Nonstop violence in a debut thriller about sociopaths on wheels.
If you belong to the Infidelz, the preeminent motorcycle club in northern California, you’d better be ready to maim and kill at a moment’s notice. But that’s okay: you like maiming and killing. It’s why you hooked up in the first place. “Patch” Kinkade, alienated, battle-scarred, encyclopedically tattooed—“skulls, gargoyles, fiery crosses, tombstones, thunderballs, and . . . the names of ex-girlfriends”—is a lurid case in point. For 23 years, better than half his life, he’s worn the black and orange (complete with demon skull) of Infidelz. He’s served as club president; earned membership in its elite 187 Crue (187, to honor the murder statute in California's penal code); been anointed a 1%er (“the baddest of the bad”); and so on down an unabashedly sociopathic list. But, as the story opens, Patch has decided, for personal reasons, to forsake Oakland—scene of his glory days. Throwing a leg across his beloved Mean Machine (a Harley Road King), he heads for Arizona and new citizens to intimidate—though not for long. During his brief absence, internecine war has broken out. As a result of a bad night at Trader’s Roadhouse, bikers from the Gun Runners, the 2Wheelers, and Soul Sacrifice, others joining in along the way, have taken to killing each other off. So far, Infidelz isn’t directly involved, but everyone knows it soon will be, and that Patch, plus his weapon of choice, a seven-inch Schrade blade, will be needed. He owns a lot of Schrades. Why not? Multipurposed and sturdy, they’re also cheap enough to “leave stuck in some unlucky victim.”
Barger, an ex-president of the notorious Hell’s Angels, has authored (with an assist from the Zimmermans) nonfiction about biker activities and clearly knows whereof he speaks—if that’s a recommendation.