Twisted Rose: Motorcycle Dark Romance 3 (The Darkness Trilogy) (7 page)

His plan was to wait for Serge to arrive and then go in. He didn’t know if he’d find his other targets in there but getting Serge was the most important thing.

The morning wore on and the main street began to get more traffic. People drove by in pickups and big SUVs. They needed vehicles like that to survive the harsh winters. Spring was finally arriving but there was still a real bite when the wind got up. The businesses and stores along the street began to open up and the parking spots along the sidewalks filled. Josh felt better with more people on the street. He was less obvious lurking in the alleyway.

Two more bikers arrived and parked their bikes out front. Neither rider looked like Serge. Josh began to get worried that Serge wouldn’t arrive. Or that he would only arrive when the clubhouse was full of guys. If there were too many guys in there his plan wouldn’t work.

And
plan
was a very generous term for what Josh intended to do. His idea was to walk straight into the clubhouse like he belonged there. With an MC as big as the DRMC, there was always the chance that if you just walked into the clubhouse no one would stop you. No single member knew everyone else and they didn’t know everything that was going on either. There were so many riders and so many plans at any one time that you might be able to walk in and get away with it for a few minutes. His plan was to go in, find Serge, and shoot him. If he managed to get out after doing that it would be a bonus. He’d get any other guys he could but Serge was his main target. He didn’t have an escape plan, he didn’t have an exit strategy. As long as he could get Serge he’d be satisfied. Rose deserved at least that much.

And there was a good chance his plan would work if there weren’t too many guys in the clubhouse. If Serge was in there drinking with a few other guys, Josh could just walk right up to him and put a bullet in him. But if too many guys were in there, that might not work out so well.

That was why he found himself getting nervous when two more bikes pulled up. That made seven bikes parked in a row outside the clubhouse. It was after nine. If Serge wasn’t one of these two then he might have to rethink his plan.

The riders pulled up and straight away Josh saw how fat one of them was. That could be Fat Boy. The other rider pulled off his helmet and sure enough it was Serge Gauthier.

Those were his marks. If Josh could walk into the clubhouse and take out the two of them then even if he didn’t manage to get out alive, at least he could die knowing he’d given Rose what she needed to move forward with her life. Two of the men who’d harmed her would be dead.

*

R
OSE RODE HARD AND FAST
to get to Val-d’Or. She kept her body low and made good time on the long ride south from Chazel. The highway was clear and smooth and ran in a straight line down from Macamic to Rouyn-Noranda. She didn’t slow down as she passed through the town. Soon she was on the Trans-Canada heading east. It was still morning when she drove through Malartic and began to hit the edges of Val-d’Or. The only thing on her mind was getting to Josh and stopping him before he did anything to get himself hurt or killed.

She knew she couldn’t ride down the main street of Val-d’Or without attracting the attention of the DRMC. They practically owned that town and anyone who came in on a bike was answerable to them. She rode in slowly along Third Avenue and pulled onto a small side street. She had to avoid going down Main. She didn’t want to ride past the clubhouse. She was a block south of main and she passed the drug mart that she’d been brought to so many times when she was working for the DRMC. Seeing the place made her shudder. Even the thought of being brought there by Serge or Murdoch or one of the other bikers made her feel sick.

She turned into an alley and rode slowly in the direction of the clubhouse. And then, she saw something she could never mistake. It was Josh’s bike. Actually it was the bike Josh had stolen from Serge. She pulled up next to it and looked around frantically. It was out of sight from the street. Clearly Josh had made the same approach to the clubhouse she had, using the alleyway for cover. She parked next to Josh’s bike and walked to the corner to look across the street.

She saw Josh! He was walking right in the front door of the DRMC clubhouse!

“Josh!” she called out.

XV

O
NCE JOSH STARTED CROSSING THE
street he couldn’t stop. There was nothing he could have thought of at that point that would have made him turn around. He’d made up his mind. He’d decided what he was going to do and once started it was as if everything that was to follow had already happened. For men like him, men who were forced into situations where they had to act decisively, men who sometimes had to kill other men, it had to be that way. He knew where he was going and even though he didn’t know what he was going to do, he knew he was going to do it.

A pickup was coming his way as he crossed the street but it slowed down as it approached him. Josh didn’t look at it. He didn’t look to the left or right. His entire focus was on moving forward. His handgun was stuffed in his belt at his back and he’d covered it with his jacket. As he reached the door of the clubhouse he almost thought he heard his voice being called. But with the wind coming in from the north the way it was he took it as an omen and didn’t look back.

The DRMC clubhouse was like a lot of other biker clubhouses Josh had seen. There were pool tables in the center of the room and a bar against the back wall. Doors led off the various rooms and there was a staircase that opened onto a landing overlooking the bar. The place reminded Josh of the old saloons he’d seen in western movies.

Three guys were sitting at the bar with their backs to him. They were being halfheartedly served by the fattest bartender Josh had ever seen. His face was cut up and badly bruised, as if he’d recently been in a fight.

Josh cleared his throat. The three bikers at the bar looked over their shoulders at him. They were all middle-aged with broad shoulders, the DRMC patches on their backs, and beards that made them look like Vikings. None of them was Serge Gauthier.

“Who the fuck are you?” the one in the middle said.

Josh didn’t answer him. He walked with long, steady strides in their direction with such purpose and assuredness that they hesitated to react. Josh had known they would hesitate. The DRMC was a club run on fear, and fear like that always made men slow to react. It made them slow when they needed to be fast. They were all afraid that Josh might be some friend of Serge or Deuce and that he was walking toward them with such confidence because he knew none of them could get away with laying a finger on him. That was the disadvantage of having a big club and keeping your members in the dark.

Josh addressed the bartender directly.

“Are you Fat Boy?”

But he didn’t even wait for an answer. Before Fat Boy had a chance to decide what was going on Josh pulled his gun from behind his back and suddenly, Bang!

There was the slapping sound of a bullet and in the same instant one of the bikers at the bar took that bullet straight to the head. His skull exploded on impact and blood and bits of bone splattered the other men.

Before his limp body even hit the ground, Josh’s gun let off a second bullet and the man next to him suffered the same fate. A bullet struck him just above the nape of the neck and came out the front of his face and smashed the mirror facing the bar. By now, both Fat Boy and the third man at the bar were desperately ducking for cover but it did the man at the bar no good. He had nowhere to hide. He was crouched down with the bodies of his two friends and Josh didn’t even pause to look at him. He had his gun stretched out in front of him and he put two bullets in him. There was no thinking in Josh’s actions. Any thinking had been done before he entered that bar. It had been done on the ride down from Chazel, or in the bed, lying next to Rose. Now was not the time for thought. It was a time for action.

The bullets flew toward the man and hit him like stones being flung into thick tar, sinking into the flesh around his shoulders and neck. The man collapsed onto his two friends in a pool of blood that was growing by the second.

Josh was still walking toward the bar and was just ten paces from it when Fat Boy rose up from behind it. He was holding a mean looking shotgun and in the same instant that Josh dove for cover, the barrel of the shotgun exploded with a flash of actual flame.

Josh screamed in pain. Shrapnel from the shot had cut into his left shoulder and back as he’d ducked for cover. He was behind an overturned table but he knew that Fat Boy had only released one of the barrels of the gun. He leapt from where he was to get better cover behind the pool table and in the same instant the table shattered into splinters. That was it for Fat Boy. The shotgun only had two barrels and there wouldn’t be time to reload.

Josh rose up and slid over the top of the pool table and was at the bar before Fat Boy could get himself through the door leading back to the storage area.

Josh looked at him. There was no doubt in his mind that he was looking at a cruel and evil man. Something about Fat Boy told him that was the case. Josh didn’t know the things Fat Boy had done in his life but he didn’t need to. He didn’t need to know anything. Fat Boy was a man that was going to hell, very soon.

Josh refused to allow himself the luxury of thinking. He didn’t think of the three dead men on the ground at his feet or of the fact that he firmly believed he was going to hell himself. He didn’t care about that.

Josh believed in God. He’d been brought up Catholic and he hadn’t put enough thought into religion to make up his mind about it one way or another. As far as he was concerned, he was damning his soul doing this thing, and he was resigned to it.

“You’re the one they call Fat Boy, aren’t you?” Josh said.

Fat Boy shook his head but it was more out of shock than out of any attempt to conceal his identity.

“Where’s Serge Gauthier?” Josh said.

“You looking for Serge?” Fat Boy stammered.

That was true as far as it went and Josh nodded.

Fat Boy pointed up at the ceiling. “He’s up there in a meeting with Deuce.”

Josh knew there wasn’t much time. If Deuce and Serge were still upstairs it was only because they were taking the time to arm themselves with the biggest, baddest weapons they had to hand.

“Anyone else in there with them?”

“Another guy, a kid. Patrice, they call him.”

Josh had never heard of the kid. He grimaced at the thought of having to kill him but it was unlikely he would have any choice. He looked down at Fat Boy. The man was shaking in fear. Josh tried not to look at him as a man, he steeled his heart against any sympathy or compassion. This was a man who’d raped and brutalized Rose and if she was going to be able to move forward with her life she needed to know that he’d paid a price for it.

“Do you know who I am?” Josh said.

Fat Boy shook his head.

“I’m a friend of Rose Meadows. I believe you’re acquainted with her.”

Josh watched as Fat Boy’s eyes seemed to roll back in his head. He was recalling the things he’d done to Rose. A horrible snarl came over his face as he pictured her.

“Oh, you’ve found yourself a fine slut there, mister,” Fat Boy snarled.

“Fuck you,” Josh said.

He raised up the gun and took aim.

“I’ve seen that bitch swallow more semen than a whole pack of whores. I’ve seen her piss herself and lie in it for a day. I’ve seen her…”.

*

B
ANG!

*

F
AT BOY’S HEAD SWUNG BACK
violently under the impact of the bullet.

Josh rose his hand to his forehead and wiped sweat on his sleeve. He shook his head. He had to keep going. These men were getting what they deserved.

XVI

R
OSE WATCHED JOSH ENTER THE
clubhouse and she had an awful premonition that it was going to be the last time she ever saw him alive. She called out his name but for whatever reason he didn’t stop. He seemed to pause for a moment but then he continued in through the door of the clubhouse and disappeared.

Rose started to run after him. She was halfway across the street when she heard the first gunshot. Instinctively she ducked for cover. Then she went and hid behind an old truck parked by the side of the street. She crouched as low as she could and covered her ears. She heard two more gunshots and then two more. With each shot she pictured Josh being killed. She didn’t realize it but there were tears on her face as she looked up and down the street, terrified that the DRMC would come pouring out of the clubhouse to get her.

Eventually the shooting stopped or at least seemed to. Rose was gasping, trying to catch her breath. She steadied herself against the truck and pulled her gun from her pocket. She looked over at the door to the clubhouse and waited for someone to come out. When they did she’d be ready to shoot them. She clenched the gun in her fist as she watched the door. No one came out.

No sound came from inside the clubhouse. All was silent. The street was deserted. She rose up and looked around. She didn’t know what to do.

What had happened inside? Was Josh alright?

Without thinking of the danger she ran up to the door and pushed it open. What she saw inside horrified her. There was blood everywhere. Three corpses were slumped on the ground by the bar, pools of blood oozing on the floor in a widening circle. It looked thick and viscous.

Behind the bar was a man standing with his back to her. She would have recognized that back anywhere in the world.

“Josh,” she blurted out.

But when he turned to face her she was shocked by what she saw. Josh looked like another person. Gone was the kind, tender look in his eyes. Now they were fierce and animal. Rose wanted to cry again just from the sight of him. What had she done to him? What had she forced him to become? He looked like a bull in a rage, ferocious and unpredictable.

She wanted to say his name again but her voice caught in her throat.