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  Luke lies back down with a long sigh. Then he looks over at her and sees the stunned look on her face.

  “Guess you saw the ink then…,” he trails off.

  “I’m no expert here but…that looks like a biker patch.”

  “Guilty as charged! Suicide Kings MC,” he explains.

  “I guess that explains these then,” she says, indicating his handcuffs.

  “They just want to make sure I had nothing to do with last night’s shootout.”

  “Did you?” Kayla asks.

  “I was an innocent bystander.”

  “Sorry hun, but I don't think anyone’s going to believe that. Hey, I gotta go. We’re really slammed right now. It was nice to work with you Mr. Madsen, best of luck, the nurse will be in shortly to give you your discharge paperwork.”

  “Later, Doc.”

  Kayla hurries out of the room, muttering to herself. “And to think I was almost attracted to him…”

  Chapter Three

  Hostage

  It bothers Luke to no end that he has to be wheeled out of the hospital by another nurse, but that is their protocol. Anyone with an injury like his has to be escorted out by wheelchair. The second they cross the threshold of the ER’s double doors, he hops out of the chair, wincing a little as his movements stretch his stitches a little too much. He pulls out his cell phone to call a cab when he looks across the ER parking lot and sees a familiar face; it's the doc who patched him up.

  Doctor Underwood is crossing the parking lot holding a cup of coffee or something. It’s time to get the doc’s digits, he thinks to himself.

  Wearing a sly grin, Luke starts across the lot when suddenly a car near the doctor opens and a large unruly-looking guy gets out and confronts her. Immediately, their conversation goes from 0-60 in two seconds. Kayla starts screaming and the big man is shouting and gesturing like an Italian woman. Luke can’t make out what’s being said, but clearly the doctor is terrified. That’s all Luke needs to spur him into action.

  When he was in Afghanistan, he saw the ruthless oppression of women all around him—the shit always made him sick. On more than one occasion, after hearing of a public stoning, his unit was actually able to administer vigilante justice on the spot and it had been very gratifying. His mother had always taught him to treat women with respect.

  Before Luke can close the space between them, the big man draws back his hand and slaps the doc across her gorgeous face. It’s like slow motion. His hand slices through the air, striking her cheek causing her head to snap around. Luke hears her shriek, and the force is so great she spins around and falls to the asphalt.

  Luke reaches the big man just as he's about to cock his leg back for a second strike with his boot. Luke lunges between the man and the doctor and strikes out with his own fist catching the man square in the throat. He can actually feel the crunch of the man's windpipe as it collapses under his fist. The guy’s head snaps back, his eyes roll up in his head and his knees begin to buckle as he grabs at his throat gasping and wheezing for air. As the big man slowly collapses, Luke leaps forward, driving his right knee upward into the man’s face. The force of the blow actually picks the bastard up a foot off the ground before he falls back onto the asphalt, blood erupting from his nose like a pitiful volcano.

  Luke grabs his head by the hair with his left hand and slips his other hand underneath the man’s chin. Just a quick jerking motion with his hands and the man’s neck will be broken.

  “No!” Kayla screams. “You’ll kill him!”

  Luke stops mid-motion. “That’s kinda the point.”

  “He didn’t mean to hit me,” Kayla protests. “It’s just that I provoke him…on purpose sometimes…”

  “I watched him get out of his car, Doc. I saw you talking, and him just blowing his top and hitting you so hard you nearly could've died. He deserves whatever I give him.”

  “He’s not that bad of a man. It's not his fault.”

  “Isn't that some bullshit, not his fault he hits women...” Luke sniffs.

  The man on the ground begins to moan and move about. Luke looks down at him and considers his next move.

  “No, he’s had enough,” Kayla says.

  “Who is this dirt bag to you, anyway?” Luke asks.

  Kayla winces and hangs her head in shame. “My ex- boyfriend…He’s actually a Harbinger. You know who the Harbingers are, right?”

  “I do, but where’s his cut?”

  “He doesn’t wear it very often anymore. That new sheriff told the clubs if he ever saw anyone wearing a cut, he’d rip it off, burn it, and throw them in jail.”

  “And just like that he doesn’t wear his cut? What a fucking pussy! Someone wants to take my cut, they’re gonna have to kill me first and peel it off my dead body. Sheriff or no sheriff.”

  Kayla smiles in spite of herself. This guy’s pretty confident and he appears to have a sense of pride and honor that seems to be lost on most...even if he is a loose cannon.

  “Thanks for the rescue, Mr. Madsen—"

  "Luke." He cuts in.

  "Right, thanks Luke. But please don't hurt him anymore, let him go." Kayla pleads.

  “Fine." Luke concedes. "Hey, you wanna grab a coffee when you get off?”

  She smiles. “Sure.”

  “Great, when do you get off?" He asks hopefully. "I’ll pick you up and we can go to Starbucks or something.”

  “I’m sorry, you asked if I wanted coffee and I do…but I can get it myself.” She says cheekily.

  “That’s cold, Doc… icy cold. But it’s okay, I’ll catch you another time.”

  Luke turns on his heels, leaving the big man lying on the road in front of the emergency department, and walks back to the row of taxis waiting for fares. He gets in the first one.

  “2025 Hegenberger road, please.”

  Kayla watches as he drives off, wondering if she'll ever see him again, as the ED techs come out with a stretcher to scoop her abusive ex off the pavement.

  Chapter Four

  Suicide Kings Clubhouse…

  As the taxi pulls up to the club house, a tall, lanky man, named Carter, greets Luke as he gets out. They embrace, and then walk around to the side of the clubhouse to talk.

  “Good to see you’re in one piece, Luke,” observes Carter.

  “You too, man. So how’d it go?”

  “We got a little problem here.”

  “I take it my father’s alive?”

  “He is…and he’s got himself a hostage.”

  “Dammit! How the fuck did that happen? Do you have any idea the trouble that’s gonna cause if he talks?”

  “Of course, I do,” Carter replies.

  “We have to get rid of him before my father gets in there and gets him talking,” Luke says.

  “Yeah, that’s gonna be difficult,” Carter replies. “Your dad’s in there with him right now.”

  “Well, fuck! What the hell are we doing standing around here then?” Luke asks. “What if he talks?”

  “Relax, dude. I got one of my guys in there, too, with strict instructions to shoot if he starts to talk.”

  “Fuck,” Luke swears. “Carter, you do realize the shitstorm this is gonna create if your guy just caps him, right? My father’s gonna come after him and there’s nothing either of us can do to stop him.”

  “My guy knows the consequences if he has to shoot the guy and he’s prepared to give his life for the club.”

  “Then he’s a good man, Carter. Let’s go in there and make sure he doesn’t have to give his life up just yet. Thanks for the heads up, I didn't wanna walk in there blind.”

  “No problem, man.”

  It takes a moment for Luke’s eyes to adjust to the dim lighting in the room. Standing behind the bar is a single prospect waiting to serve the brothers.

  “Hey Luke, good to see you’re okay.” The prospect hands Luke and Carter each a beer.

  Then men take the beverages and walk to the back of the clubhouse. There’s a thick,
soundproof door with a huge Suicide Kings logo painted on it. Luke and Carter open the door and step in.

  Luke’s mouth nearly drops open when he sees his father’s hostage is Kellan, one of the soldiers who served under Luke during his last two tours in Afghanistan. Luke hired Kellan and five other veterans to dress up as Harbingers in an attempt to capture his father. The operation had gone terribly wrong and as a result of that, his fellow Ranger will likely die a very painful death.

  The smell of blood, sweat, and fear permeates the air, radiating from the center of the room where Kellan is tied to a chair. Every stitch of clothing has been removed and his body already shows signs that Luke’s father, Gunnar, has been working him over. Luke studies his father as he walks up. His father glances at him, without speaking, and goes on to select the next instrument of torture. An array of knives, pliers, sanders, and other shop tools, which can inflict horrific pain, lie on a table next to him.

  Kellan is bleeding from the gunshot wounds on his right upper arm and left thigh. Both appear to be flesh wounds. There’s a piece of duct tape covering his mouth, leading Luke to believe that his father is just torturing him for fun and not to find out any information; at least not yet.

  The hostage has a nasty-looking third degree burn on his right upper shoulder and several smaller burn marks on his legs and stomach. Laying on the floor is a welding torch. His face is swollen and purple with bruises. His left eye is completely shut. He looks like a fucking mess.

  Having selected his next instrument, Gunnar sets his chair between the man’s legs. He holds up a pair of pruning shears in front of Kellan’s one good eye. It’s abundantly clear to him and everyone else in the room what he intends to do with the shears. Gunnar gets out of the chair and walks around behind the man where his hands are held fast with duct tape. He places the cool edge of the metal shears against the palm of Kellan's hand. His reaction is immediate. His muffled screams of terror manage to escape the tape over his mouth and Luke can just make out the word ‘please’.

  Luke studies Kellan’s face, and then when he has the man’s attention, he almost imperceptibly shakes his head. He doesn’t know any other way to communicate to him not to talk. Suddenly the man’s body goes rigid as he arches back against the chair. He opens his mouth so far and screams so loud the tape actually comes loose. The man’s face is a mask of sheer agony as he begins to rock violently from side to side and back and forth. Two more brothers have to step in, grabbing his shoulders and head to make sure he stays put in his chair.

  Luke’s father walks back around in front of Kellan, and he holds up a small trophy in front of his face; it’s his bloody thumb. Gunnar’s hands, as well as the front of his shirt, are covered in the man’s warm blood. Gunnar lurches forward, grabbing the man’s hair in his left hand and he yanks his head back. As Kellan's mouth pops open, he shoves in the thumb. Before the man can spit it out, Gunnar forces his mouth shut and places a fresh piece of duct tape over it. Luke's father waits for the man to stop moaning before he does anything else. Then after a few minutes, he gets to what he's after.

  “When I remove the tape, you’re going to tell me who sent you and who the intended target was. You’re also going to tell me everything else I wanna know or I’m going to remove your fingers one by one and make you eat them. But…if you cooperate and give me truthful answers, I’ll put a bullet in your head and you won’t have to suffer anymore. Either you talk or we’re going to drag this out for a week. Have I made myself clear?”

  Kellan nods his bloody head.

  Luke's father removes the tape with a quick tear and the man spits out his thumb. Luke casually reaches for the 9mm he has tucked into the waistband of his jeans. If the man begins to talk, either he or Carter’s man is going to shoot him.

  Luke stands on the outside of the circle of bikers gathered to watch Gunnar’s show, and goes unnoticed when he flicks off the safety and slips his gun out, keeping it behind his body.

  Luke’s mind races as he watches his father. What reason does Luke have for shooting their captive before he can talk? If he doesn’t come up with a good excuse, the brothers will get suspicious.

  The sound of flesh striking flesh catches Luke’s attention again. Gunnar's punch levels Kellan so hard he rocks backwards and the chair falls to the floor with a loud crack. Two brothers reach down and pick the man back up.

  Gunnar puts his face inches from Kellan's and repeats his question.

  “Who sent you?!" He screams. "Who was your target?” He’s enraged now.

  In fact, Luke is beginning to think his father just might lose control and kill the man himself. Luke glances around at his other brothers. Their expressions are mixed. The older brothers, the ones most loyal to his father seem to be supporting their leader's actions. Some even look like they’d like to take a turn on the hostage. The younger guys, on the other hand, who are closer to Luke's age and ideology, look disgusted with the proceedings.

  One particular brother, Marty, is watching the whole show nervously. He keeps shuffling his feet around and every once in a while reaches into his jacket pocket like he’s checking to make sure his gun is still there. He must be Carter’s guy. The tension in the air is getting thicker and thicker, to the point it’s becoming intolerable. This has got to end soon. The longer this goes on, the more it’s going to divide the club.

  Once more Gunnar takes his pruning shears and goes back around behind Kellan. The effect on him is immediate; he rocks violently to the side trying to spill himself on the floor.

  “I’ll talk! I’ll tell you everything just not another finger…” He wails and sobs in terror. “I’ll talk…It was your gu—”

  The enclosed space echoes under the deafening sound of a large caliber gun going off. Marty, who was standing right next to Luke, had whipped his gun out and fired a single shot, striking the hostage in the forehead.

  Gunnar staggers back, dropping the shears. His face and chest are bathed in the spray of fresh blood.

  He looks livid.

  “Who the fuck did that?” he roars.

  The other brothers are in shock and seething with anger. They were just about to get the information they came for and just like that it’s gone forever. Gunnar turns on Marty. He’s a terrifying sight. His eyes are shooting flames, blood and gore dripping from his face, mouth open and shouting above the din.

  “Why the fuck did you just do that, Marty?” he rages.

  Gunnar’s fists are clenching and unclenching and he looks like he’s about to strike Marty. In fact, several brothers are positioning themselves between the men to prevent just that. If Gunnar attacks Marty it’s going to further divide the club and that’s something most brothers do not want to see happen. Luke notices Carter has moved over to his side.

  “Do you guys have a plan B?” Luke whispers in his ear.

  “Not really.”

  “Shit, this is gonna get ugly fast!”

  “What did he just say?” Gunnar asks the brothers gathered around. “Did anyone hear what he said, before this fool blew his head off?”

  “He said guys…your guys, I think,” says Mack, our Sergeant at Arms.

  “I heard that too,” echo several other voices.

  “You guys don’t get it!” Luke announces over the rest of the voices.

  “What are you talking about?” Gunnar asks.

  “As much as you like torture,” Luke begins. “We both know that pain never gets you the truth. You put someone in enough pain and he’ll say the quickest lie he can think of to stop the pain. Five minutes with him and we’d never trust each other again. Marty did us all a huge favor.”

  Gunnar doesn’t look completely convinced, but most of the other guys do. “Prospects!” he yells.

  The door opens and three of the Suicide Kings prospects appear. They’re not prepared for what they see. One of them even turns and vomits in a trash can.

  Gunnar glares at them with a disgusted look on his face. “You guys need to make the body dis
appear and clean up this room.”

  The prospects jump to it, including the guy who just blew chunks.

  “Officers…conference room now!” Gunnar announces.

  A few minutes later Gunnar, Luke, the Sergeant at Arms, Treasurer, and Secretary are all seated at a giant oak table. The table is one huge slab of highly polished wood with the Suicide Kings patch carved into it. It’s an impressive piece of furniture.

  Gunnar pounds the gavel and opens the meeting.

  “So, am I the only one worried about what that guy said before Marty blew his head off?”

  Chapter Five

  Running Guns

  “There he is!” Carter announces.

  Three men astride enormous tricked out Harleys are positioned in a blind spot around a tight curve in the road just outside town. A lone biker from the Harbingers motorcycle club flies by. He’s oblivious to the danger as he passes them at a cool 65 miles an hour.

  The three waiting bikers’ engines spring to life with an ear-splitting roar. Suddenly, four huge motorcycles are cruising along the highway towards Stinson beach. Once they get to a particularly straight stretch, Carter and Marty pull up on either side of the Harbinger while Luke hangs back. After a minute, Luke reaches down and retrieves a sawn-off shotgun from its makeshift holster. The Browning .410 pump action shotgun with a highly polished, modified walnut stock and a shortened 12 barrel is easily the weapon of choice for Luke when a handgun clearly is not suitable for the job.

  Just before the next bend in the road both Carter and Marty back off and Luke speeds up until he’s about 10 feet from the enemy biker. Luke aims the gun carefully at the bike’s exposed back tire and pulls the trigger.

  The fat back tire explodes and literally disintegrates before Luke’s eyes. It all happens so fast he almost doesn’t have time to recover and avoid the pieces of rubber and motorcycle parts as the chopper comes apart at eighty miles an hour. The Harbinger hits the pavement hard and his helmet strikes the unyielding surface with an audible crack. His body, with his limbs flailing, slides and rolls until it comes to a stop against the guard rail.