by Avelyn Paige
Tyson’s discussion with Red didn’t illicit any mind blowing details about her or her roommate. Red said that the blonde had worked there for well over a year and brought in more tips than any piece of eye candy he ever hired before her. Our prisoner had only worked there for a few weeks and kept to herself. She wanted to be paid under the table, which raised red flags, but Red couldn’t elaborate on the reason for it. He did say that she avoided his advances like the plague so that at least tells me the girl has some semblance of standards.
Raze stalks into the office just as I am about to shut down the computer for the day. I’ve been reviewing the financial figures Tyson laid on my desk. We’ve made quite a bit of new money in the last few months with our protection details. We’ve even had to go so far as to recruit more than the usual amount of prospects this year to cover our bases. We can’t go to work on protection detail jobs and leave our home unprotected. The security work gives the prospects experience and teaches them the skills they need to survive in this world.
“Any particular reason you’re hiding out back here and not out with the guys?” he asks from the doorway.
“Just getting shit done,” I reply. “Someone has to look out for our best interests.” It doesn’t take him long to realize I was taking a dig at his decisions lately. I’m not about to apologize for not sugar coating my feelings. I think he’s dragging his feet, and he needs to know. It’s part of my job of being VP to keep track of our side businesses and financial reports of the club even if they aren’t the same ideals of my president. I don’t always agree with the stubborn asshole, but you just have to know how to approach it without painting a target on your head.
“That mean what I think it’s supposed to?” he asks, sliding farther into the room and plopping down in the extra chair that sits in front of the desk. Propping his feet up on my desk, he kicks dust down on the papers lying there. “You know it’s close, Hero. I can feel it in the air. Shit’s about to happen. I had to send Trax up to Chico to check on Ace’s clubhouse since he’s gone dark this morning. He’s supposed to report in soon. Hopefully Ace just has malfunctioning technology in that shithole clubhouse. You’d think with the cash they’re bringing in with the new weed extract business they’d upgrade the place.”
“I can feel it, too. Guess you could say I’m sitting here with my dick in my hand waiting for permission to cum. I want to take care of this shit and move onto bigger and badder things,” I reply.
“Nice visual, asshole. The last thing I needed was to picture you jacking off. Jesus, Hero. Your brain is more fucked up than Ratchet. At least he has an excuse, his mom was a crack whore.”
“Eh, too much shitty pussy as a kid. Fucked my brain cells to death,” I answer with a shrug, shaking the dirt off of the papers. We both laugh at my response before it’s cut off with the ringing of his phone. Pulling it from his pocket, he waves it at me to show it’s Trax calling from up north.
“Raze,” he barks into the phone. Unable to hear his conversation, a sober look settles onto his face. “Call lockdown and get your asses down here. Start your guys on calling the other chapters.” Hanging up the phone, he slams his fists on the desk, shattering his phone into pieces that scatter across the tile floor.
“They hit Ace’s clubhouse. It’s been reduced to ashes. Trax counted twenty burned bodies inside the rubble. Those fuckers burned them all alive.”
“Jesus, Raze. What about the old ladies and the club mamas? Any sign of them?”
“Nothing. They’ve run off, or they’ve been taken hostage. I guess you get your wish. We’re going to war. Call the guys and have them bring their families back to the clubhouse. We’re going dark.”
Jumping from the chair, he starts out the door. “Call Maj,” Raze demands. “Get her ass here now.”
“On it, Prez,” I say, unlocking my cell phone with a single swipe. I type in the number for the salon and a surprising voice picks up. Dani’s sexy voice penetrates my ears and wraps around my heart. Now is not the time for Shakespearean thoughts. Do your job, Hero. I berate her for answering the phone knowing damn well she’s breaking one of the rules. I bark at her to give Maj my message. Our phone conversation is cut short as Ratchet slides into the room.
“We’ve got a situation, Prez. One of our civilian contacts just called. Twisted Tribe is rolling into town from the south. We need to circle the wagons sooner rather than later.”
“Fuck!” Raze exclaims. “Get on the horn and call all the chapters home. Get Ruby an escort to stock up on groceries and tell her plan for an extended lockdown. It’s time to take these fuckers out once and for all.”
The room erupts in cheers as the men disperse to their tasks. Raze has finally called us to arms and declared war against Jagger’s murderers. I’m ready to take these fuckers down. I grab Voodoo and send him after Maj. The first lady of the club needs to be secured before any of the other women. She’s the most likely target if the fuckers are ignoring the rules about leaving women and children out of the men’s issues. I send Irons and Thrasher with Ruby to get supplies in the cage.
Harley after Harley pour into the parking lot, and Maj finally arrives on the back of Voodoo’s bike. Seeing her safe brings me relief, but it’s short-lived. Dani is nowhere to be found. Rushing to Voodoo’s bike, I check behind him to see if she’s coming up with one of the other guys.
“Where’s Dani?” I yell over the roar of his engine.
“She’s still at the salon.” I think about her not coming back with Slider. “She’s secured in the building. I’m about to go back for her.” How can he be so stupid? She could be dead by now. That bastard should have called as soon as he realized that Dani was going to be left behind. I just hope I can reach her in time.
“There’s no time. Tribe’s already rolling in. You get Maj inside and lock shit down. I’ll go after her. Get the bikes out back and the outbuildings locked down. Have the girls get the basement rooms ready. We’ve got a lot of brothers on their way.” Slapping him on the back, I jump into one of the club’s SUVs and tear down the drive. Ignoring the rules of the road and breaking just about every traffic law on the books, I make it to the salon within five minutes. Broken glass litters the sidewalk, and several of the chairs that used to be in the waiting section of the salon are lying busted next to a Silver Harley. Fuck, I’m too late.
Circling around back, I barely get the vehicle in park before I jump from it, hitting the ground running. I hope she’s either hidden well enough to avoid discovery or gotten away. I’d rather she be back on the run than dead. Her death would be on all of our hands because we failed to keep her safe. If she’s alive, Voodoo will be having a long discussion with my fist. You don’t fucking leave one of us behind. I don’t care if she may be traitor, she’s our responsibility. I round the corner of the door, gun drawn, when Dani runs into me. Her shirt and arms are covered in blood, but it doesn’t seem to be hers. Thank fuck, she’s alive.
“Are you okay, Dani?” I ask. “Did he hurt you?” She assures me she’s fine. I hear a groan coming from the back door and shoving her aside, I rush inside. I’m shocked when I lay my eyes on the scene in front of me. A Hispanic man lies on the ground bleeding profusely from his face. He writhes and moans in pain. Jesus, Dani put up a fight and took the bastard down herself. I knew she was a hellcat but fuck, he’s three times her size. Kicking a tool box out of the way, I move closer to the man with my gun drawn.
“Who are you?” I ask as I pull him from the ground, stowing my gun in the waistband of my jeans. He’s no threat now that he likely can’t see from the coagulated blood and embedded glass in his face. He mutters in unintelligible Spanish. Dani must have broken his jaw with the bottle. He’s useless to us if he can’t talk. I pull my handgun back out and cock the hammer back, putting the barrel of the gun to his forehead. Just before I pull the trigger, my eyes catch the patch on his cut. He’s the fucking vice president of Twisted Tribe. Looks like it’s his lucky day, Raze will want him alive as a ba
rgaining chip. Replacing the gun back into my jeans, I pull some wire ties from the open toolbox by the back door, securing his hands together.
Walking out the door, I roughly grab Dani and forcibly shove her into the SUV. She begs me for answers about what’s going on, but she’s not privileged enough for answers. The double T VP may have tried to kill her, but it still doesn’t clear her name. I won’t touch or answer her until I know for sure. Going back for the bastard, I haul his ass out of the salon, taking care to drag him through the broken glass and wreckage he caused, and into the backseat of the SUV, making sure the fucker lands on his injured face. I’m not about to be careful with the man who likely ordered the deaths of over twenty of our men in Chico. His club will pay for the blood they’ve spilled. Revenge will begin with him.
Pulling into the clubhouse, I park the SUV in the back lot and drag our prisoner into the shed where they strung up Jagger. His blood will replace Jagger’s on the floor, wiping the murder clean. Dani still begs for answers, but I remain silent. Voodoo lets her inside, and I sigh in relief knowing she’s now safe in the clubhouse amongst my brothers. She at least listened to me about giving Raze my message as he stalks out of the clubhouse toward me.
“Brought you a gift, Prez. The VP of Twisted Tribe attacked Dani but by the time I got there, she used his face as a bottle opener. Pretty sure his jaw is jacked, but figured you’d want him in our possession instead of dead on the salon’s back room floor.”
“Holy shit,” he exclaims. “Dani did this to his face?” Nodding my head yes, I kick our prisoner into the dirt. Raze takes one look at the man and trudges into the shed, returning with rope. Wrapping it around his bound wrists, he throws the other end over the ceiling brace and hauls him from the ground inside the shed until he’s in the air, his blood streaking the ground as he’s dragged. His body swings as Raze ties off the rope onto one of the support beams along the wall. He walks up to face the man who was responsible for executing Jagger and spits in his face before sucker punching him in the jaw.
“Your club killed my brothers. Your death will be the first of many. Your club will be blood stains on the ground by the time we’re done with you.” Raze continues to hit him in the face until he’s unrecognizable. It’s a surprise he’s still alive after taking such a beating. Wiping his bloodied knuckles with a rag, Raze steps out of the shed and closes the doors. His silence means only one thing. We’re going to war. A mental checklist clicks through my mind of the supplies we’ll need, and potential strike strategies flitter to life. My military training helps me when shit like this happens. As long as I’ve got planning to do, I can keep myself calm and level headed. I won’t walk into the upcoming shit storm unprepared. That’s how you get killed, and I am not about to lose another fucking brother to those bastards.
A hoard of Harleys pulls into our drive, shaking the ground under our feet like an earthquake. Our brothers are here. We’ll get them settled in and call Church after dinner.
“Let Ratchet come out and work him over. Just don’t let him kill the fucker before we hit tomorrow in case his information is fucking bogus. As soon as we’re clear, Ratchet can end him. The kill is his,” Raze orders as we walk back up to the clubhouse.
He stops and looks back at the shed before we enter the clubhouse.
“It’s time for you to do your thing, Hero. Their bloodlines end tomorrow.”
Hours after I was locked down in my room like an unruly child by Raze and Hero, I am still fuming from their demands. They seem to think that I am innocent when it comes to the drunken ways of men, or they don’t want to broadcast to the other chapters that they have a potential spy in their midst. I can assuredly handle myself, but those two bastards seem to think otherwise. I’ve spent so much time in this damned room in the last month that being in here longer than I need to be able to sleep and clean-up is making me go stir crazy. I tried to read at first but I couldn’t concentrate on the words with the music pounding in from the common area. The man that attacked me keeps popping into my head and makes me wonder if Hero has killed him yet. They really need to add some new songs to the jukebox after I’ve been listening to AC/DC’s entire collection for the past three hours. There’s only so many times you can hear “Thunderstruck” before you start considering shoving a pencil into your ears. You’d think with war looming over their heads they’d be quietly planning and contemplating the coming operation instead of getting blitzed and fucking the club whores.
I start to hear screaming and moaning coming from the room next to me. One of the brothers must be getting lucky with one of the club mamas. She screams, “Oh baby, fuck me with your huge dick,” before crying out in a painfully-faked orgasm. I’m just glad the hard slapping of their flesh and the bed pounding against my wall only lasted five minutes. Jesus, Raze needs to invest in thicker walls. I could feel her sarcasm all the way in my room. Why these women spread their legs and mouths openly when they drop their pants is beyond me. I hear footsteps walking out of the room next to me. Unable to stow my curiosity, I fall to the floor and watch the boots crossing in front of my door. Damn, I can’t see who the one shot wonder was. Just as I start to stand from the floor, a pair of sparkly stiletto heels stops in front of my door. One of the club mama’s must be lost. This room does not contain the dick they are looking for.
“Dani?” calls a soft feminine voice.
“Yes,” I return.
“It’s Bubbles. Can I come in?”
What the hell does she want? Maybe Raze or Hero needs something or hell, maybe I’m being sold to the other club since I’m no longer useful since they’ve declared war with my luck. Slowly opening the door, I see Bubbles impatiently waiting in a blue rhinestone-covered bikini.
“What do you need, Bubbles?” I ask while eyeing her apparel. That outfit doesn’t exactly cover much as her nipples are barely staying cover by the flimsy material. “Can you come help me at the bar? Ruby was helping me, but one of the guys dragged her off somewhere.”
Shaking my head at her, I say, “No, Bubbles. You know Raze and Hero confined me in here. I’m not supposed to leave the room.” Her smile fades from her excessive makeup-covered face.
“Oh, I figured since you weren’t busy that you’d be willing to help. Raze said you could if you wanted to come out until Ruby got back.” My eyes narrow at her response. Why would Raze lift my house arrest to help contribute to the drunken level of the other charter clubs?
“Are you sure Raze said it was okay, Bubbles?” Her dimpled smile returns to her face as she vigorously shakes her head.
“Please, Dani, I really need the help. The guys have probably already overrun the bar while I came to talk to you.”
“Fine, I’ll help, but you better not be lying to me about Raze’s reprieve.” She attacks me with a hug and giggles like a teenage girl at a boy band show.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she stammers while dragging me down the hall into the heart of the party. The first thing I recognize is the scent of weed, liquor and sex permeating the air. I don’t recognize any of the old ladies in the bevy of women littering the room. When the old ladies are away, the old dogs will stray it seems. Every single man in this room has a pretty woman draped across them. Moving behind the bar, I can see Ratchet and Slider being blown by a couple of the girls the South Beach charter brought with them. The pretty little blonde’s hair bobs up and down on Slider’s lap, nearly making me sick. I’ll never be able to look at him the same way again.
I try to drown out the sight that was burned into my eyes by getting to work and keeping the drinks flowing. Bubbles and I take command over the bar and catch up the backlog of orders in about thirty minutes. An older man steps up to the bar and plops down on the stool next to where I am pouring buttery nipple shots. His face is worn from years of riding his bike in the California sun that it almost reminds me of leather.
“What can I get you to drink?” I ask as I turn to get the bar rag off the back counter. He yanks me by the arm,
attempting to pull me across the bar and into his lap. Jerking my arm out of his grip, I move myself farther back from the front counter. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I yell at him. He jumps up from his stool and slides across the bar. His tattooed, leathery arms pin me against the wood. “You’ve been flaunting those beautiful tits and perfect ass around here yet not a single man has touched you. I want to know why. You property, because I don’t see a patch on you?” he asks as his whiskey-laced breath burns my nostrils. He pulls me in tighter as I try to escape his grasp. “Come on, baby girl, give this old man some of your sweet pussy!” he whispers into my ear as his lips descend closer to mine.
Slamming my head against his face, he stumbles back, releasing me. “Don’t fucking touch me!” I yell, darting out from behind the bar.
“Now, darlin’, you don’t think I’d just let you walk away after that little stunt you pulled. I was going to be nice to you, but now I think I’m going to fuck you raw in front of everyone in this club. No club whore strikes one of the patches,” my attacker yells while walking away from the bar. He follows me as I attempt to make my way back to the safety of my room. I should have never left it in the first place. I’m so goddamn stupid to think Raze’s men would protect me. I know what I am about to do will stir shit up with the other members of the club, but this has got to stop.
The fat, old bastard obviously isn’t the type of man who takes no for an answer. I turn to walk away as he grabs my right arm. I use the momentum from his pull and rear back, throwing the hardest haymaker I can manage. I feel the cartilage and bone snap from the force of my hand connecting with his nose. By instinct, his hand comes to his face to find the source of pain and bleeding. He pulls his hand away, his flesh covered in blood. “You stupid bitch,” he yells, lunging for me. “You’ll pay for this. No two-bit whore strikes a member of this club and comes out of it untouched.” His hands grab my waist just as my knee connects with his balls. He falls to the ground screaming in agony. I kick him in the ribs twice to make sure he not only stays down but to make my point crystal clear.
