Dirty Salvation (Renegade Souls MC Romance Saga Book 1)

by V. Theia

  “I mean what is it with all the cum-guzzlers these days. Gimme the classic Debbie does Dallas. No fucking finesse in porn anymore.” Complained Snake, taking a swig of his booze.

  Rider barked a laugh. “You want a romance story with your fuck-fests now, Snake?”

  “Not even dwarf porn does it for me these days, fucks sake, Prez, and those little randy shitheads know how to screw. I might need to become a saint or some shit like that.”

  “Goddamn, man, you’re a weird asshat getting into all that kink.“ threw in Preacher with his own cackle.

  All three men’s boots crunched on the ground heading east towards the first gate. The snow might have melted, some bipolar as hell weather leaving behind patches of brown sludge, but Rider felt the cold seep beneath his cut straight to his bones, he should have grabbed his jacket. Him and his boys had had an easy night, making a change for once, thank god, he thought, ‘cause if any more crap came up with Grigori and the damn Russians wanting a part of Armado Springs for their businesses then Rider was gonna come out shooting and do the fucking time for it, he didn’t care, he was sick of the threats, and the attempts to bribe him. Moronic idiots didn’t know him that well yet because Rider only did what he wanted, he was never to buy, and now those Russian Bratva assholes were on his last nerve. It would be unfortunate for Grigori to be sent home in a body-bag as Rider’s response to his Pakhan Alexei.

  It didn't take long for all three of them to clock the large mound just outside the security gates and for their strides to increase "What in the hell is it?" Preacher had pulled out his gun. The compound for good reason was out in the middle of nowhere, it took a good ten minutes to ride here from the main road ... so if something was outside their gates they sure as shit were on high alert because of it.

  Rider side-eyed Preacher for a second.

  Cautious ex-sniper never left anything to chance.

  Rightly so most of the time.

  Rider felt a shiver of foreboding the closer they got across the long stretch of forecourt between clubhouse and gate.

  "Maybe someone passed out drunk. Remember that night you drank the moonshine, Preacher, and forgot where the club was, found you at Maurice’s barber shop holding onto his sidewalk sign and singing the national anthem." Offered Snake light-hearted humor. "It’s cold out tonight, could be one of those down and outs looking for some shelter, I’ll take ‘em in my Rig back into town. I saw on 60 minutes this guy who slept under a bridge for ten years and even though they tried to get him into a shelter, the fucker liked the bridge. Go figure, trolls are alive and well today."

  “That crap was lethal, never drinking that again, it drove my granddaddy insane, or story goes. It’s too big for a baby drop off, you know those groupies are crazy as fuck wanting to get one of us to put a baby in it. I'm telling you, Beyoncé ruined it for us all, now they all want a ring.” he joked, his breath fogged the air, his gaze no less focused. Rider grunted a response not really hearing his men bantering because suddenly, he had a sense of dread niggling the back of his skull.

  Through the second gate, the electronic metal whirring opened to let the men pass, the closer they got Rider’s bad feeling in the pit of his gut intensified.

  And for good reason, as it turned out.

  Two more strides they all saw it at the same time.

  For a split second, each footstep halted in surprise, paused in that very moment of time, unclear what they were looking at, wanting to deny it, to pass it off as the dark fucking around with their vision, after all, it probably was a trash bag that had set the motion sensors off, that’s what Rider wanted to tell himself. Something grabbed at his belly, a tight unbearable clutch of trepidation washing over him.

  If fucking only. He grimaced, his back teeth going tight.

  It was no down and out. Please, god, no.

  Rider’s gut lurched, his heart thumped hard and heavy.

  Comprehension weighing into the situation like a drunk driver missing the stop sign.

  "Shittin’ hell. Open this goddamn gate NOW." Clear it was not a drunk wanting to find shelter either, not according to the spill of blood continuing to ooze from a vicious head wound.

  The body was slumped in an awkward position, battered beyond repair.

  Snake radioed through to hit the twin floodlights that towered either side of the gates. The blaze of the bulbs popping on a second later only showed already what they knew.

  "Oh shit."

  "FuckFuckFuckFuck. No. Goddamn fucking hell. It’s not ..."

  Three men moved like the wind.

  Rider was the unfortunate one who reached the collapsed unmoving body first. A stab of pain hit him square in the chest. It was a massive mountain of a body they all instantly recognized and not just because he wore the same club vest. No, it was more simple than that, a blow that went deeper than he could ever think possible.

  A club brother.

  A body that could only belong to one Souls member. Rider crouched down next to his road Captain who had grabbed the two-way radio and was calling into the boys inside to wake the hell up, they had themselves a category five situation. The look of grief etched into Preacher’s face was the same Rider had on his, and Snake’s. His breath fogging the air, he used one gloved hand to turn the head around, placed at such an awkward angle his neck had obviously been broken, before or after he was littered with bullets he didn't know, he frowned, blistering the air with curses.

  Confirmation in black and white as to who it was, though they'd all known soon as they clapped eyes on him.

  "Tiny. Goddamn it. What the fuck."

  "Oh, shit, Prez. He was supposed to be visiting his Ma today, his aunt was in town, and wanted a whole family thing. You know how she gets.”

  “I know,” he answered. He did. Tiny loved his family and them him. Grim. Pain. Rider rose, all three of them towered over their fallen friend.

  From off in the distance, he heard the sound of feet pounding closer. No doubt every member that had been sleeping off a drunk inside had rolled out of bed at a dead run. Nothing could be done for Tiny now. Already it was too late. Much too late.

  Whatever had got the jump on Tiny, it had happened somewhere else, the blood still pouring out of him suggested his death came about not so long ago, the cold nightfall temperature had frosted him over, the tips of his hair dusted white.

  Tiny. Fuck.

  Known as their club gentle perverted giant, adored by women young and old, loved being in the kitchen he was one of Rider's wisest choices allowing the kid to patch in a few years back now after he'd worked his ass off to prove not only to the president he was serious about joining the ranks but to all the brothers who thought it was a joke at first this big bumbling kid had camped on the Souls doorstep for two days straight waiting to talk to Rider.

  Goddamn, not even a week later all decided to take the kid under all their wings and he'd been a part of them ever since. Rider had trusted him with critical tasks over the years and the kid had never let him down once.

  Now he was dead.

  It took four men fifteen minutes to carry the body inside, laying him in a private room. Rider stayed with him for a minute on his own, Hawk hovering in the doorway, as he knew, his best friend was on high alert now and the only place the VP would be was at Rider's side. They could only take this as a personal attack. There was no other reason for it. Tiny was killed and dumped outside as a message.

  "I'm sorry this happened to you, T. You were meant to open your own grub shop, remember you told me that's what you wanted to do one day? I wanna make bread and pie, you told me. We were gonna see about funds in the next few years, you would have done it, too." His voice cracked, laying a hand gently on Tiny's forehead, his skin discolored from the beating and effects of the cold elements. Had he fought back? had a chance to get in a few licks first? or did the rancid maggot take out his sergeant from behind like a coward? "We'll get who did this to you." Rising, he cast one last look back before he joined Hawk, cl
osing the door, his voice was like raw sandpaper, teeth grit together. "We'll get who did this to ours."

  "Take it to the bank" Agreed a snarling Hawk. His face nasty.

  Back in the main room, the noise levels were deafening. Nothing provoked his men like the senseless death of one of their own. They lusted for rivers of blood. They wanted a murder in retribution and they weren’t wrong in wanting it.

  Rider’s eyes narrowed, acutely sharp and furious, feeling the burn of this loss in his chest. His sergeant. His friend. It seemed unreal. A walking nightmare. Goddamn hell, this was a mess.

  There was only one who would send such a flagrant message to the Souls MC.

  “This had to be that shit-stain Hades.” cursed Preacher. All of them hissed agreement. Preacher's fingers coasting down his pointed beard like he was trying to yank the thing off. At his side was a silent deadly Hawk and by him was Lawless cradling a ginger mewling kitten to his chest, unquestionably his latest stray. Rider didn’t ask what the weird fascination was with cats, only they gravitated towards Lawless like he was a cracked out piped piper, if he found them injured or simply abandoned, he'd fix them up, watch over the cats like a mama bear and then rehome them in the community. Weird as hell for a killer who enjoyed his work to tend to the sick and dying animals.

  Rider switched his observant flat gaze to his men, more of them arriving after they’d been brought up to speed, all of them pissed and wanting to give payback instantly and looking to him to lead as their president.

  “He’ll die painfully for this.”

  “On our own fucking turf … the fucknut wants to die slowly, Prez.”

  “I want first take on Hades.”

  “Killing Tiny. For fuck's sake, the man didn’t ever hurt a fly. He was a big lumbering mammoth.”

  Growls. Curses. Sworn out death warrants. Rider listened to it all, his jaw all but cracking the tighter he clenched it. He needed to get in touch with Tiny --Jonah’s-- mom. Fucking hell he was not looking forward to that visit. Any family who got a call in the middle of the night from an MC expected it to be bad news and in this case, it was the worst news possible he could deliver. It was times like this holding the president's gavel really fucking sucked.

  This wasn’t the first time they’d lost a brother, but it was the first time it had come out of nowhere and to one so young. Senseless. Grinder had been on Hades’ trail for weeks now, one dead end lead after another and it had all come to nothing, the conclusion being he'd left the state, it was as if the man had poofed into thin air, with any luck they’d hoped he’d fallen into a tiger cage at the local zoo.

  Now Rider knew different.

  With irritation dogging his step, boots heavy and loud he whistled over to Pretty-boy.

  “Get to my house, sit on Zara until I can get there. Jed, you wanna call your old lady in, and make the calls we got a lockdown in effect immediately.“

  “I’m on it, son.”

  “Riding now, Prez.”

  His first thought had been Zara, home alone, probably five deep into her Disney marathon, his girl was a freak for those things, sweet as fuck, but now alone with that madman nearer than Rider or any of his men had thought. Maybe he was overthinking it, Hades never did have much smart stuff between his ears, or maybe he was grasping suddenly Hades' agenda all along if he’d been this close this entire time, watching, observing who was coming and going from the compound. He would have seen Zara at some point.

  Was she his plan or was it sticking it to Rider? either way, Hades would use Zara to get back at him. He needed eyes on his girl right now.

  More than two hours later, after an emergency meeting held behind the private doors of their church, Rider took the fateful news to Jonah’s mom, held the woman while she sobbed her heart out. She knew the life her boy had signed up for, but it didn’t make it any easier, you never think death will come to your door until it’s outside ringing the bell, and some of that anger bled out onto Rider, he took it all holding her to his chest, giving what assurance he could. It meant nothing really, her son was dead and not coming back.

  He was at his house an hour after that, almost dawn, sending Pretty-boy back to the clubhouse, Zara had run to him immediately, dressed in her simple pink pyjamas and Disney socks, her hair scraped back, sadness on her naked face, and only as she clung to him, shedding tears for a man she’d only met a short while ago did Rider feel the grief rush into his chest, filling him with anger but loss as well. He held his girl, soothed her as best he could but again he was pretty fucking useless at the right words, he pulled back, rested his forehead on hers, cupping her face so he could brush the tears away with his thumbs.

  “It was him, wasn’t it?”

  Him. No need to clarify.

  “More than likely.” He wouldn’t give the details of how Tiny was found, his girl didn’t need that in her head. It was bad enough she was shaking right back at square one of her fear. “Go get dressed, baby. We have a lockdown at the club until I can sort this out.”

  Instead of barraging him with a million questions as anyone would, god … his girl.… she kissed him softly and told him she would hurry. Rider sighed dragging a hand over his weary face, feeling defeated for the club’s loss, waiting by the door for his old lady, he had to figure a solution to this goddamn mess.

  They were on his bike ten minutes later.

  Sleep didn’t come easy that night for anyone. That old bitch death had come to his place uninvited treading her devastating muddy footprints all over and it had left aches in everyone’s breast. He finally fell into bed around nine that morning, eyes gritty, his temples pounding, the clubhouse was still, silent, doors closed, his men turning in as well, nothing much more they could do for a few hours. In that twin bed, Zara propped on her side in one of his black shirts, it pooled around her knees. He didn’t want this to set her back, to send her behind all the fucking walls and have her hiding under her rock again, not when they’d come so far.

  But she surprised the hell out of him. Facing her, he tangled a hand into her hair needing that connection to something good. She reached out and cupped his jaw, she always enjoyed his beard, her thumb moved slowly.

  “Your MC is strong, Rider, and will withstand this as I know you all can like that formidable team you all are together, as I’ve seen with my own eyes, no one is closer than you guys. It’s going to hurt like hell for a long time, no one will ever forget Tiny, but you will redress his death. For Tiny, for the boys and for you. Everyone has faith in you. I have faith in you.”

  “Shit. Zara ... baby.” How amazing was this woman?

  “You are the president of the Renegade Souls. But more than that, you are Rider fucking Marinos, no punk-bitch like Hades will do this to your club and walk away scot-free. Asshole doesn’t even know what he just did. You’ll see to it, your boys know it, we all believe in you. I believe in you so much, Rider.”

  “Baby. Come here.” she was already there, the bed was smaller than a postage stamp, still he drew her over his chest, rolled until she was fully under him and he was looking down at her. So beautiful. Incredibly giving, and she’d just shown him a full picture of her heart.

  Through all this anguish and bloodshed, he’d remember this moment right here for the gift she’d just handed to him.

  “That means a lot. So fuckin’ much.” He kissed sweetness. “I need inside you. Don’t think I got the energy to fuck you how I want, baby. But god, I swear I just need to be deep, deep in you right now.” like she understood that need he had clawing at his chest, she smiled up at him and widened her legs making room for him to drop into the cradle of her thighs, arms going around his shoulders pulling him down, she was bare beneath his shirt and he coasted his hands up her thighs, urging them open to press against the bed so she was fully exposed, lovely wet and pink, and only then did he position his cock, groaning when wetness greeted him home and he fed into that heat inch by long inch until he seated deep.

  Zara cuddled skinny arms around
him, he pushed his face into the side of her neck, leaning to the left a little so he didn’t crush her.

  And just like that, wrapped in his old lady’s comfort, his cock caressed in tight and wet, they fell into a grief ladened sleep.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  “Hot damn, does the Queen have a sister just as feisty?” – Preacher

  It was utter chaos inside the clubhouse, understandable chaos yet the deafening decibels were bouncing off every surface like a steel drum, that’s what a lockdown for less than twenty-four hours was doing to men who were highly wound over the senseless and brutal murder of one of their own.

  And about that, Zara discovered earlier while she’d inhaled her first cup of coffee of the day like a religious experience curled around the white porcelain cup, that Rider, nor Tiny’s family, would be involving the law in his murder, there would be no investigation or sentence handed down by a judge in power, not any legal sentence anyhow, the MC had connections everywhere, one such connection being a funeral home that even now were taking care of Tiny in the best possible way. No one would ever know Tiny died in suspicious circumstances. No cops meant it was Rider and his brothers in arms who would dole out the punishment for this, the Renegade Soul boys were judge jury and the devil himself.

  No bad deed goes unpunished, especially against one of Rider’s men.

  Confused, she’d questioned him at first about it, it was murder, justice for Tiny. Maybe she hadn’t been with the MC for long, she couldn’t grasp their laws and ways, she didn’t want Rider getting hurt or worse, she’d happily pass this along to the police, let them deal with Hades, she’d divulge her shame and torture if it meant Rider was safe. In his frame of mind right now he was dangerous, reckless.