Aztec Treasure

Maria Meztli’s POV

Arrowhead Pack Grounds

It was finally happening, and I was nervous as hell about it.

It was Saturday of July 4th weekend, and there were bikers and vehicles EVERYWHERE. A lot had happened in the last few weeks, and we were ready to party. The Sinaloa Cartel was no more; President Kettering had announced the short and brutal war was over two days ago. The conspiracy against her was broken, with dozens imprisoned awaiting trial or cutting deals with the prosecution to testify against the others. And the checks had arrived.

Remember the billion dollars that Spider Monkey liberated from the Sinaloa accounts? Her pardon deal with the Feds allowed her to bring the money into the United States, provided she paid taxes. Spider Monkey and Vic did spend weeks hiding in a cabin in the White Mountains, but they’d been hiding with tax lawyers and financial advisors. BDSM (Big Dog-Spider Monkey) already had millions in the bank, and they wanted to spread the wealth.

How does $30k per Pack member sound? Those were the checks we received in the mail; Vic and Spidey each sent the max $15k tax-exempt gift allowed to each person. And not just in Arrowhead; she did that for every North American Pack. Since Canada has no gift tax, the Blue River, Banff, and Belorutsk Pack members got to keep the full thirty as well. There were a lot of new motorcycles making this trip.

Then, they donated ten million dollars to each Pack’s corporation. The Alphas would use this to fund improvements, buy additional land, or reduce Pack debt. Arrowhead and Oxbow Lake, as the home Packs, each got an additional ten million “because we need a bigger pool,” as the letter said. Chase said he’d get right on that. Finally, she set aside a trust for educational expenses for North American werewolves.

Spider Monkey took care of her Steel Ladies in the deal. She sent a million dollars to each of the Steel Lady chapters in the United States to, and I quote, “buy the shit we need that the men don’t think is important.” I’ve been laughing my ass off as the Ladies showing up told stories of what they are doing with the money; playgrounds, daycare facilities, new furnishings, even a dedicated Ladies-only meeting room. It’s their money, and the Brotherhood can’t touch it.

Finally, BDSM sent me a debit card connected to an account to cover expenses for the first annual Steel Brotherhood Lake Superior Loop ride. I just about fainted when I saw the amount and read what she told me to do with it. Those that showed up, and there were a LOT of them, wouldn’t have to pay a thing. Gas stations? I keep running the card and pay for it all. Hotels? I’ve reserved as many rooms as I can get. Food? I’ve got the tab. For a ten-day ride, it would be quite the bill.

The entire Pack House dining hall was full after breakfast for the pre-ride brief, with all three wings packed with wolves and bikers. Lance and I had worked hard on logistics, and we’d planned a ride with plenty of options for both serious riding and exploring. We laid out the rules and the first day’s ride; we would email out future days the night before. Many of the restaurants along the way wouldn’t be able to handle our entire group at once. In the bigger towns, there would be multiple restaurant options. When there was only one place to eat, I broke the ride into groups who would eat and explore in shifts. I’d also picked a few beaches to stop at and arranged for catering companies to provide food for us there. The ten-day trip required about a hundred and fifty miles of riding a day, which wasn’t a hard pace at all. If we ran into traffic or weather delays, we could easily catch back up.

It wasn’t just the bikers, either. The Loop was a family-friendly ride, and we had two dozen recreational vehicles at the tail end of the formation. The majority of Arrowhead and Oxbow Lake Pack were going, including those not interested in motorcycles but wanting the adventure. They would be driving in the RVs, the support vans, or cars. All in, we had almost two hundred people going, and they were all following my plan.

As you can imagine, with this many people and Packs, communications would be a challenge. Pack Links were the answer to that. I worked it so that each vehicle had a member of the Arrowhead Pack onboard to relay directions. Since we had worked so closely with our landlords during planning, Roadkill was the Road Captain for the ride. He would ride in the front left spot. The Host Chapter President, Alpha Chase, would ride in the front right and relay commands back to all the Pack members. Arrowhead Pack members could then relay it to other Packs to share over their links. Possum would split her time between riding with her old man and watching Rori and the kids in Rori’s new RV.

If someone wanted to head off on their own, that was fine. I handed everyone a paper with the itinerary and waypoints, including the ‘extra’ runs for the adventurous. If you wanted to leave the group for a while, you checked out with the Ride Administrator on duty in the Alpha’s RV and caught up later. If you broke down, one of the Club support vans would break off, and the Prospects along would assist you. If your butt couldn’t handle more saddle time, we had trailers and room in the support vehicles. If there weren’t enough hotel rooms, we’d pack people into the RVs, and we’d brought tents and sleeping bags.

When I finished the briefing on the itinerary and logistics, Roadkill reviewed formation riding practices and hand signals. We had to keep the motorcycles together, or cars would start breaking us up. The riding order was by rank; Brotherhood Presidents and Pack Alphas were in front, followed by Vice Presidents, Master at Arms, and Betas. Patched members were behind them, followed by normal-rank Pack members, prospects, and finally, the cars and RV’s. We had four pairs of ‘blockers’ who would ride near the front; their job was to leapfrog ahead, blocking cross-traffic so our column could stay together. A Pack SUV would be the last vehicle in line, bearing a warning sign on the back of the rider column ahead.

This trip wasn’t a ride; it was a military expedition. The only thing it didn’t have was firearms; since we were going into Canada, our visitors who carried locked them up in our Pack Armory. We had security in numbers; who would mess with dozens of bikers, many of whom turned into wolves?

Alpha Chase and a few Brotherhood leaders finished up the brief, and it was time to ride. Lance was back with the Prospects, and I was riding with him. As much as I enjoyed our last trip when I rode alone, I had a lot going on this trip. I knew I might have to help handle crises from the RV once in a while, and I didn’t want to load my bike every time that happened. Riding next to me was FBI Agent Lana Black, assigned to my protection on the trip. She was the only armed person in the group, with the Royal Canadian Mounted Police granting her permission. She was riding a BMW 1250 RT touring bike in bright white, and it stood out among the chrome and black of the Harleys.

The line stretched from the main entry to Arrowhead to the beach. Chase fired up his Harley, and like a rolling wave, the noise moved from front to back as everyone started their bikes. The local Sheriff did us a solid, a cruiser with flashing lights leading us through Two Harbors and north on Highway 61.

The first stop was optional but was a must for first-time visitors. Split Rock Lighthouse is one of the most-photographed buildings in Minnesota, and the State Park is a lot of fun. A little over half the group pulled in for a 90-minute stop; the rest continued north to Grand Marais and Sven and Ole’s Pizza, the lunch stop on our tour. When they finished eating, the lighthouse group was arriving. Chase led a group on a short ride up into the Lakes area while others shopped in the tourist town. We all left together, heading for the next tour stop. We all pulled into a rest area just before the Grand Portage Border Crossing.

Chase herded everyone back to the trails heading to the High Falls on the Pigeon River while Possum and the others herded me into Rori’s RV. Ten minutes later, with my hair done and a veil over my face, the group led me up to where everyone was waiting below the Falls. I started crying as I spotted Lance waiting for me in his Prospect cut, Chase standing by his side. “Are you ready to get married,” Roadkill asked.

“Absolutely,” I told him as I wiped tears, thankful for waterproof mascara. Someone had a boom box playing the wedding march, and tourists and bikers alike were taking pictures of us as we walked up the trail to them. One of the Brotherhood members was an ordained minister, and the service flew by. We exchanged vows and rings, he pronounced us husband and wife, and I kissed the hell out of him. Twenty minutes later, we were back on the road and heading to Thunder Bay for dinner and our first night.

We left our group at dinner early and made the most of our wedding night.