hung her head. She had to turn and face them again, had to tell them there was more, and she knew she was crying, but silent tears were all she had to help her relieve the hurt their words and the humiliation their lack of trust in her word carried.