Crash (Black Ice MC Novella Book 2) (10 page)

Danni said she’d get him back now, so Doc and Cruz got him to his feet.
 
They didn’t want to put another shirt on him, but they threw his jacket over him and helped into the passenger seat of the car.

Danni got behind the wheel and realized she didn’t have the keys.
 
Cruz appeared in the window, dangling the keys from his hand.
 
She took them without either of them saying a word, but she could read his face clearly.
 
He clearly felt bad about what he did, but he wanted more.

Three days after being stitched together, Mercer was looking better.
 
His color had returned, his energy levels were up.
 
He had spent the first two days in bed, but was now sitting upright on the couch while he watched TV.
 
Danni came into the living room with his lunch.

“How’re you feeling?”

“Stronger,” he said.
 
“But now everything is starting to itch.
 
I need you to drop me off at the clubhouse this afternoon.
 
I left my bike there.”

Danni hesitated.
 
“Why not wait a few days?
 
By next week you should be feeling better.”

“Can’t wait.
 
We’re going after the Rattlers and I need to be there to help with the planning.”

Danni sat on the arm of the couch.
 
“Why now?
 
You just said a few days ago you didn’t have the numbers to take down the Rattlers.
 
Now you’re ready to take them head on?”

Mercer stopped looking at the TV.
 
He could see she was angry, but he knew she just didn’t understand.

“We were going to wait when we thought there was a limit to how far they would take things.
 
We were going to wait… then they carved me up with a Bowie knife.”

“I get it.
 
You’re hurt and angry, I’ve been there.
 
But you need to use your head. Beating them isn’t worth your life.”

Mercer’s face flushed.
 

“You don’t get it.
 
You didn’t grow up in an MC.
 
Do you know what they’re doing right now?
 
Running guns, selling drugs, making more and more money.
 
I thought we could wait, I thought we could take time until we were stronger, but it can’t wait.
 
They have to be taken down now.”

“Bullshit,” she snapped.
 
“This is about your pride.
 
This is about you being hurt by them.
 
When they came after me, you wanted to attack, but you used your head and waited.”

“And if I’d gone after them then, maybe they wouldn’t have cut me.”

“And maybe you’d be dead.”

They were both standing now, yelling loudly, not caring who overheard.
 

“Danni, this is life in an MC.
 
We fight for what’s ours.
 
And this town belongs to Black Ice.
 
The Rattlers are a virus here and we will take them out.”

“And what happens then?
 
How are you going to take them out?
 
Kill them?
 
What happens when the police come to the door?”

“Then I’ll deal with them.”

“And what happens if you’re behind bars for the rest of your life?”

“Then you’ll be there visiting my incarcerated ass every, just like my Old Lady should.”

“Fuck that and fuck you, Mercer.
 
I’m not going to spend my life waiting on you.
 
I love you and I want to be with you, but I’m not spending the rest of my life alone.”
 
She lowered her voice, pleading now instead of arguing.
 
“We don’t have to be a part of this.
 
We can leave and start over somewhere else.
 
Fuck Rawlins.
 
Let the Rattlers have it.
 
We can take off on your bike and be hundred miles away before dark.”

“That’s not how it works.
 
I’m a member of Black Ice.
 
That means for life, understand?
 
Nothing is going to stop me from my duties to the club.”

Mercer grabbed his jacket and headed for the door.

“Where the hell are you going?” Danni said.

“To the clubhouse.
 
To make our plans to wipe out the Rattlers for good.
 
And I’ll be staying there tonight, so don’t bother waiting up.”

He slammed the door behind him, leaving Danni alone in the apartment.

The next morning, they were riding down the street, bikes roaring loud as possible, sun in their hair.
 
Mercer felt good, better than he had any right to feel.
 
Not with half of him stitched together and Danni pissed off at him.
 
But the Black Ice Motorcycle Club was riding.
 
They didn’t have enough guys or enough guns, but they were together.
 
Three of them on bikes, with Cruz following in the truck.
 
Mercer had to admit, it was a good plan.
 
Cruz said they needed to hit the Rattlers where it the hurt the most—their bank account—and that was exactly what they were going to do.
 

They rode past the bar where Danni worked, and for half a second he thought about stopping in to see how she was doing, but decided against it as they kept on.
 
He felt bad about how he’d left things with her, but she needed to understand the MC life.
 
The club was everything, and that meant sometimes she would have to take a back seat.
 
It wasn’t easy and it wasn’t always fair, but that’s the way it had always been.
 
But he shoved those thoughts out of his head for the moment and concentrated
 

They rode out of town out Route 15, past that weird abandoned carnival, and out another ten miles.
 
When Mercer saw the sign telling him Billings was 100 miles away, they turned down a dirt road and went another half mile.
 
There was a fork in the road, and the men on bikes went left, while Cruz in the van went right.
 

Another two miles down the dirt road, the three of them stopped outside a large barn.
 
It was over a hundred feet tall and painted red with white trim.
 
It was the only structure around for miles and looked like it had been plucked out of a painting, but Mercer knew that inside was something much more sinister than the picturesque facade would have him believe.

A short man with dark hair came out of the door.
 
He was wearing overalls and carried a shotgun.
 
It wasn’t raised, but Mercer knew there were two other guns in the area being pointed at them.
 
If they made any kind of false move, they’d be shot without warning and buried in a shallow grave.
 

“Hep you?” said the short man.
 
His voice was high-pitched and his accent was thick.
 
Even though Mercer had grown up in Tennessee, it took him a second to realize the man had said “help you.”

“Looking for Stevenson.
 
He around anywhere?”

The man spat and said, “You lookin’ at’em.”

Mercer made no move to shake the man’s hand or even take a step towards him.
 
He was playing with fire here and couldn’t make a false move.

“I’m Mercer Hawthorne.
 
We’re from Black Ice MC.
 
We’re looking for guns.”

Stevenson spat again.
 
“Try the gun shop in town.”

Mercer took a breath.
 
He was trying not to lose his temper, but he hated this part of making a new contact.
 
Mercer knew the man had guns and the man knew Mercer wanted powerful and illegal weapons, but they didn’t know each other and didn’t trust each other, so they had to play like they were innocent.

“We’re looking for something bigger than what they carry in gun shops.
 
We need fully automatic guns.
 
And some explosives.”

Stevenson just stared at Mercer without saying a word.

Mercer continued, “We know you have what we need.
 
We also know you sell to the Rattlers.
 
I’m offering you a deal.
 
We will start running your guns from Canada.
 
We’ll bring them in quicker and cheaper.
 
In exchange, you sell to Black Ice exclusively.
 
No more deals with the Rattlers.”

Again, the man said nothing, just spat on the ground again.
 

“Do we have a deal?” asked Mercer.

More silence.
 
Mercer held up his hand and reached into his pocket.
 
Stevenson started to raise his shotgun, but saw that Mercer only had a phone in his hand.
 
Mercer dialed and put the phone to his ear.

“It’s me.
 
Looks like we don’t have a deal.”
 
Mercer looked to Stevenson.

A sharp crack filled the valley, then another.
 
A man fell from a tree, another from a window in the barn.
 
Stevenson’s eyes went wide as his men’s blood spilled on the ground.
 
He started to raise his shotgun, but the three gang members pulled handguns and shot him dead.

Mercer moved to Stevenson and kicked his shot gun away from him, then checked for a pulse.
 
Doc and Red each checked one of the hidden shooters.

“This one’s down,” shouted Red.

“Same here,” said Doc.

Mercer nodded to them and put the phone back to his ear.
 
“Everything looks good down here.
 
You see anybody else?
 
OK, get the van down here, double time.”

A few minutes later a dust cloud appeared on the road, kicked up by Cruz in the van.
 
He pulled up next to the barn and hopped out.

“Told you I was a crack shot,” he said.

Mercer said, “Damn good thing, too.
 
Check out the hardware these guys are packing.
 
Wouldn’t’ve been enough of us left to bury.”

“We gonna put ‘em in the ground?” asked Red.

“No.
 
Let the Rattlers find them here.
 
Or the cops.
 
Let them all know that Black Ice is back for good.”

They opened the barn doors and Doc let out a low whistle.
 
Inside were crates of fully automatic weapons and ammunition.

“Load as much of this as you can into the van.
 
Whatever we don’t need, we’ll sell for cash.
 
This is it, boys. This is exactly what we need to win.”

Danni did what she always did during times of stress, she threw herself into her work.
 
She didn’t stop moving all day long.
 
Serving the customers, pouring drinks, even mopping the floor, she made sure she concentrated on her work and tried not to think about Mercer.
 
She worked all day long, much longer than she was scheduled, just so she wouldn’t have to go back to that damn empty apartment and wonder if he was going to stay a second night at the clubhouse.