by Deja Voss
Revenge is a pillar of the Mountain Misfits MC way. Not only does it help keep other clubs in check and assert our position as those crazy fuckers up on the hill, but it satisfies one of the most basic urges of my brothers and I. Fucking and fighting will only get you so far. Every once in a while, a good old-fashioned killing spree is somewhat of a necessary evil. Keeps us from killing each other at the very least.
The five surviving Sabers are lined up before us, backs up against the side of the delivery truck, hands and feet bound, duct tape on their mouths, sheer terror in their eyes.
“What’s wrong, guys?” my father taunts. “Bumpy ride?”
Brooks begins pulling the duct tape from their mouths as they gasp for lungfuls of air.
“Which one of you fucks shot up my bar?” I ask. “And don’t say Jimmy.” I nudge the dead body on the ground with my boot. “Jimmy can’t speak for himself right now.”
My gang closes in around them, a tight circle, clenching their weapons of choice, staring them down as the Sabers plead for their lives.
“You’re a bunch of sickos,” one cries out. “Sick fucking weirdos.”
“And?” my father laughs. He pulls out his cellphone and snaps a picture of them. “I want to make sure your president sees how much fun you’re having on your hunting trip!”
“It was me,” the youngest of the lot pleads. “I did it. Jaso told me to. Please, just let these guys go and I’ll take you right to him. We’ll get it straightened out.”
“Well, he made a huge mistake, because you can’t shoot for shit,” Austin says. “Neither can I though; that’s why I don’t use a gun.” He’s holding a lead pipe in his hand and he cracks it off the guy’s knee. He screams in agony.
“Take it easy,” I say to Austin. “I’m in the mood for a challenge today. It’s not as much fun when they’re already injured.”
“You’re right, boss.”
“He’s just getting him warmed up for me,” Heat laughs, flicking his switchblade in the kid’s face. “My old body can’t run like it used to, but damn, my knife skills get better and better every year.”
“I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors about how this works, men,” my father addresses them. “The rules are actually very fair and clear, no surprises like your little stunt earlier today. Once we cut you loose, you’re free to go. You get a fifteen-minute head start, and after that, we will track you down and find you, even if it takes all night. Good luck to you, boys. Make that president of yours proud.”
We grew up in these woods. We know these trails up and down and in and out. We definitely have a clear advantage. Still, it’s fun to watch ’em run like they have any fucking chance.
I cut their arm bindings and Brooks follows behind, cutting the bindings on their feet.
“If you see the two of us coming at you, you’re in a for a real bad day, guys,” he laughs.
As they take off into the woods, Brooks just shakes his head.
“Why do they always run up?” he laughs. “Dumbasses.”
A gunshot rings through the air, my father clutching his smoking revolver with that evil grin on his face. The young man with the broken knee hits the ground, blood leaking from the back of his head.
“Mercy killing.” My father shrugs. “Look how fast the rest of ’em are running now, though.”
It’s true, sheer terror drives these bikers through the woods, and the cracking of branches and crunching of leaves on the ground begins to fade out.
“Want me to drag him to the shed?” Red asks.
My dad shoots him a thumbs-up. Red grabs the lifeless body and throws it over his shoulder, while Tank grabs the other one by the ankle, pulling him across the lawn and to the shack.
“You and me?” Brooks asks. “Like the good old days?” He wraps his bandana around his head.
My heart is pounding through my chest. There’s not much more thrilling than an afternoon of hunting. Except maybe the lady I hope to find waiting for me when I get back. Maybe. That’ll be determined later.
Right now, I only have one thing on my mind.
“You and me,” I say to Brooks. And a group of bloodthirsty Misfits gathered in row, like it’s the starting line of a marathon or something. We’re waiting for the gun to go off.
“Has it been fifteen minutes yet?” Austin whines.
We could give them the rest of the day and it wouldn’t matter. We definitely have the upper hand here.
“Sure,” my dad says, shrugging. He fires a shot into the air and we all take off into the woods, ready to track down our prey and give them exactly what they have coming.
One thing is for certain—the coyotes and bears are going to eat good tonight.
CHAPTER 17
Sloan:
I don’t even need to look up to know he’s back. I can feel his presence fill the room. It’s sexy, it’s musky, and it’s wild. His hands and face are smeared with blood and his eyes are crazy. Ravenous. My heart stops beating for a moment as my panties spontaneously combust. I’m fully aware that whatever he was out doing wasn’t a simple walk in the woods with the boys, but his dark and dangerous swagger is turning me on.
“You,” he says, making a beeline towards me without even addressing anyone else in the room. “Come on.”
I’m covered in Clutch’s blood, my hair full of gravel and dust, still wearing my clothes from the night before. Apparently, we both have a thing for each other dirty.
He picks me up effortlessly and tosses me over his shoulder before I can even realize what’s happening.
“Gavin!” Morgan calls out, popping out her hip seductively, “How’d it go?”
He doesn’t even stop to respond.
Too little too late, bitch, I think.
The man is on a mission, and I’m not about to complain. Down into the basement we go, his leather boots echoing through the long corridor, my heart beating faster with every step.
Wordlessly he puts the key in the lock and turns the doorknob.
He tosses me on the bed like a rag doll, pulling my jeans down and sliding my panties to the side. I’m soaked to the core and he slides a finger in me, pressing hard on my G-spot as he twists it around.
“Oh,” is all I can come up with.
He’s unzipping his pants, pulling them down to his ankles, his rock-hard cock pointed straight at me and he doesn’t even hesitate, just presses it to my lower lips, pulling me into him in one urgent thrust. His fingers dig into my back, pressing our bodies closer and closer together until he can’t get any deeper.
He’s biting on my neck, landing hot wet kisses behind my ears and my toes curl. The drag of his calloused lip across my collarbone pulses through my core, needy and all-consuming.
He doesn’t say a word, but the way he’s taking me speaks for itself. Raw, hard, like he owns me, like being inside me is the only thing he needs in the world right now. My back arches below him as I grip the sheets.
I feel the trembling in my thighs. I can’t hold off any longer. I close my eyes and let it flow through my body, my walls colliding around his cock and he just pushes deeper. I cum so hard that my ears are ringing. There is nothing in the world but the two of us and lust flowing through my veins. This hot pulsing dick that knows exactly how to rub me the right way.
Sweat is dripping from his forehead and his moans become louder.
He presses his mouth to my lips and I can tell by the way he’s holding me onto his dick, locking us together with his bloodstained hands, that he’s exploding inside of me, filling me with his cum.
“You’re perfect, Sloan,” he growls into my ear.
He doesn’t pull out, doesn’t let go, just runs his hands through my hair as he studies my face. I’m blissed out, high off of adrenaline from the day’s events and feeling closer to him than I ever imagined. I don’t care about the blood on his face. I don’t care where he was or what he was doing. At the end of the day, he’s here with me.
He only wants me.
I feel a tear begin rolling down my cheek and he just wipes it away, smiling at me, knowing.
“Let’s go take a shower,” he suggests. I don’t want to move. I could fall asleep like this right here, holding on to him and this moment forever, but he pulls out of me and takes me by the hand into the little attached bathroom with white subway tile lining the walls.
Reality hits me that I have no idea where I am.
This underground apartment, it’s a strange place. It’s sterile. It’s minimalist. There’s no natural light. The doors are steel and the air is unusually cold.
“Is this where you live?” I ask.
It’s not a bad place. I can tell the furniture is expensive and, aside from the trail of muddy clothes we are littering the bathroom floor with, it’s insanely clean. It’s just not him, just not the kind of place I’d expect a wild mountain man like him to live.
“For now,” he says. He draws the water, steam filling the bathroom, and begins to pull my shirt off over my head.
Stripping after sex is sensual in its own right. It’s as if he’s caring for me as he takes me down to nothing.
I’m purposely avoiding the mirror on the wall. I know my hair is full of twigs and dirt and Clutch’s blood has dried all over my clothes.
“You look so sexy all wild like that,” he laughs. I just smile and help him get out of his clothes.
We step into the shower, the rush of warm water relaxing every muscle in my body. His hands are all over me, lathering me in soap, his scent, and I just let him do what he feels like he needs to, enjoying the care and attention, savoring a moment where I don’t have to think about anything.
His touch is so natural, so nurturing. I rest my head on his perfect chest while the water beats down over us, never wanting to let go. He traces his fingers over my upper arm, and I snap back to reality.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, gripping it tighter as I try to pull away.
The bird of paradise tattoo does a good job of hiding the wreckage of my past on the surface, but the huge scar is still there if you look for it, if you feel for it.
“Nothing.” I shrug. “Just self-conscious, I guess.” I hate telling him a halfway lie, and maybe someday I can let him into that part of my world, but I’m not ready for that. I just want to enjoy whatever this is without having to think about the fact that it has to come to an end.
“You don’t have to be,” he says, looking in my eyes, and I believe him. I believe the person he thinks I am is so pristine and perfect that she could do no wrong. I don’t know how to explain to him that I’m not that person.
I press my lips to his in an attempt to show him what I need right now. Just him and silence.
He turns the water off behind me, stepping out, wrapping me in a giant towel.
“I have to leave,” he says, sadly. “I don’t want to, but I have some club business to wrap up.”
“I understand.” I shrug. “I really don’t want you to go, but I understand.”
“Are you going to be ok?” he asks. “I mean, with everything today…” He trails off.
“I’m going to be fine.”
“Help yourself to anything you want. You’re safe here.”
“When are you going to be back?” I ask. Right now, all I want to do is curl up beside him in bed and feel his strong arms around me as we fall asleep.
“I don’t know,” he says, shaking his head. “I’m sorry.”
He finishes toweling off and we go into the bedroom. I sit on the edge of the bed studying every inked line on his body, every little scar, every muscle, mole, hair, every part of him, searing it in my brain so that no matter what happens, I never forget.
I watch as he dresses, watch as he picks his pistol up off the nightstand and tucks it into his waistband. Watch as he slips into his cut.
I have so many questions and my brain is just now processing everything that had happened over the course of the day, hitting me like a ton of bricks. It’s midnight. Where could he possibly be going?
“You have to be at the hospital in the morning?” he asks.
“No.”
“Alright, please don’t go anywhere.”
“I don’t have any clothes,” I say with a smile. “I’m not exactly in the best position to run off.”“Naked and full of my cum, just like I want you always.” He pulls back the covers on the bed, motioning for me to slide in. He tucks the blankets tightly around me, as if that would keep me from leaving if I really wanted to.
He kisses me on the lips, and I can feel my arousal growing strong again. I don’t know what happened today. I don’t know what changed in me tonight. I just know that I’m forever transformed.
CHAPTER 18
Gavin
L eaving her there alone in the dark without any answers or any explanation feels like shit.
Leaving her period.
It’s painfully clear why she pushed me away today, and even if she doesn’t realize it right now, she’s smarter than she thinks. As long as the club is functioning the way it is now, this is no place for her. How could any woman be happy in this sort of chaos?
“We need to talk about what happened today, gentlemen,” my father says. He’s puffing on a cigar, dark clouds of smoke filling the war room.
Seated around the solid oak table are the Mountain Misfit officers, plus my sister. Everyone is half buzzed from celebrating our short term ‘victory’ but I know for a fact that this is only the beginning of a long and ugly war.
We are on the verge of something catastrophic, and I’m not sure why.
All I know is we sent a message loud and clear to the Sabers. Don’t fuck with us.
It could be an effective scare tactic or we could be facing retaliation beyond anything we could prepare for. By the jovial overall feeling in the room, I don’t think anyone’s thought that far ahead.
“What I’m wondering is,” I say, staring at my father and my sister, “why Blane Jaso was up here poking around just yesterday, and now all of this is happening. Obviously there’s some sort of connection.”
“Don’t blame me,” Esther is quick to bark. “I did my part. Fortunately, after a couple whiskeys, the guy passed right out.”
“I’m not blaming you,” I tell her, “and thank you.”
“Oh, he’s got a bug up his ass because I cut him out of the Feldman deal,” my father says. “It was on neutral territory. He’s gotta get over it. We sent him a message this afternoon. I’m sure he’ll retreat.”
None of us are a fan of the drug game that my dad has us wrapped up in right now, and the only person who seems to be keeping a map of these alleged ‘territories’ is him.
“And if he doesn’t?”
His sinister smile lights up the room. It makes me shudder.
“We’ll just keep doing whatever it takes to make sure he does. We can take our traveling circus downtown no worries. I got a list of home addresses, kids, grandkids, you name it.”
I’m pissed. I understand why no one else in the room wants to get in the middle of this with him, but surely I’m not the only person who is frustrated by his recent actions. We don’t know who our friends are, we have no idea who the enemy is, and apparently, we need to be watching our backs at all times in case of a random drive-by shooting.
“How much money did we make from this alleged Feldman deal?” I ask, point-blank, staring down Clutch, our treasurer.
“I honestly don’t know.” He shrugs. “Kinda got away from me today.” He motions to his arm, wrapped in layers of bandage.
“Right? Because you got fucking shot at, along with six more of our men. So hear me out. These little one-off drug runs, how much money are we actually making for the club?”
“It’s complicated, son,” my dad growls.
“How much is your arm worth, Clutch? How about Goob’s leg? An eye? An ear? How much do you value the LIVES of these men sitting in front of you, old man?”
He’s gonna fucking kill me the first chance he gets, but
I’m so fired up right now, I can’t stop.
“That’s a stupid ass argument you’re trying to make there. You gotta take the bad with the good. That’s how this business works.”
“I see. Clutch, what is the club’s top income source?” I ask. I know the answer.
“Please, Gav, can we not do this tonight?” he begs. My dad is shifting back and forth in his seat, obviously growing more and more uncomfortable with every question.
“We’re totally going to do this tonight. I’ll just say it. The top income source for the club is my bar. Coming in second is the moonshine business, which is probably a direct correlation to my bar. Then there’s guns.”
It’s common knowledge, but nobody ever dares to come right out and say it for fear that my father will go off the deep end. He’s losing more and more power every day.
Heat clears his throat and looks right at me, concern washing over his face. As chaplain, when he talks, everyone listens. He seems like he’s at loss for words right now though.
“We’re in the middle of a world war right now, like it or not. There’s blood on all our hands,” Heat says slowly. “We don’t need to start a civil war. Stand down, son.”
It’s not what I expected him to say at all. He always has my back. He wants to see my grandfather’s legacy come to life as much as I do.
“We’re gonna talk about this, and we’re gonna talk about this soon. Moses, you fucked up and you know it,” he says directly to my father. “Now we gotta figure out how to fix it, but we’re not having a dick measuring contest over money right now in a time of trouble. That’s not what this club stands for.”
“Why don’t you guys understand that we don’t need to be in trouble? Ike and his brothers, our founding fathers, set us up with everything we need to live out our lives exactly how we want on this mountain. The club stands for freedom more than anything, and the fact that we can’t even ride our bikes down the road without getting shot at is pretty much the exact opposite of that, wouldn’t you say?”
“Son, I just watched you slice a man open from his neck to his dick and you’re trying to get saintly on us now? What the fuck did that girl do to you?” my father asks.
