Savage Saints MC Series (Complete Box Set)

by Hazel Parker

  Sword reached into the man’s pockets and found the key to the gate, unlocking it and leading us inside. I took Sensei, Mafia, and Splitter, while BK, Krispy, and Sword went to the other side. We pressed ourselves against the wall of the first entrance. I peered into a window and saw two DMs talking with each other, oblivious to the mission that we had just undertaken. I nodded to Splitter.

  He went up to the window, lined up his pistol, and laid down two perfect shots with ease.

  “Clear,” he whispered.

  “And with the silencer,” I remarked, not even realizing that he had added that.

  “Perks of the coke run,” he said with a smirk.

  We headed inside, broke the first lock we found, and smiled. There had to have been about a dozen rifles and clips inside, with about five more boxes in similar fashion.

  “Let’s get ‘em loaded into the truck,” I said. “Splitter, Sensei, give us some cover. Mafia, a hand?”

  Mafia tossed his cigarette to the side, hoisting the box with me as we moved it out back to the truck at hand. The three members of the club quickly opened the back as we hoisted it on, with Krispy and Sword doing the same from the other side of the warehouse. I dusted my hands once we got out.

  This was all going according to plan.

  Perhaps… a little too well.

  “Wait,” I said, pausing BK when we closed the truck. “Don’t you find it odd that the Mercs haven’t come for us at all?”

  BK, seemingly silently understanding what I said, quickly pulled out the boxes and removed the guns.

  Sure enough, there was a bomb at the bottom of the box that we had grabbed, although it did not look active or near explosion. Still, the call had been too close.

  “Assholes knew we’d pull something like this,” Sensei said. “Diablo is one smart cookie. We should’ve known…”

  “We dodged the worst of this, OK?” I said. “Move that box as goddamn far away as possible. Let’s check out the other boxes in there and move them in once they’re clear. Let’s not do more than three. We don’t need to be sitting ducks any longer than we have to.”

  “Could always use their own armory against them,” Splitter suggested. “Give ‘em a taste of their own fucking medicine.”

  I smiled at the aggressiveness of my VP, but I had to override him here.

  “Not gonna risk it,” I said. “What happens when there’s twenty of them and ten of us? Or if they have something else? Let’s just get in, do two more runs, plant the bombs, and get the hell out. Or do I have to put that to a vote too?”

  A snort came when the men saw that I was kidding. No one, of course, asked for such a thing in the heat of the mission, and we went back inside to complete the raid. We got the next set out fine, without any bombs. We did the same for our last run, and again, no bomb.

  “Wonder why they only did it for one,” Splitter said. “Assholes probably just got lazy.”

  No, they didn’t get lazy. We’re missing something. Are we sure that’s a bomb?

  “Don’t underestimate the DMs,” Sensei warned. “They wouldn’t have just overlooked something like this. Maybe that one bomb is powerful enough to kill all of us, and they didn’t want to waste any resources.”

  “It’s away from us, right? Then let’s not waste any more goddamn time,” I said. “BK, Split, charges, and let’s roll out. The rest of you, on your bikes or in the truck. We need to get out of this godforsaken dump before anything…”

  My voice trailed off as I heard the distant sound that could only mean one thing.

  “Fucking Mercs,” I muttered. “Get on your bikes, plant the bombs, and let’s roll!”

  BK and Splitter grabbed the charges from the back of the truck, slammed the door shut, hurried to their bikes, and started the drive over to the warehouse. The rest of us followed them, constantly looking over our shoulders and to the sides for the incoming DMs. We got to the actual warehouse, with BK and Splitter charging up the steps, their bikes still on, when the headlights came from the far end.

  “How long we got till those bombs blow?”

  “How long?” BK yelled.

  There is no “how long.”

  “Shit!” I yelled, realizing we’d have to fly straight into the teeth of the great white shark as it opened its jaws. “All right boys, guns out, fire away, and just bust through!”

  “Are you fucking mad?” Sensei yelled.

  “Yeah, and we don’t got another choice.”

  Some of the men grumbled and cursed, but I could think of no better way to prove my commitment to the team, my dedication to the club, and the elimination of any doubt of my role than by setting the tone. I revved my engine, pulled out my shotgun, and blazed ahead, hitting sixty on the speedometer in a matter of seconds.

  About three seconds later, the bombs exploded, all but defeaning me. I aimed my shotgun forward and charged straight at the DMs, firing away. I would never admit this to the rest of the club, but I closed my eyes—I didn’t need the last thing I saw to be a pissed off rival, just in case this stunt caused me to die.

  Fortunately, the incredible audacity of the plan paid off. The bikers quickly moved to the side, a couple of them skidding out and falling to the side. I definitely heard the sound of rifle fire coming after me and behind me, but with a sharp—almost too sharp—turn to the left, I was home free. I looked behind me to see six bikers coming and a van with a whole lot of bullet holes in it.

  I couldn’t help it as I smiled, raised my gun in the air, and yelled out “fuck yeah!” I don’t think I dropped my hand until I finally got back to the shop, all of us in a feeling of euphoria as we jumped off the bikes, yelling and hugging in celebration.

  “That’s what I’m fucking talking about!” Splitter roared. “Trace got some motherfuckin’ balls of iron and steel!”

  “That ain’t a sissy move, I’ll tell you that,” BK said.

  “I’m in disbelief, you see?” Mafia said, suddenly a lot more talkative now that we had escaped. “I think that I got shot a few times, but I am still standing, you see?”

  “Unreal,” I said as I finally calmed down. “Did anyone get hit?”

  “Hell, I took something,” Splitter said. “But it was as light as a feather. I’d be surprised if I got anything more than a burn from the bullet whizzing by.”

  I looked at his arm to see that he wasn’t kidding. He was bleeding, but it wasn’t the fountain-flow of a wound that had severed an artery. Rather, it looked like he had driven back a thorn on a bush, nicking it and drawing a clear line of blood. He’d gotten lucky, but we’d all gotten lucky to some extent in protecting Green Hills.

  “Anyone else?”

  No one else volunteered, which meant either we really had escaped with minimal damage or some of the bikers were just too stubborn to admit they’d gotten hit. Which, with guys like Krispy and BK, was certainly not out of the question.

  “All right, let’s take a look at the spoils.”

  One of the members opened the back, and we all hurried through the various AK-47s we had seized. This was enough weaponry for each man to have about three guns a piece, and the ammo inside meant we had enough to engage in a literal war, digging trenches on each side, and provide continuous fire for a good couple of days. Given that most shootouts didn’t last more than a few minutes, it was an understatement to say we were well-stocked.

  Still…

  “That did seem a bit easy,” I said.

  “We checked; there’s no bombs,” Sword said.

  “Yeah, but I’m thinking we missed something. Maybe they’re tracking us or something, I don’t know.”

  It wasn’t a secret where we had our headquarters, but just like striking the White House would have caused America to obliterate any other country off the map, striking our headquarters was a great way to ensure the full destruction of a rival MC. Even one as powerful as the DMs didn’t dare hit Peters Automotive Repair—by the same token, though, we didn’t strike at Diablo’s home for the v
ery reason: we didn’t want Green Hills to turn into Red River.

  “BK?”

  “I can take a look at it, no problem,” he said. “We’ll use the electromagnetic device; it’ll pick up anything that’s tracking or measuring in there.”

  “Good,” I said.

  I took a chance to pull out my first cigarette since just before we’d gone on the mission. It was supposed to be my come-down moment, but instead, all of the thoughts that I had pushed away during the mission came rushing back to me, as if held by a poorly-made dam that magically was perfect during the mission and now had crumbled under my own weight.

  I immediately wondered what Jane would say about a mission like this. Would she find me idiotic for doing something as brash as charging straight ahead at the DMs? Would she find it brave? What would she think overall?

  How would I feel if she hated what I had done?

  Did it even matter to think such questions for the time being?

  The other boys broke out into their own chatter. I noticed Splitter giving me a look as I went into the tank, but with the mission successfully completed, he didn’t have much room to call me out on anything.

  Still, I wasn’t a fool. I knew that in his mind, one successful mission did not magically mean that all of our issues had gotten magically resolved. There were still questions to be had, some of them legitimate, some of them more superficial, about my ability to focus on what was best for the club.

  “Clear,” BK said, suddenly snapping me out of my stupor. “All clear, boss.”

  “Just like that, huh,” I said, allowing myself a smile.

  No more threats for tonight. The DMs crippled. The Savage Saints, restocked.

  It was time to enjoy ourselves.

  “Boys,” I said. “I think it’s time to celebrate.”

  * * *

  Within an hour, the clubhouse had gone from a private meeting grounds for the Savage Saints to relax, discuss strategy, and bond to a place that resembled a frat party—except instead of having to share the place with equal numbers of guys and girls, the place had a ratio of about one guy for every two and a half girls. Some of the boys, like Splitter, Krispy, and Sword wasted no time taking advantage, disappearing to private rooms—or just a back corner, some really didn’t give a fuck—with at least one girl, sometimes two.

  Others, like Sensei, preferred to let the girls come to them. Sensei wasn’t remaining chaste ever since his wife died, but it was clear that he was in no rush to get laid and get past her memory.

  As for me?

  I could have snapped my fingers and had any woman in the club come with me to give me what I wanted. I could have looked at anyone, nodded to them, and any of them would have come with me. Maybe not some of the old ladies, but then again, such wives and serious girlfriends weren’t going to come to a party like this except for the old lady of the president.

  And while I had no old lady, I only really had an interest in trying to pursue one woman right now. But this seemed like the last place to do it, with girls walking around topless, sex going on right out for all to see in the corner, and body shots going down on the regular. It was pretty much the last place that any girl with white-collar ambitions like Jane would have wanted to be, and it was no surprise that Paul had never, ever allowed her to come to such a party nor allowed her to interact with anyone other than the old ladies of members of the club.

  “Heeeeeey, hey, hey, hey, hey.”

  I turned to see Krispy having returned from his room, wearing only the colors and his boxers. He hadn’t bothered to button his boxers up, and his dick flung out with ease.

  “Man, I did not bring the girls here so I could see that,” I said, shielding my eyes. “Do you mind?”

  But Krispy, instead of taking the hint, seemed to take it as an invitation to lean on me, put his arm around me, and pat me. I made it a point to move my body as far away from him as I could without moving away from the side hug.

  “Bud, buddy, old Trace McTrace, you.”

  “Don’t tell me that’s what the club calls me behind my back.”

  “Nooo, no, no, no, that’s—URRRP—that’s just what I, what I made up. But. Anyyyways!”

  I’d had three shots already, and I felt as sober as a priest in comparison to Krispy right now. At least he had the good sense to tuck his junk back into his shorts, although he wasn’t exactly subtle about the move.

  “Man, Mr. Prez. You are the man. You. Are. The. Man!”

  I just laughed and patted him, feeling more comfortable now that I didn’t have to worry about a swinging dick hitting me.

  “Where’s your gal?” Krispy continued. “The, uhh, the kid of Paul?”

  “Damn, do you gotta put it like that?” I said. “And she’s not my girl. She’s just a friend.”

  “A friend?” Krispy shouted, far louder than I was comfortable with. “A friend? But I heard that… You! That you made out with her!”

  Over his shoulder, I saw Splitter coming in and shot him what could only be described as my best attempt to kill a man with eyes. He took a deep breath, ran his hand through his hair, and shrugged with an attempt to deflate the situation with a smile.

  “Such rumors, Krispy, sound interesting, but she is just a friend. I can admit that I think she is attractive, but I think I can also admit that we are surrounded by a lot of attractive girls here.”

  “Then whyyyyyy, why, brother, are you not takin’ any of them? See, uhh, Candy, I think, Candy over there?”

  I looked over to see a brunette with fake breasts, cleavage that could barely fit the line between cleavage and nudity, and an excessive amount of eyeliner looking at me seductively. My look at her caused her to blow me a kiss. I winked back before turning back to Krispy, intent on trying to keep some distance if I could manage it.

  “That girl… lemme tell you, man. Lemme tell you. What’s mine is yours, right?”

  “All’s fair except old ladies,” I reminded him.

  “Riiiight! Lemme tell ya, that girla suck your cock like she trying to hum a song and play the flute all at the same time!”

  “Does… does that sound like it’s hot to you?” I said, confused as to whether or not I was supposed to think that meant great head.

  “Whaddya mean! Girl could make a jaded porn star, a fucking porn star, come in, like, two minutes if she wanted to!”

  I just laughed, tightening my grip around Krispy’s arm, trying not to notice that Candy was playing with her dress, not so accidentally revealing her entire chest to me.

  “I know you got the hots for Janice—”

  “Jane,” I said.

  “Shit, yeah, my bad. But. But! Just take that gal for a spin, huh? She’ll spin your head upside down, lemme tell ya! Shiiiiit, I’mma take her for seconds in a second if you don’t hurry your—URP—hurry your ass up!”

  The decision was easy.

  “Take her,” I said. “I got a phone call to make.”

  “Huh?”

  “It’s not club related.”

  And then, as if to emphasize the point, I walked over to Candy, trying not to return the expression as her eyes lit up at my arrival.

  “Heard you give some great head,” I said, tucking my hands into my pockets.

  “Care to see how true the rumors are,” she said, putting one finger on my chin.

  I was half-surprised she didn’t just ask me to fuck her right there on the couch. No reason to beat around the bush or her bush, right?

  “As charming as those rumors are, I got an old lady, so I can’t.”

  “Really,” she said, unconvinced. “That’s not what Splitter over there said.”

  I glanced over at Splitter, who pretended to quickly take a shot. I wasn’t fooled, though.

  “Well, Splitter’s not always the most up-to-date,” I said. “In any case, you see my friend over there? The one with his dick half outta his pants?”

  “I couldn’t help but see all of that when I saw you,” she said, now proceeding to m
ove her hand to my ass and groin.

  “Yeah, well, I need you to do me a favor,” I said, grabbing her hand and holding it with the appearance of flirting but really just so she wouldn’t tempt me into a regretful decision.

  “Anything for you,” she whispered. “Anything to make you happy, Trace.”

  She said my name like a hiss, and Goddammit, I had to admit that it was really fucking sexy and tempting.

  But…

  The half-second after I found myself stiff as a statue from the way she said my name, I thought of how Jane would respond if she walked in on me putting that stiff statue into her warmth.

  And it did a pretty damn good job of straightening my mind out.

  “I need you to put him to bed with your skills,” I said.

  “Him?” she said, not bothering to hide her disappointment.

  “Yep,” I said, nodding my head and letting her hand go. “Him.”

  She stared at him, looked at me, then put her hands on her hips.

  “Who is this girl, Trace?”

  All of the flirtation in her voice was gone, replaced by genuine curiosity.

  “You’ll see her around,” I said.

  There was some thought to telling her that it was Jane Peters, but that seemed unnecessary. I didn’t need one of our mamas to start harassing Jane—it wouldn’t have been the first time such underhanded tactics had taken place out of jealousy at a new woman in the club. The boys would have respected the last name, and the old ladies would have, but to the new mamas, it was mere trivia, nothing to be acknowledged as relevant.

  “But worry about her when you see her,” I said, gently patting her arm. “Go take care of him, OK? I’ll make it worthwhile.”

  I said it with a wink, perhaps giving her false hope for a later time, but I’d cross that burning bridge when I got to it. Candy smiled, winked back at me, and made her way over to Krispy, who suddenly seemed to light up as if someone had placed a newfound Christmas present by his front porch. I took the chance to reevaluate the party and saw that, while it would still be going until everyone passed out, most of the boys had already done that. The few remaining girls were attaching themselves to some of the less experienced and less notorious members, perhaps having realized they weren’t going to snag the big guns tonight.