Hellions Ride On, no. 0 Page 2

  My dad is Drexel “Rex” Crews, Catawba Hellions MC President. After his cousin Talon “Tripp” Crews took over as the Haywood’s Landing President, Dad stepped up and he named Andy “Shooter” Jenkins as his VP. There isn’t a man he trusts more than Shooter, not even me. They have this unique bond and I swear they can communicate without even speaking sometimes. I remember when I was little being confused by some of it. Now, though, no one questions either of them because the loyalty and respect they have for one another knows no bounds.

  Family isn’t always blood, and the Hellions MC are fucking family through and through.

  Shooter has been my mom’s rock since he came into our lives. While Rex had time to sort out his own, Shooter was there for us. I know now the fight that ensued when Rex learned that Shooter was hiding me from him to help my mom. How my dad got over the betrayal of his motorcycle club brother I don’t know, but they worked shit out for me and my mom. The mismatched family we have is one I wouldn’t trade for the fucking world.

  “Ain’t shit wrong with anyone,” Shooter says taking a bite of his own breakfast.

  I look him in the eye, “If you tell me we got another baby comin’, I might have to stab you with a fork. Seven kids is enough, don’t ya think?”

  Shooter laughs as does my dad. “No more kids, your mom threatened to cut my cock off if I didn’t get fixed after Acadia.”

  “Thank fuck!” I retort. “Then why the pancakes?”

  “Been talking,” my dad speaks. “Need you to take a run to Chicago. You don’t wanna do it, say the word, Son, we drop the client.”

  I set my fork down to study the men. Their features give nothing away so I’m more confused with each passing moment. “I’m twenty-five years old. I went to college like y’all asked before I came back and earned my cut. I prospected a solid fourteen fuckin’ months. I handle Crews Transports regular business just as good as either of you. “I’m a grown ass man. I can take a fuckin’ run.”

  My aggravation isn’t held back. How can they think I would turn away a run? This is what the club does for income. These side runs. This wouldn’t be my first or my last. There isn’t a job I would ever turn away. This club is my life. If the club needs the transport I’ll step up, no questions asked.

  “Not a doubt in our minds about that, Axel,” Shooter explains. “Gotta say it, though; we’re your parents and it ain’t easy to let go sometimes. This run, you take it alone.”

  “And I needed pancakes for this why?” I pushed the plate forward letting my irritation win. “Last time I checked, my patches were equal to everyone else’s. Last time I checked, I had completed more than one run for this club. Last time I checked, I knew the fuckin’ risks and took them proudly. So, last time I checked, there would be no reason to question giving me an order or a reason to give me the information like you’re prepping me for a damn funeral.”

  “The package isn’t one contained in a crate. It isn’t even a product we can replace,” my dad tells me in this serious tone I have never heard from him before.

  “It’s a person?” I ask, sorting through what it could be and that’s the only thing that popped into my mind.

  “It is,” Shooter replies setting down his fork and taking a drink of water.

  “Male or female and why alone?”

  “It’s a paid run to transport a female,” my dad explains and I can’t stop the laugh.

  “This shit sounds like Tripp and Doll. Don’t tie me down, Pops.” I joke but they don’t take the bait. I want to lighten the mood. No matter the package, I’m taking the run. I don’t give a fuck that it’s a person. Sure, that’s a different responsibility, but I’m not the kind of man to shy away from my responsibilities ever.

  “You were requested specifically for the job by the client,” Shooter says looking to Rex as they silently communicate something.

  Again trying to find a nonchalance tone, I joke, “Who wants to play matchmaker?”

  Instead, both men shake their heads and look at me sternly.

  “Why me, then?”

  “You know the girl, and the requestor thinks she will be soothed in your care,” my dad tells me.

  “I’m a Crews, we aren’t known for being teddy bears. Again, why me?”

  “The client feels she may offer some resistance, but with you she will decide to come along. They only want you.”

  My decision is easy. “Then when do I ride?”

  “You leave in twenty minutes,” my dad sighs.

  “This chick is untouchable. The man requesting her transport is not the kind of guy to fuck with, Axel,” Shooter explains with dread in his tone. “We are willing to turn it away, but if we do he’s gonna push back. We’re willing to go to war, Axel. You don’t have to take this run.”

  “Who is she?” I wonder why the Hellions MC has even been asked to be involved. The air grows thick. Tension is at an all time high.

  Then my dad speaks. “Yesnia Dominguez.”

  2

  Yesnia

  The television is off. Since the cable was disconnected now there was no reason to turn it on. I have my phone on the dock playing music while I pack box after box. The University of North Carolina, Charlotte has been my home for the last four years. I graduated a week ago, and now it is time for me to return to Texas. I am the first person in my family to get a college degree in America.

  I feel proud. Honored. Respected. It wasn’t easy, but then again nothing in my life has ever been simple. I did it. I finished school for me and for my mother.

  My mother, Mari Belle Dominguez, grew up in Juarez, Mexico a border city to the United States. When she was just nineteen-years-old, her brother, my Tío Maricio moved her to America. I was born a few months later as an actual US Citizen. My uncle Maricio still says it was the proudest day for their family.

  El Futuro.

  I am the future of the Dominguez family, he believes. My whole life he always has given me his signature smile full of pride along with his speech about me being the future and having the power. Sometimes it was awkward and over the top, but that was just my uncle and how he was.

  Box by box, I pack up the apartment my uncle has provided for me. This was the only place he gave me freedom.

  I’m sad to be leaving it. The freedom not necessarily North Carolina. I like life in Texas, I just don’t like the way my uncle smothers me and my mother. Soon, I’ll be back to the family home outside of El Paso, Texas. I don’t know how I should feel about it. I’ve had this space that I’m not sure I want to give up. My uncle chose this school for me and I was accepted. My bachelors in the arts is earned, so my time here is done. Now, I will go home and together with my uncle and mother we will decide what’s next for me. It’s a hard pill to swallow knowing my life is out of my control. But arguing with Uncle Maricio is a losing battle.

  The school isn’t small, but it’s not large either. The only rule I had during my four years here was under no circumstances could I befriend, or even be in association with, Annalisa Sofia Almanza Ravenel.

  I don’t know why my uncle felt she posed a threat to me other than her name, but alas I didn’t make the rules. I simply followed them. Just like the order to keep my distance from Annalisa. I succeeded and she is still on track for her MBA.

  Our family and the Almanza family had a long rivalry that I wasn’t about to dip my toes into. My mother told me the less I knew the better. One thing I knew more than any other rule was to not ask questions. To question Uncle Maricio was a sign of disrespect. I was never to ask why or even for a detail. He told me what I needed to know and I was never to deviate from his instruction. I never crossed paths with the chick so the rule honestly was never an issue. My uncle said if the school was considered safe by Javier Almanza then, no matter how much he hated the man, he knew it would be safe for me too.

  I knew my uncle had enemies. Javier Almanza was simply one of many. I grew up under my uncle’s watchful gaze and with many warnings of the people he associated wit
h. However, I didn’t know anything about his business or what could possibly be dangerous for me. Again, the one thing truly engrained in me from early on: don’t question my uncle. If he wanted me to go here, I wouldn’t ask why. If he said I was safe here, I would take him at his word. If he told me to avoid someone, I would at all costs. It was the world I grew up in.

  So even now knowing I will be losing my freedoms, I continue to pack according to his instructions.

  My phone rings breaking up the music.

  Unknown displays on the screen.

  This isn’t unusual. My Tío is constantly changing phone numbers and it always shows unknown. I simply assume it is him.

  “Hola, Tío Maricio,” I greet trying to be cheerful.

  “Yesnia, this is not your beloved Tío. I am a very important man, though.” His voice is stern and commanding. My stomach twists and tightens. Fear builds up as my adrenaline kicks in and my heart rate picks up. “For the safety of your mother, I request your presence in Chicago.” His thick Hispanic accent reminds me of my abuelo.

  My mother and uncle have an accent but not nearly as prevalent as this man’s. I don’t know who would call me like this and want me in Chicago of all places. Anxiety creeps up inside me as I think on his words. My mother’s in danger. She lives in Texas not Chicago. How did she get there? Is this real? Questions run crazy in my mind while the concern for my mother grows increasingly high as each second ticks on. Panic overtakes me and I struggle to think clearly.

  Taking a deep breath, I fight through the barrage of emotions I’m feeling. “What is wrong with my mother?” I fight to keep my pitch steady and not show weakness.

  “She’s tied up at the moment.” His words cause chills to run down my spine. “But I have your code word so you know to go with the man who will be arriving to pick you up soon.”

  “My uncle will come for her,” I mutter trying to be confident and ignoring his comment about the code. No one knows about that and I can’t fall for his trap if he’s trying to test me.

  “Your uncle holds no power over me.” The man’s sinister laugh radiates through the phone. “I am Javi Almanza. Your mother, she is with me.”

  Time stands still. Javier Almanza is on the phone and has my mother. The seconds feel like hours as I can’t clear my mind.

  Fear grips me keeping me frozen in place. No, no, no. This can’t be. I have been told of the Almanza’s my entire life. More specifically Javier Almanza.

  The very man who was raised beside my mother and uncle as familia is on the phone with me. This same man set my uncle up to take the fall for his own crimes. My uncle wears the scars across his chest and Javi is missing an eye from the fight. Neither man walked away without battle wounds and a grudge. The story I was told is one where no one came out on top. The fight between them only ended when Estella Almanza stopped them screaming that she didn’t want her hijos to kill each other. She had a massive heart attack that day. My uncle was never the same again and has no clue if Estella even survived.

  My mother told me stories of Estella being a mother to her since my Abuela died, when my mother was only eight. Abuelo, to this day, still says he has two sons and one daughter. Tío may have turned his back on Javi, but my grandfather still had the parental attachment to him.

  To me, Javier Almanza is the enemy.

  And he has my mother.

  “My mother would never give you the word, nor would she want me with you.” I challenge back as my blood boils and my palms sweat as the concern for my mother’s safety continues to grow. I’ve been sheltered my whole life.

  Protected.

  Cherished.

  I don’t know how to handle this.

  But I won’t leave my mother in danger. He wants to test me so be it. I won’t take the bait.

  There is no way he knows the word given to me when I was a toddler and my mother feared someone would take me from school. She always said if she somehow wasn’t there to pick me up, if she sent someone to get me they would know the word. I had to memorize it, never share it, and heaven forbid someone say she sent them I had to ask for the word. She swore even Tío didn’t know the word. This was my mother’s way to protect me. We lived a life outside of her control. She knew it and didn’t ever falter in the underworld we survived in. Maricio was her brother, best friend, and protector. He was my Tío, superhero, and father figure. He wouldn’t let Javier Almanza get to her.

  “Muñeca, you need to listen.” I gasp at his use of my code word—doll. How did he know this? My mother wouldn’t willingly give him this, would she? Maybe she needs me. I didn’t have a chance to question him as he continued speaking. “Now, I have someone coming for you in an hour. You will pack a single bag with the necessities only. The rest of your belongings will be picked up by my associates tomorrow.”

  Disbelief washes over me. Defeat hits like a kick square to my gut. My mom must need me if she gave him the word.

  I look at the phone like this isn’t real and notice he ended our call. The next alert to my phone is a video. I hesitate to open it. In the end, curiosity wins and I click play. On the screen, I watch as my mother tells me to go with the man on the motorcycle coming for me and she will see me tomorrow.

  She is pale, her eyes sorrow filled, but she isn’t shackled, bruised, or under duress – she looks simply unhappy. What the hell has happened?

  I don’t hesitate to call my uncle as soon as the video ends. It’s the only thing I know to do.

  Unfortunately, to my dismay, he doesn’t answer. Instead, I’m greeted by an automated recording informing me that the number I have stored is no longer in service.

  This is not uncommon for my uncle. Except, this leaves me helpless until he contacts me with a new number.

  As my panic rises, I reach out for any lifeline to my family. I try my mother’s phone number over and over, only to get the cheery voicemail greeting where she ends it with she loves me. I need her to answer. I need someone to tell me what the plan is, what is really going on. What am I supposed to do? We have never been through this. My mother has never been unreachable for me. Anytime, day or night, she’s always told me she will answer.

  Only now she isn’t.

  Suddenly, I have to make decisions about what to do with no guidance from anyone and only my instincts to rely on.

  Picking up the phone, I try three numbers I have for my uncle’s trusted associates, all of them torture me with the same disconnected message. It’s like the Dominguez family is off the grid and my mother is in Chicago with our bitter enemy.

  Knowing my mother is depending on me, I do the only thing I can think of: I pack a fucking bag.

  3

  Axel

  I climb on my Harley and let my mind wander as the pavement passes under me. I have been tasked with picking up Yesnia Dominguez and taking her to Chicago. A task that I find ties me up inside more than I am comfortable with. It doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things so I’ll never admit that I even have a single emotion about this order. I will get the job done regardless of any feelings from myself or anyone else.

  I pull up to her apartment complex and scan the area. It’s like every other apartment building near the college. Common area, stairs, tall buildings, units crammed together to maximize profits, that’s what happens in every college town. Charlotte happens to have more than the school, but the concept of affordable housing is still good business.

  The Hellions were hired by Javier Almanza personally to deliver this woman to him directly. Nothing about this building makes Yesnia stand out. In fact, it leaves me with more questions than answers. It all sounds overbearing, controlling, and quite frankly like bullshit to a man like me.

  I don’t like any time a man feels in control of a woman. My mom didn’t raise me to be that kind of guy. So why does Javier Almanze get to pull these kind of strings? What kind of man thinks at the snap of his fingers a woman will be delivered to him? More importantly, why does he want Yesnia?

  Layi
ng out my plan, I think through what’s ahead. In the end, the why of any of this don’t matter one fucking bit.

  I had a job to do.

  A single task.

  No matter the challenges ahead, I will be successful.

  Failure simply doesn’t happen.

  The drive from Charlotte, North Carolina to Chicago, Illinois is a little over eleven hours, but I have been given a window of thirteen hours to have her in front of him or it’s my life.

  There isn’t much room for any delay or stalling. Traffic could be a bitch to get through or smooth sailing, I had no way to know until we hit the highway.

  This is why I was given the order with a side of pancakes. The risk is high and failure isn’t an option. Shooter said I should expect some resistance or panic from Yesnia which is why Almanza allowed the additional arrival time window. He isn’t known for being a patient, kind, or understanding man. He did state that Yesnia had to come of her own freewill, she wasn’t to be forced, and under no circumstances is she to feel threatened. According to the instructions, she will be ready when I arrive. However, I can’t say that any of this feels right.

  Kidnapping isn’t our thing. The Hellions MC walk this invisible line of law abiding and outlaw. It has been this way from the very beginning.

  My dad said he could understand the man’s reasons after speaking with him. Except he never shared with me what those reasons were. Whatever Almanza said, well it was the only reason he accepted the task.

  This made me curious. Combined with the money, the job was one even Tripp signed off on taking. So it had to be good whatever it was. According to them, Javier Almanza requested me exclusively. Again this is strange. I don’t have a reputation. I’m a low man on the totem pole so to speak in that I have a patch, but I’m not an officer. Another key detail piquing a million more questions in my mind. The first conversation Almanza had with my dad, Rex, Catawba Hellions President, there was no trip to be made because my dad quickly told the man to fuck off. That’s how it was laid out to me. The man was instantly denied. Except, Javier Almanza didn’t take no for an answer. By the time he laid out his story for my father and then for Tripp, their minds were changed.