Lost Soul (The Dirty Souls MC Book 1)

by Emma Creed

  You Jessie. I want you.

  I hear the words in my head, and just like when I was ten years old, with a letter written on pretty pink stationary. I hide them away again.

  “What I really want is a burger and a shake from Bernie’s.” I smile a fake smile, and when he snuffles a laugh back at me, I feel myself fall that little bit harder for him.

  PRESENT DAY

  There’s tension in the room. The sort that has every fucker sat around the table on edge. We’re here, in church, to discuss the latest in a long piss stream of fuck-ups, and there’s no surprise that it involves the Bastards. It always involves the fucking Bastards.

  Our rival club is situated about twenty miles south of town, and despite being taught the consequences enough times, they’re increasingly bringing their shit to Manitou Springs. These days the fuckers weren’t even showing us enough respect to be sly about it.

  Over the years the Dirty Souls have built stable relations with the local PD. A relationship that up to now has worked perfectly. We uphold our side of the deal and keep the town clean, and as a thank you they keep the fuck out of our business.

  Recent Bastard behavior is jeopardizing our agreement and making our job increasingly difficult. There’s been a sudden influx of local kids using, and despite what the people in town are thinking, we ain’t the ones supplying.

  We ain’t stupid enough to shit on our own doorstep.

  As if all that isn’t enough to deal with, The Bastard scum seemed to be getting the upper hand on all our deals just lately.

  They somehow know all that’s coming in and what’s going out. And they’re undercutting us on all the big deals.

  They’re always one move ahead of us, and every brother sat around this table knows we can’t let that shit lie for much longer.

  The room’s clouded with smoke, the sun pouring through the glass windows reflecting their colors on the huge wooden table that centers the old chapel.

  Ten years ago, when the club took over this run-down holiday resort, the irony that it had its own chapel wasn’t lost on Prez. The pews where past vacationers would sit to pray on Sundays were ripped out and replaced with the club table and a gavel. These days, it ain’t songs of praise that echo these walls. Plans are made for gun and drug runs, and the names of the damned are whispered when anyone tries fucking up our shit.

  “They have to be getting their intel from somewhere.” Skid’s fist lands heavy on the table, the guy isn’t known to fling his kibby very often. In fact, he’s the calmest out of the lot of us. Skid always keeps his shit together. It’s what makes him the perfect road captain. He thinks about everything strategically, never acts on impulse. So to see him so wound up makes all this a shit load more serious.

  “What you saying, Skid? You think someone's ratting?” Prez’s VP, Chop, folds up his arms and leans back in his chair, making sure his wide chest puffs out.

  “Is that what I fuckin’ said?” Skid throws himself up from his seat, looking set to launch at his brother across the table. “Don’t spit words into my mouth,” he warns, pointing his finger at Chop. I look across the table at Troj, both of us thinking the same thing. That if these two were gonna start, it’s gonna take a hella lot to stop them.

  “Hey, guys, chill the fuck down.” Troj’s arm slams across Skid’s chest, thankfully it’s enough to ease him back down into his seat, though his dark eyes still burn like lasers at Chop.

  “We all know there ain’t no one around this table who would rat. There’s got to be something else.” Troj seems satisfied that he’s calmed Skid, and sits himself back down. He got his patch a few months after me and took over Skid’s role as Sergeant at arms when he became road captain last year.

  Troj may be young, but like me, he’s earnt his place around this table.

  “Way I see it, they can’t go on undercutting us for much longer, we were dragging our balls through a grinder to make some of them deals pay, right Thorne?” Troj looks down the table to our club secretary, and Thorne nods back, running his fingers through his short, slightly greying hair.

  “I can’t figure how they're making it pay. No one’s paying more than four hundred for an AK nowadays. It was barely worth the run for us with the price we offered. I can’t see how they could come in any higher… Unless it ain't money that’s the issue.” Thorne’s judgmental eyes set on Squealer, who immediately holds up his hands in defense.

  “Nah-ah, don’t try dumping that shit at my feet.” His head shakes.

  “Well, the Russians were happy to throw business our way before it happened,” Thorne makes a valid point.

  “How was I supposed to know she was a fucking relation? She was at the party. She was free game.” Squealer shrugs looking to his twin brother Screwy sat on his right side, and then to Grimm on his left like they should agree with him.

  “So, the fucking accent never gave her away,” Chop laughs, earning him another scowl across the table from his brother Skid.

  “If you’re implying that me burying the bone into Fedulov’s sister is the reason the Russians are looking at other buyers, then you’re wrong. The fuckers should be giving us the guns for free after the shift I put in to that one.”

  “It wasn’t his sister, Squeal, it was his daughter,” Tac corrects, trying to curb his amused grin.

  “Yeah… well there may be a tiny chance that it was both.” Squealer pulls an awkward face, then uses his tongue to flip the wooden pick that sits between his perfectly straight teeth.

  Most people believe it’s his twin Screwy who’s the unhinged one. And sure, that guy’s head is fucked beyond any fixing. I’ve never heard him talk in all the years I’ve known him. But you have to question who the real psycho of the family is. The sixteen-year-old kid who one day, flipped and killed his father with his bare fists. Or the twin brother who banged his head against a solid brick wall until he was guaranteed a stint in the loony trap right alongside him.

  “None of that shit fucking matters,” Prez shouts across the table. “We can’t blame Squealer and his dick for the deal with the Mexicans falling through last month.”

  “Nope, ain’t had Mexican pussy for months…” Squealer nods proudly. Making a pretend gun out of his fingers, he cocks it with his other hand, then points it towards Thorne before he fires.

  “Speaking of Mexican, that shit’s getting far too fuckin’ regular downtown, it’s startin’ to become a problem. We need to get a message out to the Bastards. They wanna deal, they do it on their own territory. Got any ideas, Jess?” Prez looks to me now.

  After just a year of being patched, I got a role of my own too; Club Enforcer. I learned from one of the best, Vex, and took over from him when he retired. Prez didn’t have to ask which way I wanted to deal with this shit. He knows I’ll want to handle it the same way we had four years ago when the Bastards screwed us...

  Brutally.

  But this time we have to be smart, think about what’s best for the club and the town we’re protecting. Right now, all we need is to ruffle enough feathers for them to know that dealing in Manitou Springs won’t be tolerated.

  “Figure the Bastards have trappers running their shit around town,” I start. “Ain’t no way they’ll have enough balls to show up around here themselves. We could start by finding out who their guys are. I could play around with the fuckers for a few hours, test their loyalties before we send them back to Clunk and his boys with a message.” I spin the handle of my knife in my hand. It’s surprising how inventive I can get with a blade and flesh when I put my mind to it.

  “We could keep any product for ourselves, enjoy a night sampling what we missed out on,” Tac suggests.

  “Fuckin’ party ehhhhh kid.” Squealer grabs Grimm by his shoulders, shaking him roughly, trying to evoke even the slightest reaction from him. But the cold expression doesn’t leave Grimm’s face, only his eyes flick sideways to eyeball Squealer before he rolls them away again.

  Grimm is only a year older than me, but h
e looks so much younger. His frosty-blue eyes contain a good helping of psycho, he chooses to stay pretty much silent, but unlike Screwy, Grimm will speak up when it’s necessary. I guess he just never has all that much to say.

  Conveniently, Grimm has a condition called OCD, obsessive-compulsive disorder. It works to our advantage and has earnt him the role as leader, master, and fucking king of the clean-up crew. The kid is insane good at cleaning up the nasty shit that club business sometimes leaves behind, and guaranteed, there isn’t anything Grimm wouldn’t have thought of and erased all traces of before he leaves a scene.

  “That will be a start,” Prez nods his head at me. “Skid, get Rogue to do some listening around town, see if she can find out some names of dealers. If she insists on hanging around here like fuck warts on a whore, she might as well make herself useful.”

  “I’ll talk to her boss,” Skid tips his chin. Rogue means a lot to Skid, none of us know much about her other than the fact she’s a hard bitch who can fix an engine better than most the men in this room. She’s been helping out Skid and Chop at the garage since she was a kid.

  “Tommy could ask around too,” Chop adds.

  Yeah, you heard that right, Tommy too good to be a fucking Dirty Soul himself became a prospect last month.

  Tommy is Chop’s son, and Chop is one of the oldest members of this Charter, he’s a no shit kinda guy and despite coming off as an ass most of the time, is respected by everyone. That went a long way in making the decision to take Tommy on as our newest prospect, not what he could actually bring to the club.

  It’s obvious to most of us that Tommy doesn’t have an ounce of Dirt in him. I reckon we’d have come off better offering Rogue the prospect Jacket, and if she’d been born with a dick we would of.

  We already have Nyx, he’s been prospecting over a year now and would be getting his patch before long. We needed someone to take his place, and as Tommy was already trusted by the club, it had seemed a better option than letting in an outsider.

  “I’ll get Nyx to speak with some of the fresher’s when they come in the shop,” Tac goads Chop.

  Tac is Nyx’s sponsor. It means he’s responsible for him. He’d brought Nyx to us after he’d taken him on as an apprentice at the tattoo studio. Despite the chip Nyx has fixed on his shoulder he’s a good kid. He gets shit done, which is more than could be said for fucking Tommy, who in my opinion might as well have a pair of tits.

  “Nyx. Really? Kid ain’t got no friends, no fucking respect either if you ask me,” Chop sniggers back at Tac, and the look on Tac’s face says just about what everyone around the table beside Chop is thinking. Sure, Nyx is another quiet one, no one can ever entirely be sure what’s spiraling around in his head. He’s a little reckless, and doesn’t let anyone talk down to him. But no one doubts his reliability. He’s proven his worth to this club on more than a few occasions.

  “They can all put the feelers out, ain’t gonna hurt. See which of them comes through for us,” Skid says aiming a smug look right at Chop. He’s laying down a challenge, and my bucks are on his little protégé being the one that pulls through. That bitch is savage. Skid’s eyes are set like concrete, and I swear I hear Chop hiss under his breath.

  I have no fucking idea what’s going on with the two of them, but it’s taking sibling rivalry to a new extreme.

  “Settled.” Prez slams down the gavel, and one by one the brothers make their way out of the large oak door and into the daylight.

  Church finishes up, just in time for me to get in my truck and drive to pick Hayley up from college. With her dad being president of the club, money is never set to be a problem for her, but she still insists on getting herself a good education.

  I always pick her up on a Friday and we grab something to eat at Bernie’s. It’s our thing. Not something Prez has ever asked me to do, but something I do because I want to.

  Hayley’s turned in to a sassy thing since moving to the club, and although she still pisses me off like a bratty little sister, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy hanging out with her.

  Prez never spoke about anyone else taking over the job of looking out for her. Neither of us had to say it out loud, we both knew it would always be me. Way I see it she’s as much my responsibility as she was the Prez’s and as annoying as she can be, I love her for it.

  I wait in the truck, outside Pine Peaks College, watching her skip excitedly down the steps when she sees me. She swings open the door and hops inside, leaning over to peck me on the cheek before I pull off.

  “You’re in a good mood, pretty girl.” I smile, Hayley always cheers me up when shit gets too much, so she is just what I need after the intensity of church today.

  “I got invited to a party tomorrow night,” she tells me, clapping her hands together like a performing chimp.

  “And… you know your daddy ain’t never gonna let you go to it,” I remind her, feeling bad for having to burst her ecstatic little bubble. Though her smile doesn’t drop like I expect it to.

  “Well, I did worry about that, but then I had an idea…”

  “Shit that sounds dangerous.” I side glance her and wait for one of her snappy responses.

  “Oi.” She punches my arm. Hard. It makes me proud, I obviously taught her well.

  “Come on then out with it, what’s the plan?” I give in and ask.

  “I was thinking that he might let me go if someone he trusted agreed to come with me.” The way she looks up at me, doing that cute as a fuckin’ kitten thing she does with her eyes pre warns me for what’s coming next.

  “Ohhhhh no. Not a fuckin’ chance, Hay,” I laugh, parking the truck outside Bernie’s. I’m still laughing to myself as we walk across the lot towards the door.

  “You know if I ask Daddy…” she starts, still trying to be cute as she jogs to catch up with me, I did wonder how long it would take for the brat I know and love to show up. She will try to pull the princess card, and she should know by now it won’t work on me. So, I play back the only way I know.

  “Yeah, he’d make me go babysit you. And Hayley, I would babysit you… Club style,” I warn, opening the door and stepping aside for her to enter the diner. She rolls her eyes at me because she knows I’ve won and the girl hates being defeated. We walk straight to our usual booth, and I wait for her next brainwave to hit.

  The place is crammed on a Friday, but our booth was always left empty. Our waitress, Debbie, makes us priority and our regular order is placed in front of us within ten minutes of us sitting down. I’m just about to sink my teeth into the best burger in the state when the bell above the door makes me look up, and I see my other Friday afternoon treat step inside.

  I know jack shit about the girl, just that there’s something that makes her real fuckin’ special, and that I fail to be capable of concentrating on a damn thing whenever I see her. She never notices me, in fact, I sometimes wonder if she notices anything at all. Whoever she is, she seems completely detached from her surroundings, and oblivious to the damage she could do to a guy, especially one like me.

  She’s nothing like the girls who hang out at the club. The ones pushing their lips and tits together, begging to be noticed. She moves as though she doesn’t want to be seen, like she’s content to fade into the background. But she fails to with me. There ain’t words to describe her, not ones that I know how to put into a sentence anyway. Just that she’s fucking beautiful, so beautiful that every time I see her I wonder if I made her up.

  Today, like all the times I’ve seen her, her long blonde hair is pulled up off her face, tied up in a neat bun on top of her head. She’s got that real English-rose complexion, light, milky skin that my fingers twitch to reach out and touch, to test if it feels as soft as it looks. Her iris’s illuminate her eyes, making them pop from beneath the black-rimmed glasses that sit over the bridge of her delicate little nose.

  I can’t help picturing her pink, naturally full lips wrapped around my cock whenever I look at them. And it ain’t
helped at all by the fact that every time I see her, she’s chewing down on the bottom one.

  Today is no different from the other Fridays. She glides into Bernie’s completely unnoticed by everyone except me. I don’t understand how it’s possible, but I don’t take it for granted. I’d hate anyone else looking at her the way I do, maybe even enough to kill whoever tried. The girl is my undiscovered treasure, and that’s exactly how I want her to stay.

  I watch her settle into a booth, pulling out her laptop from her shoulder bag followed by a textbook that she opens up, and sets to work.

  “Um… earth to Jessie.” Hayley’s voice becomes clearer when she clicks her fingers in front of my face, breaking my focus from the girl. “Have you even been listening to me?”

  “Sorry. What were you saying?” I shake myself back to reality.

  “I said… please… Jessie. Like I’m actually prepared to beg you. Everyone at the club gets to have fun, when do I ever get mine?” she points out, again, trying the ‘poor princess’ look through batting eyelashes.

  “Hay, do you know who that girl is? The one in the booth over to the right, blonde, glasses, wearing the red hoodie.” I don’t actually mean to ignore Hayley’s question this time, and I’m not sure why now, after months of seeing the girl, I decide to share her with Hayley. My mouth just blurted out the question before my head caught up enough to stop it.

  “Who, her?” Hayley cocks her head towards the girl looking gob smacked.

  “Yeah, her,” I whisper, trying to hush down her voice, I don’t want the girl to hear us. When I glance over to check that she hasn’t, and I find her with her lips wrapped around her straw sucking her milkshake through her cheeks, my cock goes into fucking spasm.

  “I don’t know her name, she takes an English class with me though. No one really speaks to her, she’s weird. I mean she doesn’t even wear makeup, and don’t even get me started on her dress sense, it’s tragic.” Hayley picks up a fry and dunks it deep into her strawberry shake, it always makes me cringe when she does that.