Fender: Soulless Kings MC

by Andi Rhodes

  “Change of subject?” I ask when it’s clear we aren’t going to agree.

  Fender lets his hand fall to the bed and forces a smile that comes off a little too sad.

  “Change of subject.”

  Chapter Twenty

  This isn’t what I want. It’s just what is.

  Fender

  Bam… bam… bam.

  I flinch each time the gavel connects with the wooden surface. My reaction is weak, but I can’t help it. I just pray that none of the others saw. If they knew that the war in my head matched the war between us and the Black Savages, they’d send me off to the fucking looney bin. I’ve always been decisive, calculated, in control. Now, I’m a goddamn mess and all because of a woman I should keep my distance from.

  “Settle the fuck down,” Piston shouts when the gavel doesn’t do it’s job.

  Voices hush at the demand, and I glance around the table at my brothers. Piston’s scowling, no doubt frustrated with the lack of order this morning. Joker’s got a lazy smile tugging at his lips, and I can’t help but think a Bangin’ Betty is responsible for it. Asshole sent out a mass text of a picture of a pair of tits in the middle of the night. After Charlie lectured me about how women should be treated, we got a good laugh. Greaser’s leaning on his elbows, a mug of coffee, likely laced with Kahlua, in his meaty hands. Riker’s head is tipped back, his eyes closed. I know he’s not sleeping, his shoulders are too tense for that to be the case. Flash is staring at the screen of the laptop sitting in front of him, his lips moving as he silently reads whatever words are there. Curly and Burly are at the other end of the table, solemn expressions on their faces.

  “Listen up,” I begin. “We’re all aware of the threat that Leal made against the Soulless Kings. He gave us forty-eight hours to return Charlie, and we’ve been lucky up until now that he hasn’t followed through.”

  “Luck’s got nothing to do with it.” Riker lets out a huff of laughter. “They’re all a bunch of pussies. They ain’t comin’ for us.”

  “That’s the kind of thinking that’ll end up with a body count… on our side,” Piston snarls. “Have you all forgotten the attack four years ago? Because I haven’t. And I know your prez hasn’t.”

  Piston’s gaze travels to mine, and I give an almost imperceptible nod. He may not always agree with what I do, or more precisely, what my heart wants to do, but he’s got my back, no ifs, ands or buts about it.

  “We can handle whatever they bring our way,” Joker inserts. The lazy smile is gone and in its place is a steely look of determination. “We just have to be prepared.”

  “And you think we’re fucking prepared?” I argue. When they all look at me like that’s the dumbest question in the world, I continue. “Because I’ve got two dead parents that would say otherwise.”

  “They’ll only attack as long as we have their princess.” Burly’s voice is deep, gravelly from years of smoking, both cigarettes and joints. “I think letting her go needs to be voted on. As much trouble as she’s caused and as much as she needs to pay, maybe we can stop things before they even start.”

  “Agreed,” Greaser says. “Don’t get me wrong, I get why we took her and I’m all about this war between the two clubs, but Burly’s right. Even if an ambush can’t be stopped, letting her go will at least buy us some time.”

  Conversation among the members heats up, but the underlying tone is agreement about doing what needs done to either stop or slow what we all know will inevitably come, no matter what we say here. This might be what one would call a pivotal moment. My club, my family, is coming to the decision on their own to let Charlie go. It should make me happy. Hatred and revenge are no longer the driving force when it comes to her. Why, then, do I only feel a sense of dread? Why is anger searing me from the inside out, and why do I have the sudden urge to run from this place and take Charlie with me?

  “Goddamnit!” Piston’s fists slam on the table as he surges to his feet. Everyone shuts up and stares at him. “We’re getting off topic. I agree, we need to vote on letting our prisoner go.”

  Joker snorts at the word ‘prisoner’ and honestly, I get the sentiment. Charlie is no longer a prisoner of the Soulless Kings. I was prepared to let her go last night, vote be damned. She chose to stay. She’s here of her own free will, whether they know it or not.

  “The Black Savages will come for us. I know that, Fender knows that. Shit, you all know that. This isn’t going to just go away, whether we have their princess or not.”

  “We don’t know that,” Burly argues.

  “Jesus,” Piston mumbles. “You’ve been a Soulless King for how long, Burly? Twenty years, thirty? When have the Black Savages ever backed down from a fight? When have they ever not followed through on a threat?”

  “There’s a first—”

  “Stop,” I demand and my voice is so loud it seems to echo off the walls. “Don’t you get it? They’re winning this war right now. Every second we waste arguing about shit is another second they’re getting exactly what they want.” I scan the room, letting my stare connect with each man at the table. “Every single one of you has a point, but points only count in darts. Points don’t mean shit in war. And make no mistake, we’re at war. Now what are we gonna do about it?”

  “I vote to let Charlie go,” Joker says as he stands. “But not just for the reasons everyone thinks.”

  “Why then?” Curly asks, the hand holding a pen hovering just over his notebook like he doesn’t want to get anything wrong in his notes.

  “Look, I don’t know why the ambush four years ago happened. I don’t know if there were forces against us that we don’t know about. Hell, I’m still not one hundred percent sure that Charlie had nothing to do with it.” Joker holds his hand up when a growl escapes me. “What I do know is that she’s not so bad. And our president seems to have a hard-on for her and believe in her innocence. That’s enough for me, and it should be enough for all of you.”

  I’m floored by Joker’s little speech, although I shouldn’t be. Joker’s not a bad guy. Sure, he’s unpredictable and a little crazy at times, but he’s also loyal as fuck.

  “I vote to let Charlie return to the Black Savages.” Joker pauses, taking a deep breath and blowing it out through his nose. “And when she’s gone, we prepare for the biggest fucking war of our lives because letting her go isn’t going to stop a damn thing.”

  Everyone glances at each other before thumping twice against the table.

  “I’d like to take it one step further,” Piston says once the voting is over. He looks at me, and his stare holds a hint of apology. “Charlie has to go. We’ve voted to release her, but I think we should also vote to ban her. Temporarily,” he rushes to add when I stand up. “Just until we can be sure that the Black Savages aren’t going to keep threatening us if she’s here.”

  “We’re not voting on that,” I say and shocked expressions turn my way. “I’ll agree to it. Fuck, I’ll even be the one to ride her ass out of here. What I won’t do is ban her because that means, based on the Soulless Kings bylaws, that any means necessary can be used against her if she ever steps foot on our property again. I won’t bring her back too early, but I won’t sign her execution papers either.”

  Each man at the table thumps their fist twice on the surface. No vote had been pending. No question posed. As president, I was making a call and there was no room for argument. It feels damn good to know they all have my back anyway.

  “Moving on to other matters,” I say, needing to talk about something else, anything else. “How are things going with Trainwreck and the other prospects?”

  “As good as can be expected,” Piston responds. “Trainwreck is tagging along on a run tomorrow. Fucker’s a little wild, but I think that’ll settle in time.”

  “Let’s hope not,” Joker laughs. “Crazy will keep him alive.”

  “What about Jake, Greg and Scott?”

  “Let’s just say they’re adjusting to their road names,” Piston chuckles.<
br />
  “Damn, man, Jake about died when someone called him Royal. He’s a rich motherfucker and likes to flaunt it, but we’re bringin’ him down a notch or two.” Flash is trying to hold in his laughter as he recounts how each prospect got their road names. “And Greg? Dude’s huge so we call him Tiny. Really screws with his head too cause Squirrel told him it was because he was so big his dick probably looks tiny between his tree trunk thighs.”

  Now we’re all laughing, and damn it feels good. We haven’t had prospects in a year or two, and there’s something about the normalcy of it that calms me.

  “I don’t know if I should even ask, but what about Scott?”

  “That one’s fuckin’ weird, that’s for sure. Haven’t quite figured out if it’s good weird or bad weird.” Greaser’s laughter dies down and he looks serious. “He keeps going on and on about how he was an Eagle Scout and how that prepared him for MC life. He’s now Eagle but I gotta say, not sure he’s gonna make it.”

  “And I thought Trainwreck was bad.” I shake my head at the thought of the two prospects that could probably get us all killed if we gave them too much leeway. “Okay, moving on. Anything else we need to discuss today?”

  No one stands up, so Piston adjourns church. There are other matters that need discussed—our drug supply, financials from each business—but those can wait. Right now we all need to focus on the Black Savages’ threat.

  Everyone other than Piston and I file out of the room. When he makes no move to start a conversation, I head toward the door and grab my weapon out of the box. Just as I’m about to walk through the doorway, he calls out to me.

  “Hey, Chris.”

  I freeze at the use of my given name. He hasn’t called me that since we buried my parents, and the fact that he’s using it now tells me that he’s talking to me as my best friend and not my VP.

  “I can take Charlie home if you’d rather not. I know how you feel about her, and if I can make this a little easier on you…”

  I glance over my shoulder at him. How the hell does he know how I feel when I haven’t even admitted it to myself, much less out loud?

  “Thanks, Sam.” Saying his name feels just as foreign as hearing my own. “I gotta do this, though.” He gives a tight nod, and I take a deep breath before turning away from him. Before walking through the doorway, I glance back. “If you really want to help, I’ve got something you can do.”

  “Anything.”

  “Where are we going?”

  Charlie’s green eyes lit up when I told her we were going for a ride, but her excitement was quickly replaced with unease when I grabbed her shopping bags from the day we took her from the mall. She’s looking at me with questions dancing in those emerald depths, and the room threatens to swallow me up.

  “I’m taking you home,” I say past the lump in my throat.

  “But… I don’t understand.”

  “What don’t you understand?” I snap, forcing steel into my tone when all I want to do is drop to my knees and beg for her forgiveness. “You were kidnapped, we got what we wanted, we don’t need you anymore, end of story.”

  Her eyes grow round and her fists clench at her sides. She’s gearing up for a hell of a fight, and I don’t blame her. It must seem like I’ve done a complete one-eighty. Just last night I told her I was hers and now I’m kicking her out.

  “This is a joke, right?” Her foot starts to tap on the cabin floor, and she props a fist on her hip. “You’re fucking with me.”

  “Do I look like I’m joking?” I stalk toward her, wrap my fingers around her bicep and thrust her toward the door. “Let’s go.”

  Charlie plants her feet and yanks out of my hold. Her face is red and her body is rigid. I hate what I’m doing to her, but it has to be this way. If I don’t stand my ground, I’ll let her talk me into keeping her here and then what? Another ambush? More carnage? At least this way everyone will be safe… or as safe as members of an MC can be.

  “You’ve got five seconds to get your ass out to my bike,” I growl.

  “Or what?”

  Or nothing.

  “Four seconds.”

  She doesn’t move.

  “Three… two…”

  I reach her in two long strides and lift her up to throw her over my shoulder. Her ass sticks up in the air, and she pummels my back with her fists.

  “Put me down!”

  “Not happening, princess.”

  I walk outside and ignore her assault. She’s stronger than she looks and her strikes hurt, but I deserve every single one. By the time I reach my bike, my anger at her is no longer all an act. She’s pissing me off and maybe that’s a good thing. It certainly makes this easier.

  “I’m gonna put you down and you’re going to stand still. Got it?”

  She huffs but says nothing. I lower her to her feet but don’t let her out of my sight. I don’t trust her not to try and run. I could easily catch her, but I’m not in the mood to chase her through the woods surrounding my place.

  “I’m not getting on your damn bike.” Charlie crosses her arms over her chest, and I have to avert my gaze because the action causes her tits to pop up in a sinfully sexy display of cleavage. “If you want me to leave, fine, but I’ll drive myself outta this hell-hole.”

  On the inside, I wince at her words, but on the outside, I maintain my resolve. If she’s mad now, she’s going to be fucking pissed when I tell her why she can’t ride her own bike.

  “Not possible,” I mumble as I stuff her purchases in my saddlebags.

  “What do you mean ‘not possible’?”

  I square my shoulders and look her in the eye. “Your bike’s not here. I had Piston take it back to your place.”

  “What the fuck, Fender? You know you can’t give him permission to ride someone else’s—”

  “I did what I had to,” I shout, cutting off her censure. She’s not wrong. A bike is sacred and no one rides it without the owner's permission. Maybe I crossed a line, but I had my reasons.

  “No, you did what suited your purposes.”

  Charlie’s body seems to deflate and her arms drop to her sides. Her face remains red so I know she’s still angry, but she’s outta gas. We can fight all fucking day and it won’t change anything. I don’t want her to go, she doesn’t want to go, but she has to go.

  “Just get on the damn bike.”

  She steps around me and straddles the bike, scooting as far back as the seat will allow. I stare at her a moment before mounting up in front of her and revving the engine. I glance over my shoulder at her and raise a brow. She huffs out a breath and rests her hands at my waist. Not exactly the clinging I was hoping for, but it’s better than nothing.

  I steer the bike off Soulless Kings’ property, and her nails dig into my sides when I pick up speed as we head south on the Coastal Highway. Any other time and I’d pull off to the side of the road and we’d enjoy the views, make out a little, maybe fuck on the back of my bike depending on the time of day. This time, though, the views might as well not exist and there’s no sexual tension that’s begging to be released.

  When I reach Black Savages’ property, I slow the bike to a crawl and park in front of their iron gates. Charlie’s bike is there, right where I instructed Piston to leave it. I drop the kickstand, and the bike leans to the side a bit. Neither of us make a move to get off of it.

  “Is this really what you want?” Charlie whispers. There are tears in her voice, and I die a bit knowing I put them there.

  “Does it matter?”

  “Yeah, Chris, it matters.”

  I should tell her ‘yes’, that this is what I want. I should say whatever I have to in order to make this easier, to make her hate me so she can walk away and never look back. And even though I know what I should do, I can’t quite bring myself to tell her the lie.

  I swing my leg over the seat and watch as she gets off on the other side. We stand there, staring at each other. Her with tears streaming down her cheeks but not reaching
her chin before the wind dries them. Me with a knot in my stomach and my heart shattering into a million pieces.

  I take a deep breath and say the only thing I can.

  “Charlie, I’m yours. I will always be yours.” Her lips tip into a wobbly smile, and it makes my next words that much harder. “But I’m a Soulless King and you belong to the enemy. I love you so fucking much, but this isn’t about me. Fuck, it’s not even about you. It’s about honor and loyalty and family. So, no,” I take a deep breath and exhale it slowly. “This isn’t what I want. It’s just what is.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Love can conquer many things, but it doesn’t stand a chance among our rivals.

  Charlie

  I watch the bike disappear in the distance and then wait for what feels like an eternity before taking my eyes off the road. Tears threaten to spill over, but my jaw is in a hard line.

  I hear my father’s voice in my head, telling me not to cry, and I listen to it. Last night I cried for all the things I didn’t know I could have. Now, I refuse to cry for all the things I can’t.

  This isn’t what I want. It’s just what is.

  You’re right, Fender, I wish I would’ve said. Instead, I’d just stared at him, my eyes watering even as my teeth ground together and fists clenched. He drove off without either of us saying another word.

  I turn toward the iron gate and stare down the long driveway that leads to what I used to think of as home. The houses are so far back, I can’t see them from where I’m standing.

  Leaving my bike and clothes behind, I climb over the wrought iron gate instead of buzzing for someone to open it because I’m not sure I can speak past the lump in my throat right now. I could use the walk anyway, anything to prolong the inevitable.