Lucifer’s Fury (A Motorcycle Club Romance) (3 page)

Cherry Pie was a tiny little redhead, barely standing five-feet tall, with a sing-song voice. Being over a foot taller than her, I was like a fucking giant standing next to her, but she always had my back.

Always!

Most people underestimate a sweet little thing like her. She’s feistier than a case of dynamite when provoked. And it does not take much to set her off. Seeing her in action will blow your mind. Hell, it’s been years and I’m still stunned by the things she can do.

On top of all that, she’s a real man eater. It would take a real beast of a man to wrangle a wild woman like Cherry Pie. So far, no man had what it took to understand her. It’s sad, really. But she still gets hers, finding temporary comfort where she can. It works for her but that’s not my style. Sometimes I can’t help but wonder if I’m saving myself for nothing, though. Maybe there isn’t a Mr. Right for girls like us.

“You ready for tonight, Pandora?” she asked, practically bouncing up and down like a kid on Christmas morning begging to open presents. God, I loved this girl. It took everything in me not to pat her on the head. She hated it when I did that.

“You know it. The Twisted Bastards just can’t take a hint, so once again, we’ll just have to teach them a lesson. I mean you would think they would get a clue after the last dozen or so times we’ve screwed their shipments up.”

Cherry Pie shook her head and giggled, her heavy red curls bouncing around her tiny face. “They really aren’t the smartest guys. That’s what happens when they think with their dicks.” She raised a finger to her chin, deep in thought. “That’s assuming they have dicks. I still think mine is bigger than theirs, though. Pretty soon they’ll give up and move on. I hope anyway.”

“Maybe.” I didn’t have the heart to tell her that men like the Twisted Bastards would never stop. The chances were small... really small. Nonexistent really. They would just find a way around us and keep their filthy sex trafficking operation going one way or another.

It’s always been this way, and as much as I hated it, it wouldn’t change.

Well, not unless we went in and annihilated their entire MC. That was something we really needed to consider, and soon.

“Are the girls in the war room?” I asked.

“Yep. They’re as eager to get the show on the road as we are.”

“Well, let’s get to it then. No time like the present to wipe the floor with some Twisted Bastard trash and save some unfortunate ladies from a lifetime of sexual slavery.”

The laughter and steady chit-chat came to a sudden halt as Cherry Pie and I walked through the door of the war room. It was time to get down to business and all my girls knew it. In a heartbeat or two, all twelve girls, Cherry and myself included, were seated around the large oval table. I took my seat at the head of the table and slammed the gavel down.

“Tonight is a big night for us. From what we can tell from word on the street and a little reconnaissance, this shipment of girls is by far the largest we have ever seen. With that many innocents, we have to be even more careful that they aren’t harmed. We’ve been watching the Twisted all week and with each report there are more women than the time before. Last headcount was more than three dozen, and that number could have increased since. But we can handle this.”

A chorus of sure cans and hell yeahs followed my statement.

I waited for the room to quiet before continuing.

“We’ll go in the same as always, hot and ready to take down any Twisted Bastard we see. On previous missions, we’ve avoided killing… but I think we should consider changing that to shoot to kill. Injuring the men obviously hasn’t helped our cause so we’re apparently being too nice. So from here on out, we use deadly force if everyone is in agreement. We’ll put the shoot to kill order to a vote due to the danger of it blowing back on us in the future. Before you cast your vote, give your answer some serious thought.”

I gave a quick nod to Cherry Pie. She got the voting underway, and within a few minutes, we had all agreed to shoot to kill, regardless of the blowback.

“Good. As usual, we’ll be partnered up and covering each other the best we can. Nobody is to be left behind.”

We quickly went over the plan to infiltrate and extract the women without injury. With so many civilians to rescue, we had decided that only the girls with field experience would go on this job. It was important that we get in and out without leaving so much as a hair behind.

“All right ladies. Let’s get in and out of there as quickly as possible,” Cherry Pie said. “Remember this is a shoot to kill operation. Our priority is the same as always – rescue the women and young girls quickly and safely. Any questions?”

Around the table, we were met with silence.

Good.

We were ready to get to work then.

Chapter 3: Pandora

Under the cover of darkness, bad things happen. It’s nights like this that make me proud to be the president of a group of women like the Gypsy Riders. All of them are strong and formidable in their own way. Seeing women mistreated in any way rubs us all the wrong way.

A few of the girls have experienced the harshness of a man’s hand, the steely viciousness of their words, and still others have been forced to give their bodies. It doesn’t matter if the abuse is emotional, verbal, or physical, the long-term effects are often more than a person can bear. The physical abuse of the women we’ve already saved from the Twisted Bastards weighs on my mind every damn day. The bruises, split lips, swollen eyes, and dead stares in the eyes of these women just slay me. It brings out the beast in each of us, and we use that to our advantage.

We have to.

We quickly and quietly filed out of the black vans, parking them in the shadow of darkness down the road a piece. Splitting up into several two-woman teams, we headed out. Without a word, we reached our positions, surrounding the shipping yard. We didn’t have to wait very long before the thunderous roar of motorcycles sliced through the night as the Twisted Bastards arrived. There were half a dozen leather-clad riders this time. Not bad. Not bad at all. At least we were fairly matched. That would make this quick and easy.

Raising my hand to my earpiece, I was just about to give the order to move in when the bright lights and rumble of a semi-truck and trailer rounded a nearby building, headed straight for us.

“Looks like we have a late arrival ladies. Be ready to move in,” I quietly ordered, returning my attention to the group of men.

The air brakes of the big rig released a loud whoosh of air. A few seconds later, a large portly-looking man exited the cab, leaving the driver’s side door wide open. Cherry Pie gave me the side-eye, arching her brow in question. No doubt she was wondering what the hell was going on. I was too.

I shrugged my shoulders, offering a what-the-fuck expression. This was new. We had expected the usual shipping container of girls being loaded onto a nearby boat for an unknown destination.

The driver hobbled to the rear of his rig, a weary expression on his face as he came face-to-face with a much larger man covered in tattoos. Words we couldn’t make out were exchanged. The driver pointed to the trailer, nodded a few times, and opened the doors, lowering a long metal ramp.

“Jesus. They’re going to load them into that?” Cherry Pie growled out.

I blinked at the sight before me and nodded. “Looks like it.”

Five of the bikers headed for a few rusted-up shipping containers, quickly releasing the locks and disappearing inside the darkness with only the beam of a small flashlight to light their way. Seconds later, the screams and sobs of dozens of women echoed through the night. I flinched as the sound of their fearful cries stabbed my ears. Wiping away the lone tear that slid down my cheek, I reached for my earpiece and gave my orders.

“Wait until all of the women are loaded onto the truck then take out these fucking bastards. Stay in the shadows unless you have no other options.”

We watched from the shadows as more than four dozen women and young girls were loaded, single file, into the large trailer. Some of the girls appeared to be as young as ten years old. A small girl at the back of the line of women stumbled, falling to her knees. Her sharp cry of pain echoed off of the metal containers, breaking my heart.

The man behind her grabbed her by the hair, jerking her to her feet. The disgusting man grabbed at her small barely there chest, tearing away the thin summer dress she was wearing, fondling her small body. The poor girl, naked but for her panties and shivering in fear, filled me with rage. My control shattered as images of such a young girl having her innocence stolen by heartless cowards flashed before my eyes.

Thugs.

Rapist bastards.

Before I knew what was happening, I stood up pulled my gun from its holster, and moved along the shadows, working my way closer to the danger zone. Voices in my earpiece sounded off like battle cries.

“Fuck.”

“Move in. Now.”

I pushed those voices aside, trusting that my girls had my back. I couldn’t see them for the blinding rage – a hazy curtain of red – coating my vision, but I knew they were there just the same.

Finally, I was as close as the shadow would allow. Thankfully the men were too busy to notice me, their backs turned to me as I edged along the shipping containers, stepping out of the shadows and into the light, circling the semi-truck. Raising my gun, I took aim and fired.

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

Bodies fell.

Women screamed.

I didn’t care who the men were or what their club rank was. It didn’t matter in that moment. The other men dropped around me as the echoes of more shots filled the night. The women in the truck trailer screamed and screamed and screamed. Their pain seeped into me as I knelt over the leader of the Twisted Bastards. Their president.

“You should have stopped while you were ahead,” I hissed. “You should have walked away. You are just too damn stupid.”

Gurgling sounds erupted from his lips as a crimson stain rippled along his dirty white shirt, his eyes wide as he looked into mine. I smiled back at him but it wasn’t a soft smile. No. It was a purely wicked smile that bordered a smirk, all teeth and hatred rolled into one menacing expression. Standing over him, I looked down on him like the filth he was as his life drained from his useless excuse for a body. No more would he hurt a woman.

“I’ll wipe each and every one of you Twisted Bastards from this world if it’s the last thing I do.”

Squatting over his hulking body, pressing the gun to his head, I fired the kill shot. It wasn’t nearly enough.

So I fired again. And again.

A small hand gripped my shoulder, bringing me out of the darkness I was succumbing to. I hated the darkness, hated the way the silence pulled me deeper into the madness hidden there. That’s where men like the Twisted Bastards lived. I didn’t belong there. In times like this when my control slipped I straddled that line. Tears crawled down my cheeks mixing with the blood splattered on my face.

“Pandora. We have to move. One of the Twisted got away. Do you hear me, Pandora? We have to hurry up, babe.”

Glancing over my shoulder, I nodded. “Are the women safe?” It was then it dawned on me that I never lowered my mask. Fuck me.

“Yeah. They’re all okay.”

Within minutes we had the women out of the confines of the truck trailer, cut free from the zip ties that had bound their wrists together tearing into their flesh. Juju, one of my girls, grabbed a cellphone – from the looks of it, a burner phone from one of the Twisted – and handed it to a tall blonde, her face swollen horribly and covered in bruises. I couldn’t hear what she said but the woman smiled and gave Juju a hug. They’re always thankful for the rescue. In their shoes I would be too.

The large group of women huddled in a tight circle as the blonde made a call. Probably to the police. Good. That’s really good. Then we hustled our asses through the nearby woods and back to our vehicles. Mission accomplished.

An hour later, we arrived back at the clubhouse, each of us silent as we breached the main door.

I didn’t linger.

I couldn’t.

My mind was racing. What the hell had I been thinking? Never before had I acted so ignorantly as I had tonight. It was a stupid move, to step out of the shadows like that. And I hadn’t even lowered my damn mask to hide my identity. Christ how stupid could I be? It was dangerous for me. Dangerous for my girls. Shit!

I quickened my pace across the room, headed for my room. My sanctuary. I needed... hell, I wasn’t sure what the fuck I needed. A shower for starters to rid my body of the blood splatter. And time to think too.

“Pandora?” Cherry Pie asked as my hand gripped the door knob to my room. “Are you all right?”

“I fucked up tonight. Could have gotten us all killed.” My voice weighted and somber.

“Yeah, you could have… but you didn’t. It all worked out.”

“Maybe so. But the one that got away is a big damn problem. That shit isn’t good. My mistake will cost us. Until tonight, they haven’t known who was hitting their shipments. Now they do. My face was uncovered. I screwed up royally Cherry Pie. Tell everyone to travel in pairs and watch their backs. We need to lay low for a bit. Let this blow over if we can.”

“You’re right about that, but we will handle it. We always handle our shit. Take a shower and get your ass back out there and celebrate with the girls. If you don’t, I’ll come back in here and kick your giant ass.”

“Fine. You win.”

Chapter 4: Pandora

Thick whirls of smoke billowed around the yellow-hued light hanging above the well-worn table in the corner of the main room of the clubhouse. We’d been camped out going on a week now, laying low. The clubhouse was as silent as a tomb and had been since our last mission. Word on the street was the Twisted Bastards were out for blood. Fear of exactly what they might be planning scared the living hell out of me. I’ve failed my girls epically. All I wanted right now was a plan to keep us all safe and get through this hell I’ve caused us all.