Savage: Iron Dragons MC (45 page)

He pulls away from me and walks over to the cabinet full of green and blue nursing scrubs. He throws on the shirt as he looks at me, his eyes totally devoid of any emotion I can read. “Then this is it. It’s for the best.”

“No, Tank. No. Please.” He walks over to me and pulls an arm around my waist. He yanks me to the door, my body spinning and wheeling from his force. In that moment, I have no idea what I can do but fight back. He had to understand that I can’t lose both him and those Aztecs I knew and loved.

The door opens and a burst of light pops up through the cracks. Tank lingers as he pushes a strand of my golden brown hair from my face. I reach up towards his chin, my mouth open as I try to say his name one last time, but he stops me with a kiss. The tender, warm lips push deeply into me as I try to catch my breath.

And then, the door closes behind me. I’m left staring out into an empty hallway. My hand still rests on the handle as I cry out one last time, “Tank, please!” There is no answer, only the sound of the stairwell door behind me opening. A nurse eyes me suspiciously, and I recover quickly. “I’m just looking for the stairs.”

“Right here, ma’am. That’s just a supply closet.” If he only knew. I thank him with a nod of my head and follow his lead through the large metal door. My knees buckle under me as the weight of what just happens hits me like a ton of bricks. I collapse down onto the cold hard stairs in front of the small window opening that faces directly into the closet. And from my nearly closed eyelids, I watch past the stream of tears as Tank makes his escape.

Chapter 21: Unanswered

“Call Guzman and tell his men to assemble at the clubhouse. We’ve got work to do, and we’ve got to get it done quick. Send Tomas and another man to the hospital and tell him not to leave the ICU waiting room. He should be looking out for a girl with brown, shoulder-length hair, tan skin, and a blue dress. He’ll know who she is. She’s not to leave the hospital unless I give the all-clear. And if any Aztec tries to get in, they’re allowed to shoot. No questions asked.”

I give my orders as quietly as I can as I sneak past the guards standing ground at the hospital entrance. No one gives me a second look in my scrubs. I’m just another hospital worker trying to get out for his smoke break. Still, I duck a bit and hide my face behind a bouquet of flowers a hospital visitor is bringing out to his car.    

When I make it outside the lobby, I scan the parking lot for more eyes and ears. There’s a few police officers near the gates, but nothing to be concerned about. They all look passable. And then, I see it. The white and black squad car with the sirens on stand out like a sore thumb against the rest of the civilian cars. I can just make out the figure of someone sitting in the back seat with his head tucked down.

I walk nonchalantly towards my bike and wheel it towards a line of cars parked nearest to the cop. It’s just out of view of the few officers standing by the open door as they take down the man’s information. I grab my phone and text Rafael the location: “Distract them,” I type furiously, as I listen for the sound of his vintage Harley to roar past.

When he does, it’s in a blaze of smoke. He’s removed his tailpipe causing billows of gray and black to flow out of his motorcycle. To add to the madness, he does some loops around the car with his tires screeching and crying at each hairpin turn. The cops look at one another, completely bewildered, as they walk towards the squad car in front of them to get a better view.

This is my chance. I pick up my chopper and walk it slowly towards the car where the man in the back seat is looking more delighted than terrified. Most likely, he thinks Rafael is one of his own. But when he sees my face, his smug smile twists. He tries to yell, but I’m on him before his mouth can open fully. I punch him hard with my fist, causing his head to splatter and bounce against the leather seats. The blow knocks him out immediately, giving me time to hoist him up over my shoulder and to use a bungee strap to tie him to my back. The cops only give me a brief glance, as I ride the motorcycle into the haze and smog with the man flopping around in my bucket.

I meet Rafael at the front of the hospital parking lot. Sirens are blasting in the background just in time for the bewildered officers to notice they’ve got an escapee. I turn to my partner and say quickly, “You ready to ride?” The man nods at me and I place my helmet on and power up the engine to a deafening roar of fury. I take the lead with Rafael only a few feet behind me, watching the man on my back as he starts to come to.

We don’t have far to go, but we still blaze through every red light, swerving as pedestrians try crossing in front. Above, a helicopter swarms, causing all my alarm bells to ring. I have to think fast or the police will be on us at any second. I make a quick hand sign to Rafael before leaping onto the sidewalk under the cover of a pergola. We dive into an underground parking lot, avoiding the closing gates and the thunderous speed bumps. Security guards dive out of their booths in an attempt to stop us, but we’re already out of view.

Rafael rides next to me and points out the one-way exit where the cops are most likely waiting. Instead, we slow near the third floor exit to the alley. There’s a bank of service elevators just in the corner, a perfect fit for two cycles. The silver metal doors swing open with a thud, and we load ourselves up tightly against the walls.

Rafael leans over and says loudly, “The bastard’s waking. Want me to do anything about it?”

“Take him out.”

Rafael reaches behind him into his backpack and pulls a tire iron out. I feel the man’s head whip against my jacket. I turn back to Rafael who is wiping the blood and hair off of his weapon of choice. “Damn. Don’t get blood on this. I just washed it.”

“Sorry, Prez.” He grins at me, as the doors open to the outside. The alley is empty, and all but deserted save a few homeless men lounging outside. I again take the lead position, this time going slowly. If I was going to get out of this mess and away from the helicopter’s cameras, I had to be cool about this. I couldn’t look like a guilty party on the move.

I take the alley straight down for several blocks, stopping at each intersection to scan for anyone who would take notice of us. Finally, I get brave, pulling us back onto the main stretch of streets and following the flow of traffic. I don’t pull anything slick and stick to the civilian biker code. No passing. No speeding. No revving up the engines. I look like a normal guy having a bit of a joyride with a buddy on his back. Albeit a buddy with a gaping head wound. 

At our last red light, Rafael and I watch smugly as a parade of cops pass by at the intersection, not even aware that three cars back were the boys they were looking for. A car pulls alongside us and a balding man smoking a short cigar yells, “What’s going on out there? They closed down all the roads?”

Rafael turns and smiles at him coyly. “Beats us. Sounds like someone on the run. Hopefully they get out of town. I always like a good police chase.” I do my best not to laugh, but as the man rolls up his window and the red turns to green, every bit of me howls in celebration. We’re in the clear, for now. And there isn’t going to be any copper to stop us.

The clubhouse is packed with bikes and cars we don’t instantly recognize. Men speaking quickly in Spanish linger outside the door smoking cigarettes and pointing at us as we park. One runs out and helps untie the man off of my bike. I order him and the others to place him in the back of an unmarked black van underneath a hatch we designed especially for this purpose.

Inside, my leaders are gathering up info. They are hunched over their phones and peering at maps as if it will answer some unknown questions about where the Aztecs are and where they plan on hitting when the word gets out we have one of their men. In the distance, I hear the police scanner.

“What are the boys in blue saying?” I ask as I grab a water bottle from the fridge and sit at my place at the long wood table.

“They think it’s the Aztecs taking their man back. But they’re looking for you, too. Thompson ID’d you. Said you weren’t involved in the incident, but that you were a person of interest. You’re gonna have to get out of here for now in case they come looking.”

“What about that kid, Tomas? He make it to the hospital?” I couldn’t care less about the details on me. What was first on my mind was Sierra and keeping her safe.

One of my enforcers chimed in, “He texted a couple minutes ago. Says he had to park the bike outside the hospital and go undercover. No patches. Cops stopped several bikes coming into the parking lot and were holding them for questioning. But he made it upstairs and is sitting in the ICU.”

Geno, my third-in-command, leans back in his chair as he studies me and says, “Why we protecting these Aztec bitches? If they are shooting at their own kind, isn’t it better for us?”

I leap to my feet and grab the large, aging man by his collar. I tower over him as I lose myself. My voice shouts, “Don’t you ever call her a bitch again. She ain’t an Aztec.”

The rest of my men are staring at me as if I have lost my damn mind. I probably have. There has never been an instance where I insisted on protecting anyone—let alone a woman—who wasn’t a club member or affiliate. Now I was daring to go so far as to send needed manpower out there to watch over her, and I attacked a man for having the gall to call her a name. No doubt, in their eyes, their leader went soft fast.

Rafael deflects fast for me. “Where we bringing the shooter, boss?”

“We’re going across the border with Guzman’s men. If we’re going to do it, we’re going to do it on their turf. The Aztecs wouldn’t dare cross lines if they know Guzman’s men are out hunting them. Tell them we’re traveling to Ciudad de Flor. We’ll need at least ten of them to stay back here in case the Aztecs decide to get stupid. While I’m gone, Geno is in command.”

***

“Sierra, what’s going on? I can’t get a hold of Anthony or his wife, and I’m worried about the kids.” Her voice was trembling through the machines. The nurse had given her an oxygen max, no doubt because she was hyperventilating after the near-miss shooting. 

“Shhh…,” I say as I stand to stroke her hair. “Don’t worry about it. Everything is under control.”

“How could you say that! There are armed guards outside the door, bullet holes in the wall, and Anthony’s not answering texts.” She looks at me completely floored. “What are we going to do, Sierra?”

I look at her in a total loss of words. I don’t know what to say. I feel like the right answer is that Tank will take care of it, but as I look up at the television now playing a news report of an escaped shooter, I realize that maybe I am trusting the wrong person.

Tank is on the warpath. He’s got the guns, the men, and the energy to destroy everything we love. And by going after Abe and the Aztecs, he is only putting us in further danger. So instead of answering Carmen, I walked towards the door of her room and shut it tight, along with the blinds. I then head out towards the nurses’ station and request that she be transferred to a different hospital.

The nurse looks at me, blinking wildly. “Ma’am, that’s not possible.”

“Did I imagine it or did your staff let in an armed shooter who tried to kill us just an hour ago? And now that man has escaped?” I am yelling. I know that I am yelling, but I am tired of being nice. This was Sierra taking action, and she wasn’t going to put up with any shit right now. All that mattered was getting Carmen to safety.

A police guard hears me and rushes to my side. Before he can attempt to calm me down, I explain in terse but firm terms, “Carmen will be moving to St. Mary’s Hospital on Fourth Street. I expect that your men will have an armed escort for the ambulance ready to go. This needs to happen immediately.”

“Ma’am, that’s not exactly what the chief—”

I turn to him, peering directly into his eyes. “Frankly, sir. I don’t give a damn. Your entire force is one lawsuit away of becoming bankrupt after your incompetence today. We get Carmen to St. Mary’s within the next hour or I start calling the press. Do you understand officer?”

He’s stunned at my force. I’m just a tiny girl with a mellow voice. But the more I order these people around, the more I feel what it’s like to be Tank. Act first, deal with crap later. Take no prisoners. The police officer nods at the nurse who begins collecting her coworkers and stacks of paperwork. As I follow the officer back, I listen as he calls in my orders to the command center. We are getting out of here.

I walk back into Carmen’s room, feeling more assured than ever. Carmen’s impressed at my take-charge attitude, and she watches, almost mesmerized, as I start grabbing her belongings from the dressers and tables and placing them in my large backpack. The ring of my phone breaks the silence.

I know who it is before I can even answer it. “I can’t talk right now,” I say, as I focus on folding Carmen’s robes.

“Sierra, I need you to hear me out.” Tank’s voice sounds distant. There’s a slight echo, and the sound of muffled voices shouting. I try my best not to read too much into it. Whatever is going on is no longer my problem. I am done with this.

“No, Tank. You made your choice clear. You go fight your little war, and I’ll fight mine.”

“What is that supposed to m—?”

I hang up with a click, turning off my phone for extra assurance. The police were here along with the EMTs. It was time to make our own escape.

***

“Who sent you, punk?! You heard me! Who sent you?!” Rafa kicks hard at the body on the ground, withering in pain.

“Fuck you, man.” The young man spits on his shoe, a mix of blood, sweat, and saliva. It only enrages Rafael more as he lands another boot toe into his jaw.

“Tie him up!” I order the men in English and Spanish. This little fucker isn’t getting out of here today.