Page 36 of Stranger Gifts

“Matthew? How did you know?”

He just gave a golden smile and she felt a chill go up her spine. There was true magic in this place. The kind that Jenna would never understand.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

“How?” he screamed into the phone. “How in the fuck did all of your tents, all of your bikes suddenly, mysteriously catch on fire?”

“I don’t know boss, but we’re all safe. That’s all that matters.”

“That’s all that matters? What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you fucking high? I need support here to get to these men. To get our fucking motorcycles and those bitches back! I need that fucking nun.”

“You should really let it all go, boss. Hate is overtaking your life.”

“What the hell,” he mumbled, running his hands through his hair.

“Listen, most of the boys have either hitched a ride home to get their things or bought train or bus tickets to other places. The clubhouse is no more. Someone said it just blew away. No storms, nothing, just blew away.”

“This can’t be happening. It’s makes no sense at all. They’re here. They’re all here. It’s drugs, they’re using drugs,” he mumbled.

“Boss, I think you need a break. I wish you luck,” said the man.

The line went dead and Killer just stared at the phone, unsure of what to do. He was stuck in a city that didn’t want him, with only six men remaining, one who would leave at any moment, and no back up. But he couldn’t allow this to end here. He needed those damn bikes.”

“Boss, why can’t we just buy bikes from another vendor? There are lots of good bike companies out there and they’re less expensive,” said the man before him.

“Because I fucking promised someone it would bethosedamn bikes!”

His oldest member, someone who had started in the club with his father glared at him, shaking his head.

“You damn fool. You did it, didn’t you? You made a deal with that damn Mexican.”

“He’s Peruvian, but yeah, what the fuck about it Hose? What the fuck do you want to say about it?”

“You’re a damn fool. I already said it. You promised us you would walk away from that man. He’ll kill all of us. All of us that are left,” said Hose. “Your old man refused to do business with him.”

“He refused to sell the bitches to him,” grinned Killer. “I don’t have the same qualms about that. Bitches are bitches. You use ‘em the way you want to and that’s it. Ferdinand wants to use them for special projects.”

“You’ve lost your damn mind,” said Hose standing as best he could. He was in his eighties and still riding a motorcycle but he knew his time was close. “I won’t let you do this, Killer. I’ll follow you, I’ll stay because this club is my entire life but I won’t let you send them girls to that maniac.”

“Then you don’t stay,” said Killer looking at the man. The others stared at him, wondering what would possess him to kick out their oldest living member. It was like sacrilege.

“Maybe you should tell the boys then,” said Hose. The smile left Killer’s face and he shook his head in a threatening way at the old man. “No. Tell ‘em!”

“Tell us what?” asked one of the men.

“He wants the bikes for that scumbag, Ferdinand. His own father refused to do business with him. He’s gonna send them girls to him. We all love women, don’t mind usin’ ‘em for ourselves, but this sick fucker is gonna breed with them and then use their kids. When they can’t breed no more, what he does to their bodies is disgusting.”

“I heard he hangs the women at his gates to warn others,” said a man.

“That’s right,” nodded Hose. “That and other things. If he don’t get those bikes and those women, he’s coming for all of us.”

“That true, Killer?” asked a man.

Killer glared at the old man, silently vowing to take his life himself. The problem was he needed them all to stay. But the bigger problem was he couldn’t lie about this. Ferdinand was showing up tonight.

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s true or at least that’s the rumor. I’ve never seen it myself. He’s offered us millions to do this,” he said.

“Fuck me,” mumbled another man. “No thanks. I’m done.” He grabbed his bag and left through the new Semu custom door.

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