Page 33 of Outlaw
“Ready to roll out, Pres,” Axe shouts above the chorus of the off-beat rumbling of our Harleys, Choppers and other custom-built bikes.
“Let’s see if we can make some Mexicans dance,” Tate adds.
Shaking my head, I give the signal. “Follow me and keep up.”
Almost two dozen angry bikers head out onto the highway with the early evening sun at our backs. I relish the warmth that presses through my leathers, a silent reminder we’re taking the heat right back to Los Diablos’ doorsteps.
Twenty or so miles down the road, I wave my hand in the air, signaling for my men to make a hard right. We turn off the highway to a gravel side road, heading down a path beside a narrow dried-out gorge where red rock mountain ranges divide the northwest Arizona desert. We’re minutes away from prime Los Diablos territory, but our rivals won’t expect us to come from this direction. I make them all stop to do a final weapons check. There’s nothing an arsenal can’t fix. On these special trips, everyone needs to be packing the heat in a big way. I trust my boys to be armed to the teeth and ready to use their gear without question. It’s the Satan’s Saints way.
“Move out,” I call out.
We’re set to go.
We reached the last section of the gravel road leading up to a sprawling, private ranch house about a half a mile from the Los Diablos main clubhouse. I motion with my hand again and they all stop, park and get situated. Getting off my ride, I look on as they secure their weapons of choice and prepare themselves. Although this is a surprise attack, I brace myself. We’re on enemy territory. They’re probably not expecting us, but we need to be ready for anything. My gaze flicks across the uneven, rough desert terrain. Everything is calm. Except, why is it that Los Diablos don’t have men stationed everywhere after attacking my clubhouse last night? That makes no sense at all, but I put it out of my mind, explaining it away with the idea that they’re here and taking cover because they must be expecting our immediate retaliation. Which means we need to be that much more vigilant.
It’s time, so I start giving orders. We four executives will head in first, and our seventeen reinforcements will be waiting to close in on the place once we draw out the Los Diablos scum hiding out who knows where. I want Vasquez. He’s today’s target, and I don’t plan to remove him from this earth just yet, I want answers. I wrap it up with, “Remember my orders. Women, kids and the elderly are off limits. I don’t care if they’re armed. We’re focused on the patch-wearing Los Diablos men and officers we know, because they can get us to their Pres. It’s blood for blood, so remember their attack didn’t take out any of our members. That means no one dies today. This visit is about getting answers and sending a message without going overboard. Let’s show Antonio Vasquez how we fucking rule.”
The men all nod.
Time to exact our own special brand of justice.
Satan Saints style.
