Free Tarnished Steel by Carmen Faye

right.
     
    The spring air was a bit chilly, and she was glad she had chosen to wear her thick leather jacket. They rode slightly staggered with Hank in front and her following on the other side of the lane. He rode fast, as if he were riding into something and was going to meet it head on.
     
    We are. We are riding into something, and I’m going with him.
     

 
    CHAPTER TEN
     
    Cyn was surprised at the number of members in attendance for a Monday evening. The group wasn’t anything like Friday night or Saturday, but it was still more than Cyn expected. There were at least fifty bikes out front and a group of perhaps ten more on the side. This, with the fifteen or so cars and trucks in the lot, suggested to Cyn that something was going on. Granted, she had never been to the club on a Monday before, so perhaps this was a normal crowd. But as soon as she and Hank crossed the threshold, the air of expectancy was too thick to ignore. The crowd had a purpose for being here, and their attention was determinately focused on Hank, and on her, since she was with Hank.
     
    She looked up at Hank, who appeared not to notice the tension in the room at all. He leaned down and kissed her forehead, and then said, “I’ll be right back. I have to drop in on Knight for a moment.” He took the stairs and she could feel the crowd watch him go.
     
    The expectancy remained the same as their eyes followed him through the room. She could tell where he was by the feeling of everyone’s focus.
     
    She smiled at this, told herself she was getting paranoid, and went to the bar area. Spotting Larry, she gave him a wave and he motioned to the stool beside him.
     
    Conversations were picking back up around the room as she sat down next to Larry.
     
    “It’s not usually this crowded on a Monday night, is it?” she asked casually.
     
    “Perceptive as always, my dear,” Larry agreed.
     
    “What is going on?” she asked him.
     
    “I believe the technical term is ‘witch hunt,’ where Hank is the witch and Derrick has been promoting himself as the man with the burning oil.”
     
    “No peep as to what he’s going to drop?” she asked.
     
    “Not a word, but he has made it sound like it is on the level of pureeing live babies,” Larry told her.
     
    “Oh, shit,” she hissed.
     
    “You know something?”
     
    “Not really, but I feel something, and I’m thinking this could get ugly,” she murmured, and she signaled for a beer.
     
    Hank came down the stairs. The focus of the crowd once again moved with him while he moved unhindered and went to the middle of the bar, ignoring her waved invitation.
     
    He ordered a beer and left cash on the bar for future drinks, letting everyone know that he planned on staying for a while tonight.
     
    Then Derrick was behind him, but distant enough for polite conversation.
     
    “Eight months this time, Hank. That’s a long time,” Derrick began.
     
    Hank turned slowly and leaned casually back on the bar with his elbow. “You’ve got something to say, Derrick, and most of these folks are here for the show, probably at your invite. So, just say it so I can get some dinner and these folks can get back to real life.”
     
    “I know what you’ve been doing,” Derrick said. “You’ve been running drugs.”
     
    “And?” Hank said, extremely bored.
     
    Cyn tensed up. “Oh shit,” she hissed.
     
    Derrick smiled. “You’ve been running them for Orlin Ruiz.”
     
    The bar was suddenly as still as a morgue.
     
    Hank set his bottle down and took out his phone. He speed dialed a number. “Yes, it’s me. You were right all along. I never saw this one coming, but it’s deranged, even for him. I’m asking for tribunal.”
     
    Hank nodded his head twice, listening, and then hung up the phone.
     
    The room was even quieter than before.
     
    “You deny it?” Derrick said, but there was a hint of insecurity in his voice.
     
    “Not only that, Derrick, but I’m saying you are