Smolder: Trojans MC (55 page)

Chapter Twelve

Falcon’s energy was still high as he buzzed down the stretch of road that led to the clubhouse. The gunfight at the processing plant had invigorated him and motivated him. He wanted to get the rest of the Screaming Eagles. Falcon didn’t feel like a rat or a traitor, but instead like a superhero dispensing justice. The Screaming Eagles had threatened his two-year old daughter and they had crossed the line. Now it was time for them to go down and Falcon was going to do it man by man.

His phone buzzed and he looked down at the number and smiled as he read the text.

“Nicely done today. I’ll be in contact.” He could easily imagine Grace with a truck full of Screaming Eagles, her arms crossed confidently in front of her chest. She was doing what she loved and the only reason it worked was because Falcon was helping her. Maybe this was his calling? Maybe he wasn't meant to be biker; maybe he was meant to bring other bikers down.

He could hear the chaos of the club as he approached the door, but he was ready for it. Falcon felt like he was wearing an impenetrable armor. He had been nervous earlier in that day, but Grace’s plan had been flawless and it had instilled a confidence in him. He knew exactly what he was going to do and say; he wasn’t afraid or worried about those men in there. For the first time in his life he was aware they weren’t better than he was. They weren’t smarter or stronger or more capable. He had spent his entire life in awe of the big bosses of the Screaming Eagles, but now he saw how quickly and easily they fell. He wanted to topple more.

He opened the door to the clubhouse and the place was in such an uproar one noticed him at first.

“Holy shit, Falcon. You got away? They raided the apartment,” Jimmy said running up to Falcon. 

“Yeah,” Falcon said breathlessly. “Where are Big Chris and Billy? They were right behind me...but we got separated.” There were more members openly staring at him, but Falcon didn’t care. Let them stare. Let them look for weakness. He was ready for it all, ready for the questions, the interrogations. He wanted them to bring everything they had. He was ready.

“You’re the only one who came back,” Jimmy stuttered as he looked around the clubhouse.

“Yo, everybody shut up!” the boss screamed out as someone raised the volume on the big TV in the center of the room.

Falcon moved closed to watch pretending to look confused and angry with everyone else.  It was news report on that day’s raid, a sudden interruption that cut off the Jerry Springer rerun.  A camera was moving across the Screaming Eagles’ apartment stash with long lingering camera shots that focused on the guns and small baggies of drugs.

“As you can see,” a reporter was saying, “this nondescript apartment on Eighteenth Street, above a closed pawnshop, was being used as a location to move massive quantities of drugs to street-level dealers. Believed to be the work of the infamous biker gang, The Screaming Eagles, the police have found hundreds of kilos of methamphetamines in this location and made six arrests. The Chief of Police has also recently confirmed the bust of a major processing center said to belong to the Screaming Eagles. The processing center was located out on the Warren G. Harding hunting preserve and was believed to be a major hub of operations.”

From there the camera cut from the apartment to a press conference held by the Chief of Police.

“Boo!” members of the gang yelled, giving the middle finger to the TV and the Chief.“Chief,” a reporter asked. “Are you targeting The Screaming Eagles on purpose, or has this been more a series of lucky breaks?”

“First off, there was nothing lucky about this,” the chief answered. He was a taller African American man in his late forties and was said to be incorruptible. “This was the result of months long investigation and excellent police work by the LAPD. And we are not targeting just The Screaming Eagles; we’re targeting all the motorcycle gangs. I’m telling everyone right here and right now, gang activity and gang warfare will not be permitted in my city. We are cracking down not only on guns, but on drugs, as well. This is a concentrated effort between the city of Los Angeles, the FBI, and our counterparts in Homeland Security and we are far from finished.”

The boss hit mute as the many voices of the Screaming Eagles filled the clubhouse. “You made it back,” he said to Falcon.

His eyes were boring into Falcon’s but Falcon just looked right back at him and shook his head sadly. “I can’t believe it, man. How did they find out about the apartment?” Falcon demanded looking around him. “Billy and Big Chris were right behind me. We separated on Cross Street. I thought they would have beaten me home.” He let a sad expression cover his face as he looked down to the ground. “What are we going to do, Boss?” He asked bringing his sad eyes up to meet his boss’s.

The older man looked confused and then looked around him. Other members had heard Falcon’s question and they were waiting for a reply.

“We’re gonna go bigger!” he yelled, his strong and confident voice overpowering the rest of the members who were instantly silent. “The cops want a war, they’ll get a war. They think we’ll back down? We’re gonna go twice as hard. Business continues as usual.”

“We lost Big Chris and Billy,” Falcon quietly reminded his boss. He knew he should have been feeling nervous, but he felt bulletproof. He was realizing the trick to making this all work was to ask questions and lead the conversation. If he waited for the boss, he might ask a question Falcon couldn’t answer. But if Falcon asked the questions, it was his boss who was on the ropes.

“I know,” he said with a nod as he looked at Falcon. “Men will have to step up; we’ll have to work twice as hard. But this is our business, our very way of life, and we cannot let anyone take that away from us!” It was a rallying cry and it was echoed by the members of the Screaming Eagles, Falcon included.

At that moment Falcon understood something he had never understood before. There was only one way his boss could keep this business afloat: he had to sacrifice his men. Two leaders of the gang had been arrested that day and there was no time to mourn them; they needed to move on. This meant two men would replace Billy and Big Chris and when the replacements were arrested, two more men would take their place and on and on it would go and the boss would always get away. It wasn’t right and it wasn’t fair.

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he read it discretely. “5:00 same place as last time.” It was from Grace. She wanted to meet him at the shack by the beach again.

“Who was that?”

“Kelly,” Falcon answered easily. He didn’t try to hide his phone or put it away. In fact, he typed in the letters OK as his boss watched and then put the phone back in his pocket. “It’s nothing major, just a doctor’s appointment for Sophie.” He felt so calm and in control; he had never felt like this. It was as if a veil had been lifted from his eyes. He had always been in awe of the higher ups of the Screaming Eagles. He used to think the boss walked on water, but now he knew better; now he saw his boss for the conniving selfish son of a bitch he was and Falcon was mostly mad that it had taken him so long to realize it.

He looked at the TV again, watching as the camera was pointed at piles and piles of methamphetamines. What did Grace want? Was it going to be another roll in the hay, or did she want more information? At that moment Falcon wasn't sure what he wanted more. Being with Grace was like playing with fire; it was tantalizing and exciting and mostly very dangerous. But it felt so good. For the first time in his life, he felt like he was in control of his own destiny and he knew how much of that he owed to Grace. He knew he had to go. He couldn’t resist her and he didn’t feel like trying.

Chapter Thirteen

Falcon stayed at the clubhouse for two hours. He gave a great performance, calling the police actions outrageous and promised that the cops would reap what they had sown. He laughed loudly and led rallying cries and somehow or another by four-thirty everyone was clapping him on the back and congratulating on getting out of there. The praise and attention for something he hadn’t done was oddly thrilling. He was putting on an act for them and it was working.

“Poor Billy and Big Chris. I look forward to avenging them myself,” he said and everyone around him raised a glass to his courage. He felt like an actor, a man paid to play a part and play it well. At certain times he even forgot he was spinning fiction as he bemoaned the capture of their fellow Screaming Eagles. He swore the loudest and promised the angriest revenge; he shook his head and rattled his fist along with everyone else. Deep down inside he was glad Big Chris and Billy had been captured; it felt right. They were bad men and they had got what they deserved, but on the outside he showed nothing but anger and sadness.

At four-thirty he looked down at this watch and then stretched his arms and his shoulders. “It’s a little cramped in here and I’m all amped up. I’m gonna go for a ride,” Falcon said standing up. He was at the center of a table filled with his fellow bikers and they all made disappointed noises as he stood.

“Where’re you going, Falcon?”

“When you coming back?”

This sudden surge in popularity was strange to Falcon. He had been a member of the gang since he was fourteen when they would remind him that his record turned clean when he hit eighteen. But he had always been a foot soldier, a nameless face ordered to go here or do that. But now people were looking at him, turning to him with questions and seeking him out for advice. He had survived two run-ins with the cops and some were starting to think it wasn't luck or trickery that had saved him, but skill.

They were wrong, but Falcon wasn’t interested in correcting them. For the first time he didn’t care about the gang or what its members thought. For the first time he wasn't trying to get noticed or looking for advancement, so it made sense that the second he stopped looking for it, it suddenly appeared.

But he was supposed to meet Grace. Beautiful tall Grace who lived to put the scum around him behind bars. Grace who had changed everything, Grace who had given him an out. He would rather be with her, whether they were planning a raid, or planning to screw, he didn't care. As long as she and her intelligent green eyes were there, so was Falcon.

“I’m not going anywhere, just gonna drive around. I’ll be back whenever,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders and to his surprise everyone nodded. His status had changed in the gang in some imperceptible way. But he knew he couldn’t allow himself to get cocky. The other foot soldiers might have gained some respect for him, but the boss was another story.

Falcon had to resist the urge to whistle and spin his keys around as he walked towards his bike. He wasn’t allowed to look happy; he needed to look angry and upset and worried and so a scowl crossed his features as he slipped his helmet over his head and got on his bike.

He was less than a mile away when he noticed the tail. He wasn't sure whom it was, but they were trying to keep a distance. The problem with motorcycles is how noticeable they were. A car was better for a tail. So what were the bosses thinking? Were they just curious where Falcon was going, or were they still trying to watch him at all times? Did they still not trust him?

Either way, he was in no mood for that shit. Falcon revved his engine and sped up, he took the first exit off the highway that he could and made the first left and then the first right, which brought him to a wide-open park. He drove through the park, letting the trees and the bubbling noises of the streams absorb the sound of his motorcycle.  He got to a wooden bridge and waited. He was pretty sure he lost the tail on the highway, but waited to be sure. From up here he had a wide view of the park and he scanned the various roads and paths, but he neither saw, nor heard any other bikes.

Good
, he thought as he sped away down the lane and exited the park on the other side. He kept his eyes on his rear-view mirror looking for tails, but he didn’t see any.

He made it to the rendezvous point early and waited in the parking lot for the beach. Grace arrived ten minutes later and pulled her car, a black SUV, up next to Falcon.

“What are you doing I said same place. That means the shack, not the parking lot.”

“Get on,” Falcon said, nodding to the back of his bike.

“What?” Grace demanded from her car. She had rolled down her window, but the engine was still on and she was giving him an annoyed look from her driver’s seat.

“I said get on. Get on the back of the bike with me, or I’m not saying another word.”

“That’ insane-” she started, but Falcon cut her off.

“You can bring your gun and your badge and your phone, anything you want, but you're driving with me.”

She let out a frustrated sigh before angrily opening her door and stomped out into the parking lot. Falcon handed her his extra helmet and she huffed as she slipped it over her long, silky hair. Tentatively she slipped onto the bike behind Falcon and he couldn’t help but stop to appreciate the feel of her legs against his, her breasts pushing into his back. She brought her arms loosely around his stomach and Falcon pulled them tighter around him until she was flush against him and he could hear her breathe in his ear.

He pressed the gas and they took off down the road. Grace instinctively clung even tighter to him and he relished the feeling of her hands around his body. He liked the feeling of protecting her, of being in control. He would never have hurt her, or let anyone else hurt her; he just didn’t know how to say it. So the best thing to do was show her. He would take her for a motorcycle ride and keep her safe the entire time. They drove along the coast eventually following along a twisting coastal road with the vast blue ocean on their right.

As the road opened up and the view appeared before them, Grace gasped as she looked out over the sudden bright blue ocean. Falcon could taste the saltwater on his lips and feel the cool ocean breeze against his skin; it reminded him of something he couldn’t quite define. All he knew was that he liked being by ocean, nothing bad had ever happened to him on the shore. Seagulls were calling to each other and wheeling through the sky above them as the two continued down the long road.

Eventually it leveled out and they were greeted by crowded beaches filled with surfers and palm trees and kids who ran screaming towards the ocean and jumped in without a care in the world. The sun was setting in front of them illuminating the ocean in pinks and oranges and yellows and it was so beautiful that it was hard for Falcon to focus on the road.

But then he remembered the hot chick he had in tow and that he really didn’t want to crash his bike and so he put his eyes back. He kept driving until he slowed next to a sign that said NO TRESPASSING and ROAD CLOSED. He ignored the signs and turned his bike down the road. A steel chain, long since gone to rust, was strung across the road, but Falcon easily went around it and then sped up once he was on the other side.

The road was empty, it had been closed for repairs about a year ago, but Falcon had yet to see anyone back here working on anything. The street was lined with palm trees as he continued down it, traveling at a slow and relaxed place. But even though they weren’t going as fast, Grace was still holding on to him tightly.