Cap and I pull Pres off Maddog, and Scalpel zip ties the fucker so he can’t do anything. Well, that is a stupid statement on my part because the man is out for the count anyway, so how the hell is he going to cause a problem?
Rides, Hot Rod, and Bowie saunter into the bedroom. “Ah, good to see you have it all under control, Pres,” Rides states as he takes in the fucker on the floor.
“Where’s Whistle?” Cap asks.
“Keeping watch. But the street has blacked out. All the lights have gone out in the houses, and all doors were bolted I imagine. They all have gone quiet, being careful to mind their own business.” Rides walks over to Maddog and grabs a handful of his hair. Lifting his face so he can look at him. “Yeah, he’s a weasel alright. You just got to look at him to see he’s a total waste of breathing.”
We all nod and I, along with Hot Rod, grab ahold of Maddog and make our way downstairs. “I’ve called Robert with the van. He said it’s all quiet, so he doesn’t think anyone will touch the hogs. But let’s not hang around. If anyone touches my ride, I’ll cut off everything that they have and make them eat it,” Rides snarls leading the way out the front door of the place.
Robert is on his way back to the clubhouse with Maddog trussed up in the back of the van. The men in the house were all given the option to disappear or die. Of course, they all chose to run for their lives. Good thing, in my opinion, because the acid pit has been busy of late.
We discussed whether we should light up the place so anything in here like his stash of drugs would go up in flames or search the place and find it all. “I reckon we torch the place,” folding my arms across my chest as I speak.
“Yeah, I do as well. I’d rather we did not get caught here with a stack of drugs. It would give us hard time if caught.” Bowie flicks a lighter he has retrieved from his cut.
Once we all agree that torching the place is the best idea we run to different rooms and light her up. Back outside we wait just long enough to know the place is not going to be saved. Neighbors have come out of their homes but are not speaking to any of us. Wary, which is wise.
Pres looks around the street, then places his hands on his hips, right as he shouts to anyone in earshot. “Anyone who wants to take up supplying drugs will be the next ones we take down. We are the Restless Demons MC, and you all know our reputation. Don’t piss me off or you’ll regret it.” Nobody responds. In fact, many turn and re-enter their homes, closing the door firmly behind them.
We dash back to our hogs once we know the place is not going to be saved and hear the fire trucks approaching. Nobody has touched the bikes. That’s a blessing because the last thing we want is Bowie to go crazy with his fucking knife.
Once we arrived back at the clubhouse with Maddog safely in the shed, I checked to see when Pres is intending to finish the asshole before I head home to Cilla.
“Tomorrow we will visit the asshole in the shed. Ian and Spencer are watching over him tonight. I would put a bullet straight into him, but we need to know if he has anymore dealers in town. Where he got his drugs from, because we don’t want the Cartel on our doorstep,” Pres isn’t really worried about any of the Cartel’s as he has enough shit on all of them that operate in America. It’s one of the reasons our government wanted us to work with them.
“Okay, I’m going to check on Cilla. I want to make sure she’s not overdoing it. She was going to the bridal place to see about something for the wedding.” I start to walk out of Pres’ office when he speaks.
“Jet told me something about today, so tell Cilla I’ll be wanting a word with her.”
“Okay, Pres, no problem.” I head out of the clubhouse and set off for home. It’s been a long day and I’m ready to chill out with my woman. I want to talk to my kid too, because when he or she is born they've gotta know who I am and recognizing my voice is the right move as far as I see it.
I can’t wait for Cilla to have a nice round belly I can kiss and talk to, where I can feel the baby kicking and moving. Awesome, I can’t wait.
Chapter 31
CILLA
This morning Finger followed me to work after Tracker had called him to the clubhouse early. Seems Finger had to see I arrived safely at work before he headed out to see what was going on, or so he told me, but I have a feeling he knows what is happening, he’s just not saying.
Soon into my shift, Jet appeared, looking tired and disheveled. We made him breakfast and filled him full of black coffee before he looked bright-eyed and ready for the day.
“I have Miranda meeting us at the clubhouse after you finish work, Cilla,” Jet advises as I pass him a piece of apple pie.
“Cool. Maybe we’ll get it all planned and I can stop thinking about it. Maybe Mason and I should just run away and get married.”
“Hell, no, Cilla. Pres loves this shit, and he’s gonna want to strut you down the aisle.” Jet laughs at his own comment, “What do you guess he’s gonna want your ghost friends to come to the wedding too?”
I can’t help but giggle at the thought of Tracker being followed by Bono, Tank, and Pyro, and the three of them acting like clowns. I can imagine something ridiculous happening if only Tracker could see it, too. He would be impressed and delighted, I’m sure.
Climbing out of the truck in front of the clubhouse, I see Miranda sitting in her vehicle, grabbing what looks like a notepad and pen. Wonder where her tablet is? I thought she’d sleep with that thing stuck to her hand.
I tap on the vehicle window, and Miranda looks up giving me a bright smile. She quickly opens the door and hops out, “Hi, Cilla. Are you ready to show me where this wedding is happening?”
“Sure am. Follow me.”
We walk around the back of the clubhouse, with Jet sticking close I might add. Miranda is looking quietly at the ground, the building, and as yet not taking any notes.
Positioning us so Miranda can see where the wedding is going to be held, I point. “That is where we are going to get married. I’m not sure I want an archway with flowers if I’m honest with you, Miranda. It feels the same old…you know what I mean? Everyone would do that, and I would rather we did something a little different.”