JUSTICE (YOUNG OUTLAWS MC Book 2)

by T L Wainwright

  I’m about to hit back at Mammoth with a sarcastic comment when the door swings open and there he is.

  The President of the Young Outlaws, with a flush on his pockmarked skin, his nose redder than usual from his constant overindulgence of fine liquor. The zipper of his pants is only partially closed, leaving me with little doubt as to what and who has held him up this time. He’s been getting his dick sucked by Poison.

  As soon as Pres takes his seat, he starts the proceedings in his usual manner as if it’s any old meeting. I don’t know if he’s just fucking with us or if he’s trying to lull us into a false sense of security.

  A quick rundown on the club’s financial status, debts, expected cash contributions and any outstanding points from the previous meeting are done. Nothing that wouldn’t usually be taken care of at the weekly meetings. But this little get together is not on the club calendar, so we wait with bated breath for our Pres to get to the point and the true reason why he called Church out of the blue.

  The silent tension around the room is thick, almost choking me and it lingers like the smell of a late-night deviant sex orgy. When at last he opens his mouth, my fears crash headlong into the words that come rushing out.

  “The El Perros have been in touch and want to make a deal with us.”

  “Pres,” I say coolly, despite my rising anxiety at the mention of the Mexican gang that has been discussed many times before, in this very room.

  “Let me speak,” he snaps, Spit flies from his mouth and hits the table in front of him. Even a speck or two coats the club emblem that has been meticulously carved into the solid oak top by the original founder of the group, John James Young. “They are looking to move four to five containers a month, that’s all. Double manned vehicles, no stops, just twenty-four-seven road haul from Port of Columbia, Alabama and over the border to a small town called Los Gonzalez.”

  “We’ve discussed this before,” I eventually interrupt. “The type of business that these low life’s deal with, we do not want to get involved in. The risks are too high.”

  “But the money is fucking good. I’ve negotiated top dollar and all that we will be doing is running a semi or two each week. They’ll provide the route to take, where to cross the border without coming up against any shit, and then all we need to do is drop the container and they’ll take care of the rest from there. It’s fucking easy money for the club.”

  “It’s fucking trafficking and I’m not talking guns and drugs. These parasites are dealing with people and once you get sucked into that shit, you’re in a deep, dark hole that you ain’t going to ever get out of.”

  “That’s bullshit,” Bullet barks back.

  “Is it?” I slap the palm of my hand onto the top of the table, thankful that the spittle has dried. “El Perros are heavily tied in with the Dom Garcia Cartel. Don’t you think for a minute that what they want from us now won’t change to something even more depraved. Once those motherfuckers have us in their pocket, they ain’t gonna let us out alive. I’ll fucking bet my cock and ball sack on it.” Which as my club name suggests, I do indeed have a huge dick with nuts to match, so it isn’t a wager that I make lightly.

  “Our deal will be with El Perros, not the Cartel,” Bullet replies dismissively.

  “Are you pissing me?” I scoff. “El Perros do not have the brains to pull off this heavy shit. They are only the puppet; the cartel are the puppet masters and the ones who are behind the deal. You’re out of your mind if you seriously think this is a good venture. You might as well get into a pit with a fuckton of adders, because one bite from them and you’ll end up dead.”

  “Don’t you speak to me like that you little shit. Might I remind you Cannon, I am the president of this club,” Bullet sneers back at me. “You are just the VP and you don’t get to make the decisions.”

  “No, I don’t, but this concerns every one of us in this room and could be the killing of this club.” I take a deep breath to try and moderate my temper, before I take a huge risk and suggest, “let’s put it to the vote.” I can only hope to God that this course of action doesn’t fuck me right up the ass with a baseball bat studded with six-inch nails.

  “You want a vote?” Pres crashes his fist to the table; the gavel jumps with the force. He might be stacking up the years and far from the fitness he held in his younger years, but his stubbornness is still strong and seems to only fuel his strength “We’ll have a fucking vote, but we vote now.”

  “That’s bullshit,” I holler. Mammoth throws me a look that tells me that I should calm down but I’m seething. “You can’t expect any of us to make a decision without discussing this further.”

  “You have all you need to know. The risks are low, the money good and as the president of this club, I say it’s a good deal. No need to deliberate any further. Now Prospectors, out. You don’t need to be here. Go fucking do whatever you reprobates should be doing.” Each one of them filters out of the room and as I glance at the remaining members sat at the table, I notice three of them haven’t got a ‘What the fuck just happened’ expression on their face. Which makes me think that Condo, Creeper and Tag-it were well aware of what todays proceedings would bring.

  “Let’s vote.”

  My asshole twitches as I try and run the numbers and possibilities in my head.

  I’m confident that Mammoth, Gearhead and Mac will side with me. It’s obvious that the Pres has already sweet-talked Condo, Creeper and Tag-it which with Bullets obvious vote for, brings it out evens. So, it all depends on Masher, Buzz and Johny B but I have no idea to which side they will cast their votes.

  “Who’s for the El Perros deal?”

  Bullet points a fat finger at Gearhead, to which I can’t help but grin at when he gives the response I was expecting.

  “Ney,” Mammoth rattles out with determination before giving Bullet the chance to prompt him.

  Next up is Creeper, then Tag-it, both mouth a resounding ‘Ey’.

  Now comes the tricky part as Bullets finger moves around the table towards, Masher, Buzz and Johny B.

  My feeling of elation with Masher’s opposing vote is quickly dispelled when Buzz votes all for it. With Conda a certain for, it all depends on Johny B and to be honest, being one of the youngest members of the group, a lover of the ladies and highly respectful of the Pres, a sickening feeling in my gut threatens to escalate into a table covered in vomit.

  “JB,” my father smirks as he points to the last questionable vote, the glory of the win already showing on his face.

  Silence hits the room and it’s taking everything I have not to grab JB by the throat and trade him my precious bike for a negative vote.

  “Ney,” he says clear and precise, his back ramrod straight.

  The look on Bullets face, when it finally sinks into his pigheaded brain, is priceless.

  “But… but…” he stutters, his face becomes predominantly redder, his fists gripping the arms of his makeshift throne.

  “Call it, Pres.” I try and keep my voice calm and level but inside I want to whoop around the room doing backflips like a freshman cheerleader on smack.

  With a splutter and a murmured curse, the President of the Young Outlaws Motorcycle club, picks up the gavel and crashes it to the tabletop. Not a word passes his lips as he pushes up and out of his seat and stomps out of the room, flinging the door so hard that it buckles at the hinges.

  The ‘Fors’ quickly filter out of the room, leaving the ‘Against’ still sat at the table feeling a sick sense of elation at dodging a very explosive situation.

  “Come on,” I say eventually as I get up out of my seat. “I think after that, we could all do with a drink.”

  As we go to leave, I put my hand on JB’s shoulder, holding him back from the rest of the guys, while Mammoth and Gearhead try and fix the door by using brute force.

  “I don’t mind admitting that you surprised me back there,” I say pointedly at him. “I was convinced that your vote would go with the Pres.”


  Instead of answering me straight away, he waits until Mammoth and Gearhead have moved away and are halfway back down the hallway.

  “I hope this doesn’t get me in the shit, him being your father and all,” he shifts nervously from one foot to another, his gaze falling to the floor. “Fuck it, if it does.” His eyes snap up to mine and he lets out a deep sigh. “I care about this club and my brothers, even Tag-it, the dirty bastard, and in my book, there is only one person that deserves to be the President of the Young Outlaws, and it ain’t Bullet.”

  I give him a curt nod and a firm slap on the back, I know exactly what he’s insinuating.

  “Thank you. Now, let’s go get shit faced.”

  When I get to the bar, there’s no sign of my father, or my brother. I throw back the Jameson’s that had been waiting for me, before finding Gearhead sat on one of the couches with Ratchet.

  “Where’s Mammoth?” I ask him.

  “He was here a minute ago. I saw him take a call then he was heading out the door like his ass was on fire. Didn’t get chance to ask where he was going. I haven’t heard his bike start up, so if you hurry you might catch him before he takes off.”

  I swiftly move towards the door and step outside. The hot sun, now a vibrant orange, hangs low on the horizon, only visible between the breaks within the surrounding trees. The air is still warm and sticky, no breeze to be had to brush a soothing coolness across my skin. I see Mammoth astride his bike, about to pull his helmet onto his head.

  “Mammoth, hold up.” I half jog over to where he is and stop by his side. “Where you going?” Instantly his head snaps around so we’re facing each other. I’m kind of grateful that he’s sitting down because the look on his face is threating enough, without his height adding to it.

  “What’s with all the fucking questions, Cannon? Do I have to report to you on everything I do?”

  “Hey!” I hold up my hands and take a step back away from him. “It’s just I’ve not seen much of you, and I was looking to catch up, that’s all.”

  “Fuck off,” he spits back. “You’re the one who’s been spending most of his time stalking Leah fucking Sparks.”

  “Woah, man. Calm the shit down. If you’ve got a problem with that then tell me, but this,” I gesture to his uncharacteristic behavior towards me, “is out of order. What’s got you all hulked up and ready to rip your shirt off? Has something happened? Talk to me.”

  “No, nothing,” he lets out a big sigh. “I need a bit of space from this place, the guys always talking shit. Pops.”

  “Hey, if that’s all that it is, then go for it, but remember, I’m here for you brother, always. Now go get your ass out of here and do whatever you need to do to let off some steam.”

  “Thanks Cannon.” Mammoth pulls on his helmet and kicks off the stand. “Love you, man,” he adds, before he hits the button and starts up the engine.

  “Love you too, Wes,” I reply with a slap to his back before he rides off into the sunset.

  Chapter 11

  Mammoth

  Pulling back hard on the throttle my Harley reacts instantly, taking me down the dirt track away from the club house and back onto the road.

  Guilt rushes through me like a thick poison at how easy the lies had fallen from my mouth. Hitting back with the Leah thing was way below the belt, but a quick way to deflect what would have undoubtably been an awkward conversation.

  Coming clean isn’t an option. Not yet anyway.

  I also needed to get out of there quickly.

  As soon as I’d taken the call, hearing Dana’s terrified voice on the other end of the phone, I knew I should never have left her in the cabin on her own. Too much had happened in the last twelve or so hours. It was clear to me from her recent tearful breakdowns, that despite her appearance of being a strong, capable woman, she also had a vulnerable side to her that her parents, more so her father, was to blame for.

  If I thought it would ease her pain, take away her fears, I would take the fucker and make him regret every time he’d lifted a hand to her. Every restriction, every restraint that kept her from enjoy her young life. I’d be happy to kill the bastard if it set her free.

  In my heart, I know that’s the last thing that she’d want, because despite her parents old and barbaric treatment, they are still her mum and dad.

  It’s true. You can hate someone deeply but still have a part of you that loves them too.

  It seems like it takes forever before I’m pulling up in front of the cabin. A shadowy outline stands at the window that could only be Dana, she’s backlit by the subtle lighting in the room. Before I’ve even removed my lid and cut the engine, the front door flies open and Dana comes charging towards me. Kicking out the side stand, I dig my heels into the dirt, preempting the possibility that the impact could very well knock both of us and my motorcycle to the ground.

  Instinctively, I open my arms for her, and she rushes into them, her hands instantly clinging to the edges of my cut.

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” she blubbers as she buries her face into my chest. She’s trembling, so I tighten my hold on her, relishing the sensation that having her against me ignites. This is crazy. Stupidly crazy, but for the first time I feel like I have found that something special that has been missing in my life. Dana is that something special. But wanting her, having her, is all kinds of wrong. Keeping her would do nothing more than kick up one hell of a shit storm.

  Even though, I’m damn sure, that she’d be worth every bit of it.

  While still holding on to her, I slide off the seat of my bike. Hooking one of my arms under her knees, I lift her fully into my arms and head inside the cabin.

  Pushing the door shut behind us with my heavy boot, I walk us both over to the couch and with her still in my arms, I sit.

  I wait until the trembling in her body subsides and her sobs have all but disappeared before I release her from my hold.

  “What happened?” I ask as I lift her chin with the tip of my finger until her tear stained face is visible to me.

  “I heard noises outside, rustling, then screaming and I…” her hands fly back around my neck and she clings to me like a baby monkey.

  “Hey, baby,” I coo, “we’re in the middle of a wooded area, there’s bound to be noises. Even if there was a big bad grizzly out there,” she tightens her grip even further, “trust me, there’s no way that they’d be getting in here.” Covering her hands with mine, I take each one and gently bring them back down to my chest. Slowly she inches away from me.

  “I freaked.” Her big green, teary eyes look up at me. “I thought they’d found me and were here to force me to go back.” She begins to tremble once more, and I can see the fear in her eyes.

  “No one will find you here. Even the club doesn’t know about this place. You’re safe here.”

  “But the noises. It’s so damn quiet inside that you hear every little noise outside. I’m scared being here on my own. Please don’t leave me here alone.”

  “Dana, I can’t stay here.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because my VP will start asking questions if I’m not around. I have club business to deal with and…”

  “But they won’t need you all the time, will they? Can you at least stay here at night?”

  “I don’t think…”

  “Please, I promise I will get my shit together during the day. At least when it’s daylight you can see what’s out there, but at night it feels so oppressive, like the darkness is going to suck me up and suffocate me.”

  I feel like I’m between a rock and a hard place.

  How can I say no to her when she’s unquestionably scared and that’s killing me? But being under the same roof as her, in such close proximity is just as torturous.

  “Please, Mammoth don’t leave me here alone tonight.”

  I should be reassuring her that any chance of her being found here, is low to zero and that the only scary thing outside these four walls that might give her a
nasty bite are the mosquitos. Yet, I find myself bumbling out the words. “Okay.” But I add with conviction, “For tonight anyway.”

  “Thank you, thank you,” she squeals, launching herself against me again. I quickly move away, because the only way I’m going to make it through tonight is not to get too close. Touching is completely out of the question.

  “I need to take a piss and grab a drink.” Making my way to the bathroom, I step inside, closing the door behind me.

  “What the fuck are you doing, asshole?” I mutter to myself in the mirror above the vanity. I think about it while I take a piss, but I still haven’t come up with a reasonable answer when I’ve finished washing and drying my hands.

  Opening the door, I make a beeline for the kitchen and the refrigerator. I grab a beer for myself and pop the top.

  “Do you want a beer?” I ask while I take stock of what supplies I have in there. If she’s going to be staying here, I need to grab groceries. “Dana?”

  When I still don’t get an answer I glance over, only to find her curled up on the seat of the couch, her eyes closed, lips slightly parted and a subtle sound of her breathing.

  Taking a long gulp of the chilled beer before walking over towards her, I stand watching her sleeping until the bottle is empty then discard it on the tabletop.

  While trying not to disturb her too much, I lift her from the couch, lay her over my shoulder and take her into the bedroom. Pulling back the covers, I lay her down in the center of the mattress, bringing the crisp white sheets back up and over her.

  Sitting precariously on the edge of the bed, I lean over and with the tips of my fingers, I sweep back the hair that has fallen across her forehead. Letting them linger against her skin as I take in the serene look on her sweet face. It snatches my breath away.

  She’s beautiful in an unconventional way. Green hair, high cheek bones and slight turn down at the tip of her nose. Her makeup free face glows and her lips have a red, swollen appearance even in their natural state.