The Biker's Fate Chapter 680

Razor

EARLIER IN THE day Hatch put the word out for an AFH, 'All Fucking Hands,' meeting at the compound tonight. The place was so full, some guys were forced to sit in the open windowsills. Every Dog within a hundred miles was there, as well Minus, the president of longtime allies the Burning Saints, and Sundance, president of the Primal Howlers in Colorado and business partner in our weed growing operation.

After being cooped up for so fucking long, it was good for my soul to see all my brothers gathered together, even if I was envious seeing them on their bikes. Before the Spiders did their little tap dance number on me, I don't think I'd ever gone more than two days without riding since I was fifteen years old. Beyond the beat down I took, beyond this fucking leg cast, and even beyond the pain in my shoulder, not being able to ride was the worst part of the whole experience. I dreamt of riding almost every night and in the morning would wake up disappointed with reality.

"Thank you all for being here, tonight," Hatch said, addressing the room. "I called this meeting on pretty short notice , and it speaks volumes to me that you're all here. I'm sure some of you already know about our troubles with the Spiders, but just in case you haven't heard, let me get you up to speed really quickly. Warlock, the Spiders' new president, has demanded we give up one hundred percent of our interest in our cannabis grow business in exchange for peace between our clubs. Ten days ago, Warlock gave us ten days to turn over all aspects of our operation to him."

"Earlier today we made a counteroffer of 'Go fuck yourselves,'" Booker, our VP, said, causing a wave of chuckles and grunts to travel all around the room.

"We sent Warlock a gift basket filled with an assortment of our best product," Sundance chimed in. "Buds, vapes, edibles, wax, the works. In the basket was also a card which read, 'Dearest, Warlock. Thank you for your recent show of interest in partnering with Monumental High. Unfortunately, we currently have no open investment opportunities at this time, therefore we must decline your invitation. Neither the Dogs of Fire MC, nor the Primal Howlers wish to stand in the way of any competing business interests you may have and wish you the best of luck in finding a suitable partner for your particular needs. Please enjoy this sample basket as a token of our goodwill. Inside it you will find several products which will greatly reduce any stress caused by the disappointing nature of this note.'"

"How'd Warlock take the news?" I asked.

"Not great," Hatch replied. "I'll be honest, I skipped through parts of his voicemail, but I get the general impression that he's ripshit pissed."

"It's war, gentlemen," Flea said.

"That means, we're still in semi-lock down mode," Hatch said. "Keep your eyes open and your heads on swivels. We're hoping Warlock wants to avoid a full-scale war, but we need to be prepared for acts of retaliation."

"My cousin did eleven months with Warlock in the Oregon state pen," Ryder said. "I don't get the impression he's a go with the flow kind of guy."

Ryder left the Spiders years ago, taking with him several of the other descendants of members and officers within the club. Although, he wasn't officially a patched member of the Dogs, he knew the inner workings of the Spiders better than anyone and often consulted in an effort to bring the club down.

Hatch nodded. "Warlock and I go way back. He's smart but he's got more than a couple of screws loose. He's unpredictable and impulsive, which makes him dangerous, but vulnerable. I'd hoped he was just testing me to see how far I could be pushed, and that he'd take the gift basket as a shot across the bow and back off, but he's prepared to come at us hard."

"And what are we prepared to do?" I asked.

"I'll tell you right here and now exactly what the fuck we're doing. We've called in reinforcements," Hatch said.

Both Minus and Sundance nodded. The Primal Howlers were one-percenters who weren't about to let some club from Gresham, Oregon fuck with their bottom line, let alone their members. Minus' club, the Burning Saints were technically ex-one-percenters, but I'd hate to be the one who does their laundry. Both clubs were great allies, but the Spiders had allies of their own, including whatever remnants of the Beast still existed.

"More Dogs are coming in from Savannah tomorrow night," Hatch continued. "We've also got people working various other angles to assist us, but that's all I can say about that. For now, keep your eyes peeled and report anything you see or hear to your road captains or to me personally. The Spiders have been a thorn in our side for too long. I'd say it's high fucking time we squash them for good."