backs while this goes down. We don’t need them tangled up in this.”
Rocker growled low in his throat and offered a nod. “Our history with the deputies around here isn’t very good.”
I flashed a grin. “We have a good lawyer if things go south. Don’t worry too much about it.”
He left, still grumbling about getting involved with a crazy person, but he obeyed my orders. We might have the same rank, but my reputation and lineage preceded me. Even if I wasn’t exactly close to my father, Torch’s history of violence and disregard for law and order was legendary, and I was often found guilty by association. Very few members or clubs wanted to be put on my old man’s radar for any reason. Even if folks knew nothing about me and how I led my own crew, they knew I was Torch’s one and only son, and that was enough to gain me respect and blind compliance.
A moment later it was almost too loud to think, and definitely too loud to have any kind of conversation. The bar was suddenly surrounded in a wide circle by guys revving their engines and sending clouds of dust and dirt in the direction of the tin-covered building. The noise on the inside had to be deafening as the debris ricocheted off the exterior. Dressed head to toe in black, a couple of our members who we simply referred to as “the twins” blended in well with the night sky as they scurried across the thin road, heavy chains rattling in their hands.
As expected, a flood of people came storming out the front door. Most of the men held metal baseball bats as they started to scream obscenities and threats while the women scattered. If there were fifty people inside the building, approximately half had come out to see what the commotion was all about or to take cover. Top continued to rev his engine, spraying the gathered group and covering them in a cloud of dust and exhaust fumes. Angry yelling did its best to rise above the noise, but it was no match for the powerful motorcycle engines.
As soon as the twins were off the roof, I got a text from Rave that the tow chains were hooked up. The crowd was now gathered around the disruptive bikers. After scanning it and not seeing Coleman, I gave the order for the roof to be removed.
It was an ear-splitting sound as the metal was violently ripped away from the underlying structure. The bending and buckling tin shrieked loudly as more and more people came running out of the bar. I imagined it was similar to how folks in these parts would react to a tornado ripping through the building. A gunshot sounded, and voices rose. Off in the distance I heard sirens start to wail, but amid all the noise and confusion, there was still no sign of Coleman.
Heaving a deep sigh and pulling my mask back up over the lower half of my face, I sent a brief message to Top to let him know I was going inside to try and find him. I didn’t get a response, or expect one, because by now a full-on brawl had erupted in front of the club. It was bikers versus the bargoers, and the fight was evenly matched. I knew my guys could hold their own, so I circled the building, dodging a flying two-by-four on the way. Once I was around back where the mangled, crumpled roof had been discarded, I searched for a way to get over the wreckage and inside the building as unobtrusively as possible.
Unhooking one of the tow chains, I climbed up on top of a propane tank that luckily hadn’t been crushed under the weight of the flying roof, and hooked the end onto the top of the exposed frame of the building. It took a few tries to get a solid grasp, but once I had it hooked on, I hauled myself up the side of the building and dropped down on the other side. Luckily it was a short distance to fall, and the interior of the building was mostly emptied out.
An older man was standing behind the bar, looking like he was in shock. A few women were huddled together in the corner, clearly questioning their life decisions. A young guy across the room shouted at me and sent a worried look toward a door partially hidden behind the bar. Still not seeing