Chaotic Anger: The Seven MC Book 1

by Breck, A. R.

  West slides the ashtray over to me as I light another cigarette. Silence fills the room as I look at the boys. My brothers.

  My dad, Lynx, is a tall, broad man with dark brown hair pulled into a ponytail at the nape of his neck. A thick beard covers his frown lines that have started to show these last few years. He’s a man that’s rough around the edges. Too many years of keeping this place together. Tattoos litter his body, like most of us. We’ve got a member, Jex, who’s a tattoo artist. He has a little room here at the club for us. It’s why most of us are inked to hell.

  Pops is only forty-five, and he doesn’t look a day older, but I see his exhaustion lingering underneath the surface. Mostly with this Santiago shit, it’s taking a toll on him. On all of us. But because he’s the President, he takes it in stride. Underneath all his exhaustion sits pride for this club and everyone around him. He’s a good man.

  Next to Pop’s sits Pascal. He’s Road Captain. Only a few years younger than my dad, they grew up together and are tight as shit. Where my dad has a niceness about him, Pascal doesn’t. He’s a rough motherfucker and mean as hell most of the time. Club is number one, but sometimes Pascal forgets that, spending days out on his bike and not giving a shit about anyone around him. He works right underneath my dad, and he’s one of the guys I trust the most, but the fucker doesn’t care about much else besides the club, his bike, and getting into a wet Jessie.

  Beside Pascal sits West. West is the Sergeant of Arms. He’s the youngest of our seven, only twenty-three to my twenty-five. His youth shows when we have parties, floating through multiple women a night. Not that I blame the guy, I used to be that way at that age. His blonde, surfer hair and blue eyes make the girls flock to him like he’s the last man on earth. He’s one of my boys, and even though he likes to party, he also knows when to shove that shit aside and do his job. He makes sure the rules are enforced and has ripped the patches off a few members in the past for not following the rules. He might seem like he doesn’t have a bad bone in his body, but I’ve seen his other side. All I know is, I wouldn’t want to be on the other side of his barrel. He’s greedy as hell, but he puts the club first, and that’s why he’s my closest brother in the club.

  Cassius sits next to West at the other end of the table. He’s the Enforcer, making sure shit is done how it’s supposed to, and following along with Pascal on a lot of his runs. He likes to fight, always choosing to be first in line when we go to battle. His pops died the other year, and since then, he’s been drowning himself in booze and women. The only thing that forces him of his spiral lately is to go on runs, so we make sure he’s with Pascal most of the time. He’s a tall man, covered in tattoos from the base of his neck to the knuckles on his fingers.

  Niles sits beside him. He’s a member, about as new as West is. He spent a lot of time as a prospect and proved his worth. Took him a while, the guy is slow as fuck. We don’t know if he’s got something wrong with him or what, but when he came to us all the way from the east coast at the age of eighteen with only the clothes on his back, we knew we had to give him a chance.

  Finally, next to me sits Jex. Jex is an interesting character. He’s the Treasurer of the club. Our fucking accountant, basically. Dude used to be out on the road with us, doin’ deals and shootin’ people like it was his calling. But about eight years ago, something happened on one of his runs. He doesn’t talk about it, but the mean scar that cuts through his face and ends near his mouth tells me that it was something serious. His eyes and demeanor have darkened since that night. He doesn’t even ride anymore. But sometimes I swear I hear his bike roar to life in the middle of the night.

  And that’s it.

  We’re the Seven.

  The Seven Sins motorcycle club.

  My dad bangs his mallet on the end of the table. “Let’s get this shit over with. I didn’t want to call church this late, but this Tijuana shit is coming fast and we need to be ready.”

  “What have you learned?” I tap the tip of my cigarette against the ashtray and watch as the ash falls apart into a pile of dust.

  “This is a bigger location than we realized. I thought it would have been like the others so far, just a couple small bunkers to infiltrate. It’s not. This is one of Santiago’s home bases. There’s a lot of people there. A lot of girls. They don’t know we’re coming, and we need to get in now.”

  “Sounds like it’s a bigger task than what we’ve been dealing with. Should I call in the Oregon Charter? Or Rich?” I take one last drag and stub the cigarette out in the ashtray aggressively. The tension in the room went from joking to tense. This shit with Santiago has been going on for too long. Years now. It’s time to take down this fucker once and for all.

  Rich is one of my dad’s greatest friends from Minnesota. They don’t ride bikes like us, but they have a pretty sizable group up there pushing the guns and drugs. We have their back, always, and they’ll always have ours.

  My dad shakes his head as he runs his fingers through his dark beard. He contemplates our next move, staring off while we all sit and wait for his next command. Then he blinks, turning his eyes towards me and says, “We’re not calling in anybody. They have no idea we know about this place. If we move fast, we might get in there without anyone knowing. We’ll catch them totally blind and if we’re lucky, he’ll be there, and we can take him down too.”

  I glance around the table and watch as everyone nods in agreement. It’s a solid plan, but the possibility of us being found out before we get across his gate is a serious gamble. Not one I’m sure is one we should take. Mostly given the fact he said it’s one of the main compounds. It could mean a lot of his men are there. And he doesn’t want to call anyone else in? Of course, he doesn’t, the man is a stubborn fucking mule.

  “So, let’s vote. All in favor of heading to Tijuana and taking this son of a bitch down once and for all?” Pops asks.

  “Aye.” Pascal growls.

  “Yeah.” West says.

  “Aye.” Cassius lifts his beer up in a cheers cheer.

  “Fuck yes.” Niles nods.

  Jex gives a small nod. “Aye.”

  Everyone’s eyes turn towards me.

  “Aye.” I lift my eyebrow at my dad, and a huge smile breaks out across his face.

  “Aye! There we go, boys. Let’s finally get this fucker, yeah?” He slams his mallet down on the table again, and we all stand up to go to sleep or get fucked up and then go to sleep.

  But I guess that’s it.

  I guess we’re headed to Tijuana.

  4

  Ivy

  My day starts like any other. Ms. Maria comes in and gets me ready for the day. I go and have breakfast with Santiago, but his next words make me pause.

  “There will be a party tonight. Maria will get you ready. Don’t be late, Ivy. There are important people coming tonight.”

  I nod and mumble a “Yes, sir.” I listen as he pushes his chair back and walks out of the dining room. Most likely getting ready for his big event.

  Big event.

  I know it’s code that he will either be selling off the girls that are already here or getting new ones brought in. It’s a vicious cycle. In the beginning, I used to go and visit the girls. Santiago no longer cared once he knew I wasn’t going to leave. I was no longer a potential run risk to him, so he let me roam free around La Guardia.

  But, seeing the girls emaciated and pleading for help became too much, and I stopped visiting them all together. It didn’t matter much anyway, within a month, an entire new group of girls would cycle in. The only people that I’ve grown close to here is Ms. Maria, Alexia, and Elana.

  Alexia is somewhat like me. She came here to get trafficked, but somehow ended being more useful here. She’s one of Santiago’s whores that lives on the compound. There are a handful of them, but Alexia is the only one that speaks English and has become a friend of mine. The rest of them look sideways at me, like they’re trying to figure out what’s so special about me. I wonder the same
thing. The jealous looks in some of the workers eyes, like they want to pluck me from his property and set me somewhere else in the world. I’m fine with that, I’d even go up to them on my knees and beg them to do it, if I wouldn’t be punished for it.

  Alexia isn’t like them, though. She’s special. Santiago doesn’t use her, and he never has. But if any of Santiago’s business partners come into town and stay at his place and they want a little company, it’s Alexia or another one of the girl’s job to entertain them. She’s beautiful, with chocolate brown hair that hangs down her back in a heavy sheet and green eyes. I can see why Santiago was taken with her. According to her, Santiago doesn’t touch any of the whores, including her. I’m happy about that, no one should have to deal with the wrath of Santiago. He must save all of his evil for me.

  Elana is Ms. Maria’s daughter. She’s a couple years younger than me and works as the housekeeper at the main house in between going to school. She’s one of my greatest allies here. Between her and Alexia, I think they are some of the best friends I’ve ever had. I don’t know what I’d do without them.

  Ms. Maria knocks the door open with her hip, wiping her hands off on a blue printed towel. “Have you finished, Ivy? Many things to do before the party tonight.” Her tone is tense, which is how the entire feel of the house has been this past week. It’s like everyone has been on the edge of their seat, ready to pounce at the first sign of unease. I don’t ask, because I’m not allowed. I have kept my eyes open and more aware than normal in hopes of hearing or seeing something out of the ordinary.

  No such luck.

  This brain and secrets of this house are like a safe. Locked, and closed tight. I have no hopes that I will find the combination. Everyone is trained with the quality of the secret service at the White House, and these people are smarter than they may seem.

  “Ivy? We must get moving.” Ms. Maria’s tone is tense, and I stand out of my chair with a glance at my barely touched breakfast. Ms. Maria notices it as well, but she won’t say anything. I had my allotted time to eat, and if I don’t, well, I go hungry I suppose.

  “Yes, sorry.” I stand straight as I’ve been taught.

  “Lilah will be waking soon. It would be good to spend the day with her before the party.”

  Lilah.

  My heart melts and my bones freeze. “I would like that.” I say with watery eyes.

  Ms. Maria smiles, this time a genuine one. “I’ll send her over as soon as she’s ready.”

  I give her a small nod before scampering off to my small home. I change into something more reasonable for daytime and waiting for the tiny knock on my door. Within the next thirty minutes, I hear it. The two small knocks made from tiny knuckles. I rush to the door and swing it open, falling to my knees as a small, dark haired child with my eyes stares back at me.

  “Mommy!”

  “Lilah.” I open my eyes as my daughter runs into them. I see Ms. Maria standing behind her, watching us a few moments before walking back to the house without a word.

  “Mommy, I missed you.” My three-year-old smells like clean laundry and what can only be described as my child. I burrow my nose inside of her hair and inhale deeply as tears leak from my eyes.

  “I missed you too, baby.” I lean back, holding onto her shoulders as I look at her. It feels like she grows constantly when I’m not near her. I’m worried I’ll be resented in the future for not doing more. Not being there more. But I’m doing what I can, and I hope one day she’ll see it as enough.

  I had Lilah three years ago. Being pregnant with her was the happiest and scariest time of my entire life. Her eyes might be mine, but her dark, curly hair is an exact replica of her father.

  Santiago took me as his. Mentally and physically. There was nothing left as he owned me as his. I’m glad for the time I was pregnant, because Santiago lightened up on me and I wasn’t whipped, hit, or used nearly as much.

  When I had Lilah, it was the scariest moment of my life. My water broke in the middle of the night and I had no idea what I was supposed to do. Santiago had been calling in a doctor for my checkups. I didn’t know what would happen when I gave birth or where I was going to give birth, so waking up with fluid rushing down my legs threw me into a hysteria.

  I ran in my nightgown through the night, into the main house and crying and screaming for help. Ms. Maria ran down the stairs in confusion until she saw me, and then she snapped into action. I was ushered upstairs into a room I have never been in. The next hour was a blur, house staff running in and out of the room. Santiago never came, thankfully. Just as the pain became unbearable, the doctor rushed in. I only pushed for thirty minutes, and then the tiny cry filtered through the air and I broke down in a sob. They laid her on my chest, and for that single moment I felt like my life would be okay.

  Life was somewhat normal for the next year. Lilah was brought into my room in a crib while I was breastfeeding. I didn’t need to go to meals with Santiago if I was held up with Lilah, breastfeeding, or if she was crabby.

  But once she turned one, shit went to hell again. Lilah was ushered into the main house. Santiago’s reasoning was that no way in hell his child would be staying in a hut. It doesn’t make much sense to me, since he’s a little bit cold towards her and not at all like a father should be. But he keeps her safe in that mansion, and for that I’m grateful.

  Santiago called a doctor in shortly after Lilah was moved into the main house. I was forced into a position like I was giving birth, with Santiago standing over the doctor’s shoulder. As the doctor who didn’t speak English pried my privates opened with a cold, metal instrument, I felt an achy cramp that felt strangely similar to labor pains. Once done, I cried on my back as my legs flopped down. I pushed my dress over my knees to hide myself from the monster in front of me. I had no idea what he did until he growled to me, “You have a birth control inside of you now. You will not be getting pregnant anytime soon.” And with a scowl, he turned on his heels and left the room without another word. The doctor left shortly after, leaving me to sob in the room I gave birth in until Ms. Maria came in to usher me back to my hut.

  Now I feel lost at times. I don’t get to sleep near my daughter. I miss my daughter. I long for those nights when she was an infant and I could hold her, pretending we were a long way away from her father. My fingers prickle with the need to lift her into my arms and run away with her.

  My life would end, then. And Lilah would be subject to a life with Santiago at her side, and that worries me more than anything else.

  “Mama!” Lilah pulls on my shirt, and I snap out of my daydream and gaze down at her.

  “What is it, baby?”

  She lifts a piece of paper and waves it in my face. “Look at my picture! Can we draw pictures, Mommy?” I slide it from her tiny fingers and look at the swirls and mixture of colors in a blob of abstract art.

  “Wow! This is beautiful! What is it?” I pull her inside and shut the door. I should be wanting to spend the day outside with my daughter, but the last thing I want is to have Santiago or one of his staff see us and come and bother us.

  “Mommy and Lilah at the beach!” Her sentence breaks down in a fit of giggles, and I giggle along with her. Her yellow dress is as bright as the sun, hitting her knees and swaying with Lilah’s constant movements. Her curls bounce in excitement, even as it’s tied up in a half ponytail.

  “That’s so cool!” We’ve never been to the beach, but I imagine she’s heard stories from Ms. Maria or Elena.

  “Mommy, will you draw a picture with me?” She looks up at me with her big eyes and I melt under her stare. Her little cherub cheeks are always a little rosy red, and her skin will always be a shade darker than mine. But she’s perfect in my eyes and I couldn’t imagine my life without her.

  I walk over to the small area in my bedroom that has some kid toys and pulls out the coloring supplies. We sit at the small table that Santiago had brought in here after Lilah asked her father, “Why does Mommy only have a bed in her h
ouse?” Santiago’s jaw ticked as he allowed me any sort of freedom or gift. He’s the type of person that needs to be in control at all times. Having his daughter look at him with her clear blue eyes and ask such a question that would make him look like a villain in any way had him folding for once in his life.

  We sit in the miniature chairs and draw silently. Lilah draws more swirls and squiggles and tells me about her morning. I get to spend most of my weekends with her, as Santiago often leaves for business on the weekends. On the weekdays, I am obligated to be at his beck and call that it feels like I barely get to spend time with Lilah. Being Friday, I’m heartbroken that there’s a party this evening, because it takes away my times with Lilah. Instead, I have to spend time with a monster, and that makes it ten times worse.

  I draw a picture of Lilah and I playing in the water at the ocean. I’ve never seen the ocean myself. I grew up and spent my entire life in Ohio. The first and only time I left was being kidnapped and brought down to Mexico. But I still pretend, drawing the harsh waves of the ocean licking at our ankles as we splash in the water. The sun sets over the horizon, and an almost desperate need takes over as I draw us—my daughter and I—finally being free.

  “Mommy, you crying?” Lilah hops off her seat and walks over to me, grabbing onto my legs with her tiny fingers as she crawls into my lap. Her arms hook around my neck as she brings me in for her small but strong hug.

  I smile at her as I wipe my eyes. “I’m okay. Just sad because I don’t get as much time with you today as I usually do. Should we go outside? Play hopscotch or go look in the flower garden?”

  Lilah forgets about my tears as I talk about flowers. “Flower garden! Let’s go to the flower garden!”

  Ever since Lilah could walk, she has been obsessed with flowers. The first summer when she was still wobbly on her feet, we waddled all the way over to the flower garden and fell face first into colorful petals. The gardener was pissed, but ever since then, Lilah has always wanted to see the flowers.