The Biker's Fate Chapter 359

Devon

With nothing I could do for Dash, I had no choice but to head back to the motel with another ass chewing from Doc to look forward to. I was returning empty-handed in the information department, and only managed to succeed in having my ass handed to me by two very angry women.

How the fuck did my life get so complicated?

These were the words repeating in my head as I rode to our makeshift compound where we were preparing for war with The Dixie Mafia, the Russian Mafia, and a shadow organization funding their operations in Savannah.

Fuck me… I was just supposed to help construct a few buildings, not go to war.

I arrived at the motel at just after seven o' clock to find everyone waiting for me in my room.

"How's Dash?" Doc asked as soon as I walked in.

"I dunno, the nurse wouldn't let me see him and then Willow showed up and…" I raised both eyebrows.

"Alright, we'll have to deal with all that later. I know we're all concerned about Dash, but right now, we have other pressing matters, so let's focus on the task at hand; figuring out what the fuck we're gonna do about tonight's meeting."

"We have to call it off," Hatch said. "The Dixie guys said they'd only meet with Dash, and he obviously can't be there."

"We can't call it off, we need this meeting in order to find out who's running the show," Doom replied.

"I'll go," I said.

Suddenly, I was very aware that every person in the room was looking directly at me.

I shrugged. "Dash wouldn't be in the hospital if it wasn't for me, so I'll go."

"Thanks for the offer, Sparky, but they did say they'd only meet with Dash," Doc said.

"Who the fuck cares what they said? Besides, they probably don't even know what Dash looks like. I'll show up, they'll see the Dog's cut and we'll talk about the truce."

"It's just that simple, is it?" Hatch countered.

"Maybe it is," I replied. "You guys keep saying these guys are business men. If that's the case, they should want to talk business."

"Sure. Unless they really just want to put a bullet in Dash's brain for the last time he got involved in their affairs. You really want to be standing there for that?" Dalton asked.

"If you guys really thought that, then why the hell would you let Dash walk into a shit-storm like that anyway? C'mon, just let me try to talk to these guys. What other choice do we have?"

Dalton looked at Doc and nodded.

"Alright, we have a new plan," Doc said. "The part of Dash will now be played by Sparky. The rest of us are gonna pray that he doesn't get shot. Now let's get ready."

I looked at my watch for the dozenth time in the last half hour. The reality of what I was about to walk into was setting in. To make matters worse, Poppy's words were echoing through my head, and I was fairly certain she'd personally murder me if I ended up getting myself killed. Doc, Hatch, and Dalton were the only other people in the room (Doom and Alamo were somewhere on my route for backup), and although no one would ever know it, I could tell they were all on edge.

"Wheels up in five, Sparky," Doc called out.

"Check," I replied without looking up. The location of the meeting was set, and Dalton's snipers were already in place. I hated that we had virtually no solid information of who exactly we'd be meeting with, but figured we'd know soon enough. Besides, what choice did we have? The Dixie Mafia had requested a sit down, and we were in no position to argue. They have the guns, the numbers, and the political influence to wipe us off the face of the planet, so our best chance at beating them was to play nice and try to keep the element of surprise.

"If you want to back out, now's the chance," Doc said.

"Fuck you, Doc," I replied. My words spilled out before I could contain them. "I'm sorry, I—"

"I get it," he replied with a nod. I appreciated the fact that he didn't lay into me for my lack of respect, but there was no way in hell I was about to back out of this.

"Alright then, let's head out," he said, and turned to me. "We'll be just down the road from the golf course, and Dalton's guys will have eyes on you at all times. If you feel unsafe at any time, you wave a hand in the air and the cavalry will be there directly."

"Got it," I said."

Hatch pulled me aside. "You cool?"

"What the fuck? Why is everyone asking me that? I'm gonna be fine."

"I'm not asking for me, I'm asking for Poppy," he said. "If I let you get killed, she's gonna be mad as hell at me," he said with smile.

"Tell me about it," I replied.

"Seriously, though, are you good?"

"Yeah, Hatch, I'm good. Like Doc said, Dalton's guys are on me, and you guys will be up the road. I'm as safe as kittens."

Safe as pigs walking into a slaughterhouse.

Hatch nodded. "Alright then, you'd better roll out."

I shot Poppy a quick text that simply read: "I love you and I'll see you soon," and started up my bike.

I arrived at the golf course a few minutes before the meeting time, riding casually and cautiously to the specified meeting place…a gazebo, facing the water on the west side of the course. Lights were strung up in the surrounding trees as well as on the gazebo itself, casting a romantic glow. I could see a folding table and two chairs set up in the center of the gazebo, and in one chair sat a man with dark, slicked back hair, wearing what looked to be a very expensive white suit. Just outside the gazebo, on each side of him, stood a large body guard. If I had to guess, they were armed. I parked as close as I could to the spot just in case I needed to beat a hasty retreat, but that was still a good fifty yards away. I walked to the gazebo and the man, still seated, spoke.

"Please excuse the formalities, but one can never be too careful these days, don't you agree?"

With that, his body guards were on me, and after a thorough frisking, one of them grunted, "Clean, Boss."

"Thank you so much for meeting with me this evening. Won't you please come sit down? Perhaps you'll join me in a drink." He motioned to a bottle of twenty-year-old Pappy Van Winkle's bourbon and two glasses that had been set out.

"Thanks, I'm not thirsty," I replied.

"Yes, well, you're also not Dash Lloyd, are you?" I stiffened, but before I could speak, my guest smiled wide and said, "It's alright, please sit down."

I did as he requested, and took a seat as he continued, "Now, before I find out exactly who you are, please allow me to introduce myself. My name is Harlan Cavanaugh and I'm from the great state of Kentucky. Now… who might you be?"

Harlan Cavanaugh looked like the canary that ate the cat. His facial expressions were warm, but controlled. This was a man that was used to being in control.

"I'm Sparky, and I'm from the great state of what the fuck is this all about?"

His smile dropped from his face, which remained like stone for several seconds, before returning wider than ever. "Sparky?" He laughed deeply. "Ooh, now that will simply not do at all, will it? I just can't possibly imagine your dear sweet mama looking down at you on your very first birthday and calling you Sparky."

"My mama was neither dear nor sweet," I replied.

"Regardless… tell me, what did she call you on the glorious day of your birth."

"Devon, and I'm calling this a waste of time," I said, and turned to walk away. I wasn't about to let this sweet talking, southern gentleman, Foghorn Leghorn wannabe, intimidate me.

"Come now, let's not start off like that. I was hoping we could be friends. Honestly now, joining me for a drink is the least you can do after showing up in place of my invited guest." His ever-present, ultra-white, smile was as menacing as it was polite, and behind every "request" was a thinly veiled order.

"Dash couldn't make it."

"Yes, I understand he was involved in an accident earlier today. How is he doing? Is he expected to fully recover?"