Chapter 5: The First Blow

WIDOW By ten that morning, I had showered, dressed, drunk two cups of coffee, and threatened to throw Razor’s new exhaust into a lake. It had been a productive morning until Viper walked into the kitchen with her phone and an expression that usually meant somebody had done something stupid. “Before you speak, remember that I’m a reasonable woman.” I told her. “You threatened to drown a motorcycle part.” She said. “It knows what it did.” I said. “Right. Raven’s Blood is causing trouble at Frank’s roadside stop.” She said. “What kind of trouble?” I asked as I set down my coffee. “The shouting, testosterone-fueled kind. Storm’s patrol is there, and Diesel’s men have apparently decided the road belongs to them.” She said. “Wonderful. Have they purchased it, or are we dealing with another tragic case of male imagination?” I asked. “You should probably get over there before someone starts swinging.” Viper grinned. “If they start swinging, I expect our women to duck.” I said and I grabbed my leather jacket. “And if they don't?” She asked. “Then I expect Raven’s Blood to discover that stupidity has consequences.” I said. Frank’s roadside stop came into view twenty minutes later. Six Raven’s Blood riders stood near the fuel pumps, while Storm, Havoc, Razor, and three other Blackwidows faced them across the forecourt. Frank watched through his shop window with the exhausted expression of a man reconsidering every decision that had led him into business. I parked beside Storm and removed my helmet. “What happened?” I asked. “Diesel’s men arrived while we were getting fuel. One of them started complaining about our patrol using the corridor. Then he decided we needed permission to ride through.” Storm explained. “Permission from whom?” I asked. Storm pointed at the biggest rider, whose beard looked as though it housed several generations of wildlife. “His royal stupidity.” She said. “Congratulations. You've been promoted to road inspector.” I said as I looked at him. “You must be Widowmaker.” He said as he turned toward me. “And you must be the reason your mother drinks.” I said. Razor snorted, and his expression hardened. “You think you’re funny?” He asked. “No, I think I’m gorgeous. The funny part is watching you struggle with a conversation.” I said. “Your girls need to learn when to keep their mouths shut.” The man said as he stepped closer. “My women can speak whenever they please. You should try developing a personality that doesn't require everyone else to be silent.” I smiled pleasantly. His companion laughed before apparently remembering whose side he was supposed to be on. “You think this is funny?” The first man asked as he turned on him. “No. I think your friends are afraid of you, which is probably why nobody has told you that your personality resembles a clogged toilet.” I interrupted. Havoc made a choking sound. “You need to control your mouth, bitch.” The rider said as his face reddened. “Try controlling your temper. It might improve your blood pressure.” I said. He shoved Storm and everything happened at once. Storm stumbled against a parked motorcycle, and Havoc moved like a woman who had been waiting all morning for somebody to give her a legitimate reason to hit something. She grabbed the rider's jacket, twisted, and slammed him onto the concrete. His friend lunged toward her, but Havoc drove an elbow into his chest and swept his legs out from under him. He landed beside the first man with a grunt. “Two down! Anyone else want to donate to the pavement?” Razor shouted. Apparently, someone did. A third Raven’s Blood rider charged toward her, and Razor met him halfway. Viper caught another man reaching for Storm, twisted his arm, and sent him stumbling backward into a stack of empty crates. I barely had time to appreciate the efficiency before the bearded i***t swung at me. I ducked, struck his ribs, and caught his arm as he tried to recover. A sharp twist brought him forward, and I drove my knee into his stomach. He doubled over, wheezing. “Honestly. You people make this far too easy.” I muttered. He grabbed my jacket and tried to drag me down with him. I twisted free, struck his face, and heard the satisfying crack of his nose breaking. When he swung again, I caught his arm and wrenched it behind his back until another sharp snap cut through his swearing. He screamed and dropped to his knees. I released him, stepping back as he clutched his injured arm and bleeding nose. “Stay down. You've already lost the argument and most of your dignity.” I advised. He glared up at me through watering eyes. “f*****g b***h!” He yelled. “Still better company than you.” I said. Behind me, Havoc had already put two men on the ground and was standing over them with her hands on her hips. “Anybody else?” She asked. Nobody volunteered. The fight ended almost as quickly as it had started. Two Raven’s Blood riders lay sprawled on the concrete, another was nursing his broken nose and arm, and the remaining men had suddenly developed a deep appreciation for personal space. Frank emerged from his shop. “Are you finished?” Frank asked. “Unless anyone has another complaint.” I said as I glanced at the scattered crates. “Somebody knocked over my sandwich display.” He said. “Send Raven’s Blood the bill.” I said as I pointed at the injured riders. “I knew there was a reason I liked you.” Frank nodded. Then the rumble of approaching motorcycles rolled across the forecourt. Three bikes swept into the parking area, and Reaper climbed off his motorcycle with Griffin close behind him. Reaper's gaze moved over his men, the scattered crates, and Havoc standing above two riders who appeared to be reconsidering their life choices. Then he looked at me and I lifted my coffee cup. “Morning, Reaper. Your boys have been entertaining us.” I said. “What the hell happened?” He demanded as his jaw tightened. “Your men came to discuss road ownership. Unfortunately, they weren't very good at negotiating.” I said. “Looks like they made some powerful arguments.” Griffin said as he surveyed the damage. “Shut up.” Reaper snapped. “I didn't say whose arguments were powerful.” Griffin said. I almost liked Griffin. “Who started it?” Reaper asked as he approached his men. Nobody answered. He looked at the man with the broken nose and arm. “I asked a question.” He threatened. “They attacked us.” The injured rider mumbled. “After he shoved Storm.” Havoc said as she folded her arms. “Is that true?” Reaper asked as he turned toward Storm. “He put his hands on me first.” Storm said. Reaper's expression darkened as he looked back at his rider. “Get up. The ones who can walk will help the injured. Nobody touches another Blackwidow, and nobody says another f*****g word until we're gone.” Reaper ordered. His men obeyed, although the injured rider shot me a murderous look as his friends helped him stand. “Careful. You might break something else.” I smiled sweetly. “Widow.” Reaper warned. “Reaper.” I said. For several seconds, we stared at each other while our clubs watched from opposite sides of the forecourt. Then he stepped closer, lowering his voice. “You think this is a joke?” He asked. “No. I think your men started a fight they couldn't finish, and now you're embarrassed because I happened to be better at it.” I said. “You broke one of my men's arm.” He said as his eyes flashed. “He tried to hit me twice. I'm generous, but I'm not stupid.” I said. “You could have walked away.” He said. “So could he.” I said. Griffin cleared his throat, clearly fighting a smile. Reaper glanced at him before returning his attention to me. “This isn't over.” He said. “I'm devastated. I was hoping you'd send flowers.” I said. He turned away, ordering his men toward their bikes, but before he mounted his own, Frank called from the shop. “Reaper, you might want to hear this.” Frank called out. Something in Frank's voice wiped the amusement from my face. He stood in the doorway, looking between us. “Those Savage Saints bastards were here before your boys arrived. They told me there'd be a fight today, and they said both clubs would blame each other.” Frank said. Silence settled over the forecourt and Reaper slowly turned back toward me. I looked at the injured riders, then at the road beyond the pumps. The Savage Saints had been pushing into our territory for weeks, threatening businesses and testing boundaries, but this felt different. Someone had known exactly where we'd be. Someone had expected blood. And someone had counted on Reaper and me being too busy hating each other to notice who was really pulling the strings. Reaper's voice dropped to a dangerous murmur. “Widow, get your women off this road. Now.” He demanded. Before I could answer, the sound of an engine roared from behind the shop. A motorcycle shot around the building, its rider swerving toward the exit. Havoc shouted a warning, and I caught a glimpse of the rider's leather jacket before he accelerated onto the highway. The back carried the unmistakable Savage Saints colors. Then Frank shouted the words that made my stomach tighten. “That bastard just came out of my storage building, and he wasn't alone!” Frank yelled.