Rat Trap (A Lucifer's Apostles MC Tale)
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About this ebook
This outlaw biker tales involves the rise and fall of an important member of "The Lucifer's Apostles Motorcycle Club" in California. It chronicles his rise to power and his lust for control at the expense of his brothers and his club resulting in the ultimate betrayal ending in murder.
Six Shooter Sally
Six Shooter Sally lives in rural Arizona with four Rottweilers. They are Six Shooters Rolling Thunder, Six Shooters Crackling Lightening,Six Shooters Raging Tempest with here daughter Six Shooters Black Rain. I have one grown son of whom I am very proud. We enjoy the great roads in my state making it the perfect place to go for a ride any time of year. My passions are my son, my dogs, writing, motorcycles,shooting and cooking. I prefer revolvers to automatics, Italian cooking and Barbecue over just about everything else and I prefer a good tequila over whiskey any day! Hoping you all keep the rubber side down!
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Rat Trap (A Lucifer's Apostles MC Tale) - Six Shooter Sally
Rat Trap
A Lucifer’s Apostles MC Tale
By Six Shooter Sally
Copyright 2009
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be resold. If you would like to share this book with another person, please direct them to my Smashwords author page (https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/SixshooterSally)
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Rat Trap
A Lucifer’s Apostles MC Tale
Prolog
It’s not that he meant for things to take the turn they did. It wasn’t his initial intention but it was in his nature combined with the speed that took over. His focus simply changed over time. Although for him it never was about the money. Others amassed mountains of it while he remained nearly penniless. Meth wasn’t the drug that drove him although it shrouded his thinking and drove the paranoia. Power was only the aphrodisiac; it was mere foreplay. What truly drove him was the manipulation and ultimate control over people and their lives. It eventually would become worse than a drug. It became his way of life and the near death and ultimate destruction of Lucifer’s Apostles MC!
Chapter One - (The End)
It was cold even for October. The weatherman said that there was a northern blast coming down from Canada and temperatures would really drop over the next few nights. He was right about that Tag thought as he hid in the shadows waiting for his target to show him self.
This act had been rehearsed time and time again, until he knew each step by heart. The plan had taken the better part of a year, to design assuring its success. It took that long to summon all the courage he would need. Killing someone you don’t know is far easier than someone you do. Making the act all the more difficult, when the victim is someone you used to respect and admire.
Not anymore. Not after all you have done to destroy too many of my Brothers and this club I love
. Reeling in his emotions understanding that now wasn’t the time to rehash all the bullshit. This was go time and tonight the bastard was going to go. The binoculars were overkill, from his location he really didn’t need them but he raised them to his eyes again anyhow.
His wait turned out to be shorter than expected as he watched his target, his Brother, his President walk out the back door of the strip club headed for his bike. The cocky swagger still there after twenty years in this life. His arrogant half smile reserved for chicks and civilians was spread across his face. Not for long
he thought watching the blond mans every move.
Wednesday night was bike night at a lot of bars in the Valley. It’s ironic, bars that a few years ago would turn the club away were now offering to be a stop on the poker runs and now held a bike nights of their own. This economy really sucked he thought which caused bar owners to act like whores; catering to whoever had the buck and at the moment it’s us, he mused.
Every Wednesday night all my Brothers meet at the Chui’s, in Northridge. We pass out club cards, have a few beers and check out the other bikes. Make small talk with other clubs members who attend. After a couple of hours most of the working guys would split. Then the remaining members would follow our illustrious President to a small cocktail lounge in Reseda for a few more beers and some typical posturing.
With that done, the few remaining stragglers, would somewhere around midnight, go their separate ways. That meant our President would head straight for his favorite titty bar in North Hollywood. He had a long time, on going thing, with the gal that managed the place. He stopped there most nights to see her and find out if he was getting laid that night.
Fortunately, she was a creature of habit and preferred to have sex with him only three nights a week. After watching the pattern for almost a year Tag knew, even if his President didn’t that tonight wasn’t his night; at least not for getting laid!
He shivered the dark sweatshirt jacket no longer enough to keep out the chill. His thick curly black hair swirled around his face from the sudden gust blowing past him. It’s time, he thought watching as the bike pulled out of the alley onto the neighboring street. He of course turned out onto the same street but from the opposite end of the alley.
He stayed back not wanting to crowd the bike or draw suspicion to him self, yet not so far back that he would lose him. Soon he knew they would exit onto a short freeway artery leading to the 138 freeway. He stepped on the gas pedal of the stolen, gun metal gray, 300M passing the bike by a mile.
The bikes headlight could no longer be seen as Tag pulled to the shoulder on the curve of the freeway artery. He quickly slid into the passenger seat, pressing the button which rolled down the window. He hoisted the Remington 870 sawed off, resting its short barrel on the door frame. His finger rested comfortably on the triggers.
With the window down and no traffic on the road, he could hear the bikes approach. Louder and louder, closer and closer, until the bike and its rider were directly next to the idling car. Tag’s steely dark eyes were filled with intensity as took a deep breath. Then he squeezed the trigger gently, empting both barrels simultaneously; as the magnum rounds exploded into a fiery blast. The bike continued on its original trajectory for a few seconds before veering wildly off course. It’s rider no longer in control. Quietly he whispered into the darkness tag your it
!
Chapter Two - (Tag’s Story)
Tag received his nickname in Vietnam. He entered the service with his parents blessing at the tender age of sixteen after years of juvenile delinquency. He excelled in the service mostly because he had little choice. He was a crack shot which originally got the attention of his Sergeant then his other commanding officers. Immediately after successfully completing boot camp in the Marine’s he was summarily sent off to sniper school.
For the first time in his young life he was doing something he truly enjoyed and he surpassed everyone’s expectations, including his own. In sniper school he broke many records earning him a quick trip to