Russian Roulette, Part IV

outlaws mc, hells angels, outlaw motorcycles, motorcycle fiction

Bobby's past catches up with him in part four of the Bobby Bryant Series. Having to deal with the stress and trauma of war and undercover work, Bobby puts himself and his loved ones at risk. But help comes at the right time from his friend and former Marine, Marcus, who helps Bobby put the pieces of his life back together before it is too late.


The strong thunderstorm appeared without notice. The cool breeze that replaced the heat of the sun, a telltale sign that rain was coming, escaped Bobby. With nothing but open road before him, Bobby took cover inside a large construction pipe that was just off the main highway of US-27. Waiting out the storm should have been to Bobby’s physical benefit, as he throttled at over one hundred miles per hour, believing the faster he rode, the faster his problems would be left behind. However, the flashbacks, the anxiety, and the panic attacks continued. To make matters worse, he left without so much as saying a word to Anny.


Bobby had been lying to himself, believing the thoughts, images and memories that kept pouring into his mind were under control. He thought the trauma and the atrocities of war were put behind him, but the images were always there as a stark reminder of his past. Another bolt of lightning startled him, his entire body tensed, then slowly but surely his muscles relaxed. The sound of rain drops hitting the ground sounded familiar. His memories transported him to a mission in the mountains of the Central Region of Nicaragua where he had spent a month in hiding and searching with his team while at the same time living off MRE’s, squirrels, rats, snakes and the occasional fish. Their mission was to find a small village within the mountains were a top leader of Somoza’s regime was hiding. The communist leader’s body guards were no match for Bobby and his team.

The sunny day was quickly enveloped by the storm, casting darkness in the middle of the afternoon. An ominous feeling overwhelmed Bobby. Each flash of lightning triggered another suppressed memory. Faces of the many he killed appeared in his mind’s eye along with those of his fellow Marines that returned home in a casket draped with an American flag. Countless of times Bobby flew in the belly of a C-130 with rows of flag draped coffins to his side. He dreaded landing at MacDill Air Force Base and seeing the family of slain soldiers crying, destroyed emotionally, waiting to see the coffins being carried out by members of the military. It was always the most difficult part of his job and one he dreaded. He always made sure to have his Ray-Bans on.

The violent storm came in squalls. Bobby removed a .38 Smith & Wesson from his ankle holster. He opened the chamber and let the bullets tumble out into the palm of his hand. He slid one bullet back into the chamber, spun the chamber and closed it shut with a snap of his wrist.