me. Hell, for that matter, I knew next to nothing about MCs, beyond watching a couple movies here and there. "Because if you don't, I'll fucking kill you to get to him. Motherfucker knocked my baby sister up. I got a whole lot of ways to make shit hurt."
The guy called Timber fucking laughed. "Well, son, maybe you should'a kept a better eye on that sister." He looked down at the man on the ground. "She hot? Maybe we'll pay her a visit next." The buddies laughed.
The man on the ground tipped his head back to see me, and I could have sworn he raised an eyebrow. "Fucking sizzles, man. You gotta tap that. You'll think you been fucking cows all your life."
The guy with his back to me leaned back, relaxing his hold. "For real, man?"
"You watch it, fucker, that's my little sister you're talking about." I took a half step forward.
"For fucking real. Pussy tighter than any other bitch's ass." The guy gave a low whistle. "And the tits, my fucking god, magnificent."
The man leaning on his other shoulder eased back, too. The man on the ground exploded with a flurry of kicks and punches, quickly disabling the pair who'd been holding him.
The other one, Timber, pulled a .45 from an inside pocket, and leveled it at the guy. Maybe I should have waited, but I've never been long on patience. My feet left the pavement as I reached for my belt and the thin bladed knife I kept there. By the time I landed beside Timber, the edge pressed against his carotid.
"Move, motherfucker, and you're dead. I told you, I'll kill to get him."
Timber swallowed hard and glared at me. "You just made a big fucking mistake."
"Aw, hell, now you tell me. While I've got a blade ready to spill your blood all over this street."
"The Saxons will get you." His face reddened with anger. "They will hunt your ass down and every one of them will have that sister of yours. Don't matter if you kill me."
I let the blade sink just a little, enough for a bead of blood to show and the nick to sting like crazy. "Funny thing about that. I don't have a sister. And I don't exist, either." I glanced at the guy I'd just rescued.
He shook his head a little. "Too many civilians around."
"A'ight, then." I disarmed Timber while my new friend checked the others for weapons. "Be seein' you, Timber. You take it easy, man." I shoved him back and sheathed my knife, stepping back out from between the trailers.
"This way." The man I rescued double-timed it through the crowd, and I stayed on his heels. He detoured past a food booth with a handy-dandy trash can right beside it, and paused long enough to drop off the confiscated weapons. It seemed like a good idea, so I followed suit. Two blocks later, he slowed to a walk.
"Thanks, man, I owe you one. I'm Crank, Hell Raiders." He headed down a side street, filled with more vendors, though not as high-end as those on the main drag. "Haven't see you around."
"Not from around here." I debated giving him my name, and decided to hold off. "Did I step in on the right side back there?" No time like the present to get that out of the way.
"Well, from my point of view, hell yeah." Crank laughed a little. "Those guys were hassling a chick, and I stopped them. Guess I got their attention pretty effectively."
"Yeah, I guess so."
"Hey, if you're not doing anything, you should drop by the Hell Raiders camp. We got a prime spot, plenty of beer, plenty of pussy. What more could a man want?" He pointed out the road where all the clubs had set up separate camps. "Meantime, let me buy you a beer."
"Definitely won't refuse that." We headed for the nearest beer vendor, took our plastic cups of bad warm beer, and found a family of four leaving a nearby table.
"What's this club shit all about, man? Some of the people I've seen here look like office workers, or some shit, but they're wearing badass cuts and patches. Then others are like your buddies back there, Hells Angels rejects." The whole damn thing made almost no sense to me. If you're a biker gang,
The guy called Timber fucking laughed. "Well, son, maybe you should'a kept a better eye on that sister." He looked down at the man on the ground. "She hot? Maybe we'll pay her a visit next." The buddies laughed.
The man on the ground tipped his head back to see me, and I could have sworn he raised an eyebrow. "Fucking sizzles, man. You gotta tap that. You'll think you been fucking cows all your life."
The guy with his back to me leaned back, relaxing his hold. "For real, man?"
"You watch it, fucker, that's my little sister you're talking about." I took a half step forward.
"For fucking real. Pussy tighter than any other bitch's ass." The guy gave a low whistle. "And the tits, my fucking god, magnificent."
The man leaning on his other shoulder eased back, too. The man on the ground exploded with a flurry of kicks and punches, quickly disabling the pair who'd been holding him.
The other one, Timber, pulled a .45 from an inside pocket, and leveled it at the guy. Maybe I should have waited, but I've never been long on patience. My feet left the pavement as I reached for my belt and the thin bladed knife I kept there. By the time I landed beside Timber, the edge pressed against his carotid.
"Move, motherfucker, and you're dead. I told you, I'll kill to get him."
Timber swallowed hard and glared at me. "You just made a big fucking mistake."
"Aw, hell, now you tell me. While I've got a blade ready to spill your blood all over this street."
"The Saxons will get you." His face reddened with anger. "They will hunt your ass down and every one of them will have that sister of yours. Don't matter if you kill me."
I let the blade sink just a little, enough for a bead of blood to show and the nick to sting like crazy. "Funny thing about that. I don't have a sister. And I don't exist, either." I glanced at the guy I'd just rescued.
He shook his head a little. "Too many civilians around."
"A'ight, then." I disarmed Timber while my new friend checked the others for weapons. "Be seein' you, Timber. You take it easy, man." I shoved him back and sheathed my knife, stepping back out from between the trailers.
"This way." The man I rescued double-timed it through the crowd, and I stayed on his heels. He detoured past a food booth with a handy-dandy trash can right beside it, and paused long enough to drop off the confiscated weapons. It seemed like a good idea, so I followed suit. Two blocks later, he slowed to a walk.
"Thanks, man, I owe you one. I'm Crank, Hell Raiders." He headed down a side street, filled with more vendors, though not as high-end as those on the main drag. "Haven't see you around."
"Not from around here." I debated giving him my name, and decided to hold off. "Did I step in on the right side back there?" No time like the present to get that out of the way.
"Well, from my point of view, hell yeah." Crank laughed a little. "Those guys were hassling a chick, and I stopped them. Guess I got their attention pretty effectively."
"Yeah, I guess so."
"Hey, if you're not doing anything, you should drop by the Hell Raiders camp. We got a prime spot, plenty of beer, plenty of pussy. What more could a man want?" He pointed out the road where all the clubs had set up separate camps. "Meantime, let me buy you a beer."
"Definitely won't refuse that." We headed for the nearest beer vendor, took our plastic cups of bad warm beer, and found a family of four leaving a nearby table.
"What's this club shit all about, man? Some of the people I've seen here look like office workers, or some shit, but they're wearing badass cuts and patches. Then others are like your buddies back there, Hells Angels rejects." The whole damn thing made almost no sense to me. If you're a biker gang,
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