Page 39 of Salute, To Bravery

“T his is it,” I said, gazing at the land I’d inherited. It was a small campsite with eight cabins in Green Valley, ten minutes away from Box Elder, where we’d just purchased a bar.

Lance looked around; it was strange calling him that, or Prez.

He was no longer Tommy Anders, or even Lieutenant.

Tommy was now Lance, President of the Fallen Warriors.

I liked that name; it resounded with me.

Despite falling, we got back up and remained warriors.

My arm was a dud, fucked up, but I could still run a bar and build my weapons, and I was happy.

As happy as I could be after the previous year.

I wrinkled my nose as I saw the condition of the cabins. They weren’t great, but they’d do. Most of them needed repairs, yet they were liveable. After the way we’d been living for the last twelve years, anything was an improvement. This, we could build on and make our own.

The cabins were in a wooded area, giving us privacy, which was something we all wanted. The presence of eight cabins was lucky since we were a group of eight.

Our Lieutenant became President. Maelstrom had become Bat, no longer Sergeant, or Jake. Kaitlin was now called Reaper, and Sophie was Tempest. I was Sniper, not DiMarco and the enforcer. But there was one missing, a hole that would never be filled, so we’d carried a part of him with us.

Reaper walked past, carrying Kane Rogers, her four-month-old son.

They’d not known Kaitlin was six weeks pregnant when Rogers died.

It was a blessing that saved her from the brink.

Kane was the only person who could draw any emotion out of his mother.

Reaper had shut completely down once we had buried Rogers.

The three men who walked by our side today were also recruited from the hospital we’d been sent to at home.

Raddock was a tall man, quiet but a thinker.

He’d lost a leg, like Lance and Bat. Owl had lost both legs, but he was a security systems expert.

Worm had lost a hand but was shit hot at hacking.

Lance and Bat had put them through their paces before accepting them into the MC.

Eight of us in total so far. Fallen Warriors MC was small, probably one of the smallest MCs around, but we’d grow.

The nurse, Maylin, who had helped Kaitlin, had discovered our plans and supported us as much as possible.

Maylin had also flown back to the States and was working in Norfolk.

Maylin said that if she came across any likely candidates, she’d send them to us.

We had a Prez, VP, enforcer, secretary, Tempest, and a second enforcer, Reaper.

Other positions we’d fill as we grew. There was no rush. Life was plodding along as we wished.

“Definitely needs some work,” Lance announced, and I nodded.

“This will give physiotherapy a different meaning,” I agreed.

“Yeah, I don’t want to see Owl on a roof with a hammer. Owl takes enough risks as it is,” Lance stated, and I controlled my smile.

That was true. Amputee or not, nothing phased Owl, and we’d had to rescue him from predicaments.

Owl appeared determined to prove his independence.

That was usually the case for most of us.

With our disabilities, we all felt we had something to prove.

I hated that word. Disabled. My left arm didn’t work, but that did not make me less capable, as I’d proved several times.

Physio had been rough. Bat had given up, and Lance had kicked his ass every day until he realised he was just as good as always. Once Bat understood that, there’d been no stopping him, and he’d become a machine. Bat was leaner and more toned than he’d been in the army.

“We have privacy here. This is a perfect spot to heal,” Lance said, and I nodded.

“Are we going to check the bar?” Raddock asked.

“Yeah, it’s time we took an interest in it. We’ve had a nameless face running it for four weeks. The previous owner vouched for the manager, but we don’t know him from Adam,” Lance replied.

“That’s the biggest cabin and the first to be worked on,” I said, and Lance nodded. We’d give it to Reaper and Kane.

We walked back to our bikes and mounted them. It was amazing how easy it was to ride with an amputated limb.

The bar was fifteen minutes from the campsite and in a decent area.

It was close to Ellsworth Air Force Base, and we’d decided to offer a ten per cent discount on food and drinks to members.

All they had to do was produce their Military ID.

It was our way of honouring our serving brothers and sisters.

Lance

Intrigued, I walked into the bar, and a unique smell hit my nose.

Marijuana. Bat and I exchanged glances and then took a table in the corner.

Outside, we’d discussed not identifying ourselves as owners when we’d seen the bar.

Other Harleys were parked nearby, and we wanted to understand the situation before announcing ourselves.

We wore our colours and were on guard. All five of us were armed to the teeth, but you couldn’t see the weapons. Raddock ordered the beers, and I was disgusted at the swill that was served. No self-respecting armed forces personnel would be seen here. Even if we were the only bar near the airbase.

“That guy is openly snorting coke,” Raddock said, sitting down.

“No shit,” Bat exclaimed.

“Who’s dealing? Somebody behind the bar has to be,” I demanded.

“No idea yet. But I know the waitress is in the toilets giving someone a blowjob,” Raddock replied.

“Tell me you’re joking,” Bat shot back.

“Fuckin’ wish I was. The barman told me she charges ten bucks a blow,” Raddock stated with a shudder.

“Jesus Christ, what the fuck did we buy?” Owl asked.

“Fuck knows, but this place needs closing, a lot of repairs and remarketing, or we’re going to get the same assholes returning,” Bat said.

We watched as a bleached blonde came from a hallway with a guy behind her.

Fake tits were pushed up high, with her top barely covering her nipples.

Her skirt left little to the imagination, and she grabbed a tray of drinks as she licked her lips and tottered over to a table.

She smiled widely at the men there, who gazed at her impassively, and she moved away pretty quickly.

I noted their colours. Rage MC. That was one of the main MCs in Pennington County.

They were based out of Rapid City. If drugs were being peddled at our bar, they would be shocked when we closed it down.

This was going to be a drug-free zone, come hell or high water.

Bat and I swapped glances. Rage was considerably bigger than us, but we had an edge they didn’t.

Twelve years in special ops. Raddock had been a ranger, and Owl and Worm had been Marines.

Giving off a casual air, I watched the six men wearing Rage cuts carefully and noted something. They all seemed to be paying attention to the barman except for one man, whose glittering green eyes stayed locked on me. If Rage wanted to fight, they’d find we’d easily outmatch them, amputees or not.

Raddock hissed beside me, and I glanced across.

“What did you see?”

“Waitress just slipped the girl on the end a bag of white powder.”

“Any money exchange?”

“Yeah, how ingenious. The barman took her a cola, and then she gave him a fifty,” Raddock said.

“Very expensive drink that. And this beer tastes like crap. This doesn’t deserve the name beer,” I commented.

“Yet I’ve gone through the accounts. We’re paying for premium beers and ales,” Owl stated.

“So, the manager’s scamming us as well. Seems he’s got a huge problem,” I mused as I continued looking at Rage MC. Another man was now watching us, and a glance at his patch showed him to be the President of Rage MC.

Interesting. Were they here to protect their money? This was our bar, and I wanted it clean. I didn’t give a shit what Rage MC had to say on the matter.

The door opened, and a guy wandered in, and my trouble antenna went alert.

He gazed around the bar, lingering on Rage MC and then us, before sauntering over to the barman.

They exchanged words, and the barman whistled for someone.

I spotted a man stand up from a table where he had been sitting with somebody else and walk over.

“Hey, you new here? Welcome to Henry’s.”

“We’ve got drinks,” Raddock replied as the waitress checked us over.

“Anyone need a refill?” she inquired, and Bat snorted. We’d not even taken two mouthfuls of that swill.

“Who’s the dude in the Metallica tee?” I asked.

She looked over her shoulder and twirled her hair. “That’s Jay; he’s the manager here. So, does anybody want a refill?”

“Pass, my piss tastes better,” Owl said snarkily.

“Wow, that is rude,” the waitress exclaimed.

“But true. Whatever you’re pedalling, we don’t want. Skedaddle,” Bat ordered.

“Ske—a what now?”

“Get lost,” Bat growled out, losing all patience.

“Fine!” she snapped and fluffed her hair before storming away. I watched as the Rage president exchanged glances with someone.

“Owl, Worm, stay here, Bat and Raddock on me,” I said as Jay left the bar with the stranger. Ten to one it was Jay pedalling drugs, and the barman worked for him. We followed them outside and kept to the shadows as Jay walked across to a supped-up Audi and stopped with the stranger at the trunk.

Before our eyes, the guy I thought was a dealer reached in and pulled a package out, which he gave to Jay. In return, Jay handed him a fat envelope.

“Raddock, take Jay around the back,” I ordered as Bat and I moved forward.

Jay and the dealer began moving as we approached, and Raddock leapt forward, got Jay in an armlock, and marched him away.

Jay’s loud protestations hit our ears before Raddock shoved a handkerchief in his mouth.

I didn’t even have time to wonder where the hell Raddock had found that before Bat had hold of the seller.

“Whatever your issue is, you’re messing with the wrong man,” the dealer threatened, bulking up.

“Dude, I can snap you in half, shut the fuck up,” Bat said, laughing.

The idiot pulled a gun, and within the blink of an eye, I’d disarmed him, leaving him gaping at his empty hand.

“Listen up, asshole. I’m ex-Special Forces, and I’ve faced kids with more balls than you.

This is my bar, and I have a real problem with snakes like you.

No dealers allowed anymore. Drugs are prohibited here, understand?

Because I’m in a good mood, I’ll be letting you go with a warning.

Push me, and you’ll be six feet under by the end of tonight.

See, I ain’t got an issue putting a bullet in a scumbag’s brain.

Did it for a living for twelve years,” I threatened.

The guy visibly deflated as I spoke, but he still had the balls to argue. “This is one of my boss’s best patches. He ain’t gonna like this,” he said.

“Tell your boss this bar is now owned and under the control of the good old United States Army. He wants a war, bring it, but he better come weapon-heavy because he is up against Special Forces, Marines, Rangers, and who knows what else I have in my MC. If he wants a war, fuckin’ make sure he brings his best,” I snarled.

“I’ll speak to him,” the guy replied, gulping.

“You better, and I want his name,” I demanded.

“Santos. He runs the crime around here. Santos is well known,” the idiot said hopefully.

“Dude, I faced women with homemade bombs, survived an IED explosion and a rocket attack. I lost a leg to that shit; think your prick of a scum-sucking boss frightens me?”

“No,” came the stuttering reply.

“Now I’m gonna be real nice. Keep your money and don’t return. If I see you again, I won’t be so welcoming,” I warned.

Bat grabbed his shirt and shoved him towards the Audi, and we watched him scramble in and peel out.

I turned and found the green-eyed guy from Rage watching me.

“Ain’t your shit they’re dealing,” he stated. I clocked his name as Ace, and his patch stated he was VP.

“The fuck it is, and if you’re working for this Santos, then politely, get the hell off my land,” I replied calmly.

Ace stared me down, and I held his gaze. He finally let out a dry chuckle. “Couple of mine giving yours a hand,” he said, jerking his chin to the back of the bar where Raddock had disappeared.

“My brother better be unhurt,” I warned.

“You were telling the truth just then?” Ace asked.

“Let’s find out,” I retorted.

Ace offered another dark laugh.

“Seems we might have had the wrong idea of you,” he said as he began to walk away.

I strode after him confidently. “Your opinion doesn’t matter to me.”

“What does?” Ace questioned quietly over his shoulder.

“You’ll have to find out,” I replied. And that was the last word.