Devil's Angels Boxed Set: Bikers and Alpha Bad Boy Erotic Romance (11 page)

CHAPTER FIVE

“Did you have the mommas do this?” Pax spit out through barely open lips.

“No,” answered Keith with a laugh. “I did it. She wants to be a Knight Momma.”

Keith paused for an additional cold laugh before continuing softly as if he were speaking about the weather. “When she showed up here just in time for our little initiation, I thought we should include her.”

Pax spoke through gritted teeth, “She’s not a momma. She doesn’t want to be a momma. She is my girlfriend… and she is under my protection.”

“Long John always said everyone shares,” responded Keith. “That was his rule for the Knights.”

“Long John is dead,” answered Pax. “I am President of the Camden Knights now, and I don’t say that. I say the rules have changed.”

“You are President-elect, not President,” answered Keith. His voice rose slightly.

“Are you challenging me?” Pax replied.

Conversation stopped throughout the club. Pax was not shouting, but the timbre in his voice had deepened and the resonance of his chest had become so great that he could be heard at least throughout the building and possibly outside.

“Maybe I am,” Keith responded coldly, the laugh now gone from his voice.

Pax and Keith squared off against each other. Anger and hatred seemed to boil off them both, heating the air around them. Luckily neither was holding a weapon,  or one or both of them would already be dead.

They began to slowly circle each other in the confined space, waiting for a chance to pounce. For the Knights gathered in the small room, it was almost as if they were watching lions getting ready to fight over control of the pack. You almost expected one or the other to snarl and spring in attack.

Before either of them could swing at the other, however, a voice from the crowd of Knights said, “You have a run to make, Keith. Long John’s rules also said, ‘Business first. Personal issues later.’ You two can take care of this later.”

“We will deal with this when I get back,” snapped Keith as he turned suddenly and strode out of the bathroom.

Pax reached down and began removing the tape from Sammie’s arms and legs. “I am so, so sorry this happened,” he said. There were no tears on his face, but his hands were trembling slightly and there was anguish in his voice. He lifted Sammie up and hugged her close to himself, shielding her body from the eyes in the room. “I am so, so sorry,” he repeated.

“This might hurt a little,” he said as he grasped the tape that covered her mouth. With a quick snap he pulled it free. She gasped slightly as the tape pulled at her face. Then she buried her face in his chest and began to sob softly. Pax stood holding her tightly for several minutes.

“He won’t be coming back,” Sammie said softly, her face still buried in Pax’s chest.

Pax moved her to arm’s length so he could look at her face and asked, “What do you mean?”

“That’s why I came over here this morning... to warn you... and him.”

Sammie paused to regain control of herself and then continued, “He’s riding into a trap. Los Lobos have convinced El Jefe that Keith is a cop. They have a picture of him in uniform on a cop bike. I think he let one of his ex-girlfriends take it with her phone. They told El Jefe that it was from before Keith went undercover, and is proof that he is a cop. El Jefe will kill him when he gets there.”

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, SHIT!” yelled Pax, his hands now balled up in fists alongside his body. He then yelled out to the main room, “Short John, get in here NOW! And bring a blanket or something!”

Short John came running in, carrying one of the tablecloths from the tables out front. “What’s up?” he asked, glancing around at the gathered Knights... and the blonde... and Sammie.

“Keith is riding into a trap,” Pax replied rapidly as he wrapped Sammie in the cloth. “I need you to take care of Sammie until I get back. Take her up to my apartment and stand guard. Don’t let any of Keith’s squad anywhere near her. Make sure she stays in the room. There should be some clothing up there for her. You get her anything else she needs, but keep her out of the rest of the club. I should be back before midnight.” He paused and turned his gaze from Short John to Sammie. Then he continued, “If I don’t make it back, take her to her father. He can protect her if everything blows up on us.”

“ Who’s her father?” asked Short John.

“Theo Johnson, head of the Marauders,” Pax answered with a grimace. He then turned back to Short John, smiled and added, “It’s a little complicated.”

“Your girlfriend is the daughter of the head of the Marauders!?” Short John sputtered.

“I told you it was complicated. Just keep her safe!”

Pax held Sammie lightly in his arms and now spoke softly to her, “I have to go see if I can save Keith. Short John will keep you safe, and will take you to your father if things go totally south. Remember that I love you, and I will come back to you.”

“You are going to risk your life for him, after what he did to me?” Sammie asked, somewhat heatedly.

“I have to,” Pax answered. “He’s a Knight, and I am the leader of the Camden Knights. As some old fart politician once said, ‘He may be a bastard son of a bitch, but he is my bastard son of a bitch.’ I have to do it.”

Looking Pax in the eyes through her own tears, Sammie said, “You know that I will hate you if you die doing this for someone like Keith.” Then she sighed and continued, “but at the same time, know always in your heart that the fact that you feel you have to do it is part of why I love you. Stay safe. I love you. Come back to me.”

She then turned and walked silently with Short John out into the main room.

“Double D!” Pax called out. “Is Long John’s second bike still set up as a cop bike?”

“Yeah,” came a shouted response.

“Gas it up and put the medical carrier on the back. Key into the police dispatch computer and indicate that Unit-whatever the hell the police number is on that bike-is making a snake antivenom run down to the desert aid station.”

One of the ruses that the Knights often used to transport drugs was to make it appear that a motorcycle cop was transporting snake antivenom or other emergency medical supplies to or from one of the many small hospitals or aid stations near the border. Once, a heart ready for transplant, which was really 9 kilos of prime product, was rushed into downtown Phoenix, where a properly bribed hospital tech accepted the shipment and transferred it into a body bag ready for pickup by a local mortuary.

The fake cop bike was a daring ruse, but it worked. And it was a real adrenaline rush to race down the highway, lights flashing and siren blaring, knowing that if you were actually stopped or questioned, everything would be discovered. But nobody—not even the vigilante border patrols—ever questioned someone transporting blood or anti-venom or a snake that needed to be identified to save a bitten child.

Keith was going overland. Pax would be using the highways, which were longer but much faster, especially when you were able to weave in and out of traffic at 20 to 30 miles per hour over the limit. With any luck, Pax would arrive at the rendezvous point before The Boss acted to kill Keith.

It was a hard ride, but two hours later he was turning onto a rough desert road toward the scheduled meeting at an abandoned mine camp in the middle of nowhere. As he flew down the road in a cloud of dust, Pax kept the lights on and the siren blaring. There were most likely guards and/or snipers posted along the way who could easily pick him off if he tried to sneak in. He was banking on the fact that, without specific orders, they would hold off if he came blasting in alone. It was a big risk, but Pax was betting that they wouldn’t take him out, if for no other reason than because they would want to know what kind of crazy, idiot cop would try to take on an army of ruthless, armed men alone.

As he reached the end of the desert road, Pax could see three SUVs arranged in a semi-circle at the edge of the old camp. Without slowing down, he rode toward the middle of the circle and at the last moment leaned the bike into a full speed, sliding U-turn, holding the bike up with one leg as the tires broke free and skidded in the soft ground.

While the dust was still clearing from the air, Pax dropped the bike and took off the leather police jacket to reveal a Camden Knights denim vest beneath it. Everyone there, except Keith, was pointing a weapon at him as he walked slowly over to the group of gathered men and stood directly in front of The Boss. He removed the police helmet and said quietly, “We have to talk.”

Pax knew that a simple nod of The Boss’s head would cause a dozen weapons to cut him down, but, despite the danger, he stood calmly, watching the well-dressed man take in what had just occurred.

The Boss’s face was blank—impassive—just like a Mexican drug lord’s face had to be in public. “What do you need to say to me?” he said in perfect, non-accented English.

“Keith is NOT a cop,” Pax said emphatically. “That picture Los Lobos sent you proves that he is stupid, but it doesn’t prove that he is a cop.”

The Boss’s mouth moved slightly. Pax thought he could see some tension leave his tightly pressed lips. He continued, “We use the cop bikes when necessary to get your high priority shipments through the real cops and the vigilante border patrols. Keith should never have let ANYONE take a picture of him dressed as a cop. He is very damned stupid to have done that, but he is NOT a cop.”

Pax took a breath. “Have your men check the bike. From any distance, it looks like a real cop bike. We even have false numbers for it hacked into the police dispatch system, but if you look closer you can tell it’s a fake. Keith is not a cop.”

The Boss made a quick hand motion and two men walked over to Pax’s bike. One of them said loudly, “That explains why I couldn’t ID him, Boss. The bike looks good. The numbers are valid—hell, I remember seeing that designator go by on the activity screens.”

His hands moved over the bike as he continued to speak, “... but the mounts are wrong, and the switches for the lights aren’t right. The radio is also one of the older models we don’t use anymore. Fake bike... fake cop.”

The two men then began walking back toward one of the SUVs. As they were getting into the vehicle, the other man said, “Fake bike, just like he said. And I’ve never seen either of them around the station. Fake cop, just like he said. You don’t need us anymore, so we’ll be getting back before we are missed for too long.”

“Do you have a shipment or not?” asked Pax quietly.

“You still taking it north?” replied the well-dressed man.

“Not me,” answered Pax, pointing at Keith. “Him.”

The Boss turned to one of the men waiting by the SUVs. “Wait ‘til I leave,” he ordered. “Then retrieve the shipment and give it to the stupid Gringo.” He and his bodyguards then walked to the second SUV and soon roared off into the desert.

“We will talk when you get back,” Pax said to Keith. “Don’t do anything else stupid. And make sure the shipment gets delivered on time.” He then put his police jacket and helmet back on and began the ride back north. There were no lights or sirens on the return trip, so it was growing dark by the time he once again pulled into the parking lot of the clubhouse.

When he climbed the back steps, Short John was sitting in a chair just outside the door to his apartment. “You could have waited inside,” Pax said.

Short John replied with a bitter laugh, “Too much temptation, and too much talk even if I never did anything. Much better if I just stayed out here.”

“You can go home now,” Pax said. The relief was obvious in his voice.

“Is Keith okay? Are things cool with The Boss?”

Pax merely nodded.

“Is she really Theo’s daughter?”

Pax blew out a deep breath. “Like I said, Short John, it’s complicated.”

“It is more than complicated,” answered Short John. “If we end up at war with the Marauders, people are going to wonder whose side you’re on. And even if we aren’t at war, how do we convince the other Knights that she isn’t Theo’s spy?”