sports bag as he watched several limousines pass through the electronic gate into Damien’s estate. He caught a glimpse of bikers roaming around inside. Some were there to provide security and showed their respect for the bosses by keeping their distance.
At two o’clock, Jack used his new cellphone to call Natasha.
“I want you to know that I really love you,” he said.
“That’s nice. I love you, too,” replied Natasha. “Good news about Danny.”
“Yes. Good news. I have to go, but…”
“But what?”
“Just wanted you to know how much I really love you.”
“Jack? What is it? Something is going on…. You’re not doing anything that could put you … away, are you?”
“Don’t talk that way on the phone. I would die before I ever broke that promise.”
“Okay, sorry. I love you, too.”
Jack picked up the sports bag and crept to the rear of Damien’s home. He scaled the stone wall surrounding the back of Damien’s property and dropped down into the grounds.
A biker who had been monitoring security cameras inside the home ran into the backyard. Damien was speaking intensely to a group of over twenty men. Anger and talk of revenge was rampant. Silence descended when the biker told Damien that there was an intruder.
Jack strode toward the group. He saw two laser beams dancing over his heart and idly wondered how many more were on the back of his head. The group parted slightly as Damien walked up to him. The rest of the men exchanged glances. They sensed that Jack was an outsider and circled him like wolves around a farm dog.
“You got your fuckin’ balls walkin’ in here!” screamed Damien.
Jack looked at the group and said, “My name is Jack Taggart. I’m a cop. The cop who was responsible for killing five of your brothers yesterday.”
He took their moment of disbelief and shock to look Damien in the eye and say, “Out of respect for you, I brought you this.” He handed him the sports bag.
The wolves recovered from their shock and moved in for the kill. They stopped when Damien put up his hand before unzipping the sports bag and looking inside. Seconds later, he pulled out five sets of colours. The jackets belonging to T-Bone and Booger only had the bottom rocker. Wizard’s colours were badly burned but were still recognizable.
“You pick today to commit suicide?” asked Damien.
Jack looked at the angry faces and said, “Wizard, Rolly, and Thumper tried to kill my family, my partner’s family … and then tried to kill my partner and me. Maybe the rules have changed, but I think —”
A biker grabbed Jack by the throat and said, “Guess I’ll finish what Wiz started!”
“Let him finish!” Damien demanded.
Jack was released. He continued. “I think that T-Bone and Booger were following orders from Wizard. I also believe that Wizard was following orders from someone outside the club.” He saw several of the men look at Damien, who continued to stare at Jack.
“I believe that because I know Damien,” said Jack. “If he wanted us dead, we would be. He’s proved that to me already, which is why I respect him enough to return the colours and take whatever you dish out. I know if Damien wants me killed, I will be. I don’t want to try and lead a life and start a family, wondering every day if there’s a bomb in my car. If you intend to kill me, then do it now.”
Everyone stood in silence, looking back and forth from Damien to Jack. Damien nodded his head, and one of the bikers providing security approached and used an electronic wand to search Jack.
“Clean, except for this,” said the biker, taking the cellphone out of Jack’s pocket and handing it to Damien.
“Check the perimeter for a five-block radius and let me know,” said Damien, before dropping the cellphone in the pool. “Oops,” he said.
Minutes later, Jack was roughly brought into the house and hauled down into the basement, where he was placed on a stool beside a workbench. Five strikers stayed to ensure that he didn’t move. Jack spotted the electric drill on the workbench and thought about Stallion. What goes around, comes around. He checked his watch. It was 2:30.
At 4:25, Damien came downstairs, along with two other bikers. He gave a nod of his head and the five guards backed away.
“So you did come alone,” commented Damien.
Jack nodded.
“Yesterday … tell us how they died.”
Jack related what happened at the front of Sid’s home and in the foyer.
“How did dat Wizard die?” asked one of the bikers with a thick French accent.
Jack looked him in the eye and said, “The official version is that he caught fire on his way back to torch me.”
The two bikers looked at Damien. He gestured with his head and the three of them walked away a short distance to talk privately. Moments later, they returned.
“What about Thumper?” asked Damien.
“My girlfriend slashed his throat with a scalpel.”
“No shit?” said Damien, sounding surprised.
Jack said, “Yes, she’s quite a woman.” For a second, he almost forgot where he was as he thought about Natasha.
“If Booger had given himself up, would you have let him live?” asked Frenchie.
“I knew he was a striker who probably didn’t know the rules, but at the same time I didn’t know if my fiancée and the girl had been hurt. Either way, he messed with them. If given the opportunity, I would have finished him off.”
The two bikers glared at him, then looked at Damien, who said, “Yeah, that’s pretty well how Sid Bishop told it.”
The comment was not lost on Jack. He knows where Bishop is!
Damien looked down at Jack and said, “Okay, sit here. It’s not us three who decide if you live. We’re all taking a vote on it. Get you a beer while you’re waiting?”
“No, thanks.”
As they were leaving, Frenchie asked Damien, “You offer dat pig a beer?”
“This is strictly business. Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be hospitable.”
Jack remained on the stool as the strikers moved back into position.
It was three hours later when Damien returned, this time by himself. “Leave us!” he barked. The five strikers promptly went upstairs.
“Looks like it’s your lucky day,” said Damien. “You’re going to live.”
“It
