Vicious

by LS Silverii

  “So?” Justice asked.

  “I don’t see a judge issuing us a court-ordered subpoena for Google’s records.” Rage laughed louder than he maybe should have.

  Justice’s stilted expression made that clear.

  “But we got the advantage,” he added, his chest swelling as he spoke.

  Justice scanned the small gathering across the porch. “Advantage?”

  “Unlike the feds, we ain’t got no rules to follow.”

  * * *

  Abigail hid behind the door. Her knobby knees wobbled as her ears struggled to hear every detail. The more she listened, the more her gut knotted with a sickening realization. She’d not heard all of it, but enough to know she was fucked once Rage connected her to the e-mail sent from Geneti’s apartment. Skinned alive would be the least they did, if that or her communications with Gray Man were revealed.

  The sound of Justice’s rocking chair signaled it was time to move. Sweat covered her brow. She clung to the wall with white knuckled fingers. The hallway seemed blurry and long—very long. Blood pounded as it rushed to her head. Dizzy, she fought to be quiet. Tumultuous thoughts spun. What to do next? Finally, a jolt of common sense shook her. There was nothing left to do but run.

  Her chest rose and fell in labored huffs. She threw herself onto Justice’s bed before she heard the footfalls. They stomped louder as they drew nearer. She willed her heartbeat to slow. The combination of the run upstairs, her secret soon to be revealed, and the kiss shared with James St. John the night before made settling her pulse impossible.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Justice feigned concern as he stalked neared the bed.

  Her skin burned hot as she imagined how guilty she must have looked. “Oh nothing, baby. I just woke up all hot and bothered thinking about you.”

  She knew instantly those words were a mistake. Like a match to a fuse, he’d take that as a challenge to quench her desire. Though she’d begged to be taken before in order to gain admittance into the Nation, she now wanted nothing to do with him. And everything to do with St. John.

  “What can daddy do for you?” he asked, while ruffling her unkempt mane.

  His touch repulsed her, but to gain revenge on the bastards who killed her son, she had to make sacrifices. Those sacrifices included her body.

  She rolled across the king-sized bed, and exaggerated a much-needed stretch. Her eyes popped wide at the sight of her clothes strewn on the floor. Fury’s pistol lay partly exposed between last night’s jeans and t-shirt she’d tossed down. She had to distract him.

  “Breakfast?”

  “Baby wants breakfast?”

  “Yes, would you please get me some?”

  “Here’s your breakfast, baby.” Justice whipped out his dick and shuffle-stepped closer to the mattress, one big foot settling near the gun.

  I’m going to be sick sucking his cock. I hope St. John doesn’t walk by.

  She took his semi-erect stem in her fist and began to fumble with it. “Thank you, daddy. You know just what I need.”

  She tried to present a false front as if sucking his meaty dick was all she needed to be happy in this life. Her hand trembled through her hair as she mustered up the saliva to take his entire length in her dry morning mouth. She scooted her ass close to the edge of his bed. If she could dangle her feet, then she could kick the clothes and pistol beneath the bed. Justice liked her on all fours—so no chance of kicking the pile.

  He stroked her back and ass like a pet while she blew him. She’d hated it at first. Abigail smashed her eyes closed and forced herself to focus on his rhythm. She’d learned to find small victories by controlling the brothers during sex. They might’ve outnumbered her during their frequent gangbangs and trains, but her only way to survive the assaults was to get them to orgasm as fast as possible. They never bitched—it was all they wanted anyway.

  Shivers coursed through her body. She tensed, but then eased her pussy around the giant’s fingers that were larger than most men’s dicks. She orgasmed, but resented that her body could no longer distinguish between pleasure and avoiding discipline. She bowed her neck with rigid resistance as thoughts of St. John’s lips were being tainted by Justice’s shaft.

  Finger fucking became intense—she felt at least three thick rods inside of her. She tried to ease off his dick to catch her breath. Her heart rate remained at a rocket’s pace. Her tongue darted to lick the swollen, purple head of his cock. A string of cum attached itself to her tongue and dripped across her lip and chin.

  “Enough play, bitch. Suck my cock, I got big shit going down today.” He rammed the mushroom of his cock head between her tight lips until she gagged as it smashed against the back of her throat.

  She fought it free from her mouth. “Bitch?” she asked with equal parts hurt and pissed.

  “Yeah, my baby doesn’t go on dates with brothers. Only bitches do.”

  His big, bad ass is fucking jealous.

  “No, Justice. It wasn’t a date. I belong to you and I love that. I only went because you said I had to.” She averted her eyes. He’d detect her lie in a second.

  Powerful fingers snarled in her already knotted tresses. “Then show me,” he whispered. She winced as the force of his pulling jerked her head and neck. Panic began to seize her. She looked for a way to avoid sucking his dick, yet hiding the gun.

  She maneuvered her right knee close to her exposed breasts and inched her foot forward until it hung off the mattress. Hopeful once her toe touched the wooden floor, she swept for the gun.

  “Disobeying me again? You asked for breakfast, so I’m going to feed you.” His grip twisted until she opened her mouth to yell, but he filled it with his engorged dick before a yelp eked out. The force of him pumping her throat shoved her off balance and back onto the bed. Both legs contorted beneath her. She struggled against the violent jerks of her head slammed into his pelvis.

  Although Abigail had become numb to the blood brothers’ physical abuse, her moments of clarity came more frequently as time since Jack’s murder had passed. She still suffered from a psychotic case of not giving a fuck but sometimes more lucid moments broke through.

  “I take your desperate ass into my family, and this is how you show your loyalty? You fuck around with another brother? I should have you tattooed again.”

  His mouth pumps grew harder and deeper with each pounding against sore lips stretched so wide they cracked. She stopped worrying about whether St. John walked in. She heard something more important in Justice’s tone than the concern in her heart—he sounded hurt.

  She also stopped worrying about him finding the pistol—he’d see it soon enough once it was pointed between his empty eyes. Abigail pressed through—she knew his big ass was about to cum. He’d care less about looking for a gun once his body began the typical convulsions he experienced with each orgasm.

  Come on asshole—fuck my mouth until you cum. You’re mine now.

  Chapter 5

  Bart Crane’s cooked flesh tasted like pork. Why would I have expected anything else, though he did suck a great cock once he knew his life depended on it. Fucking pig going down on a psycho like me, he needed killing.

  Thanks to that other idiot, Fury, from the Savage Souls, I knew exactly what my plan would be. Piggy here would end up on their property for the cops to find after an anonymous tip. Well, the cops would recover what parts of dick-sucking Bart I hadn’t fried up in his own kitchen.

  The drive to Mystic was slow, but having to creep along the shitty ass dirt roads to their clubhouse really sucked. I thought about stopping along the way a time or two to fuck Bart’s ass, but he still felt so good I was afraid I’d never make it there and back in time.

  Finally, I found nice clumps of grass and mounds of mud to halfway hide his body. I usually didn’t give a fuck where I dumped the corpses, but this was my first time posing some dumb ass biker as a plant.

  Bart’s white skin glistened beneath the moon’s glow. I sat next to him for a bit to catc
h my breath, and traced the tattoos over his body with my gloved finger. He almost seemed to moan at my touch—like he used to do while I topped him. He was a fantastic sub, and I hated to lose him.

  My dick tingled.

  Breaths caught in my chest as the light finger traces turned into massaging Bart’s lifeless body. My fingers dared to run beneath the waistband of his white underwear, and I couldn’t resist. Sure, his cock and balls had been whacked off before he died—after I clamped the arteries. We both enjoyed dining on them—or at least I did while he cried like a bitch, but that sexy ass was still in tact. My dick pulsed as both hands dug deep into the hardening muscles of his butt.

  I was shoved ball-deep in his ass when… I guess I’d gotten too excited about enjoying my prey. Footsteps were right behind me. Fuck it, I was busted so I might as well finish what I started.

  “Hey, what the hell you think you doing?”

  “I’m butt fucking, what does it look like?” I snickered at my snarky reply.

  “You trespassing on sacred soil.”

  “This Indian land?” I was so close to coming, and this buffoon watching me was going to make my orgasm epic.

  “No, asshole. It’s Savage Soul territory.”

  Wrath blinded me for a flash. Being called an asshole set me off. I’d practiced keeping my temper in check like my mommy always said, but shit like this motherfucker just said was uncalled for.

  “I’d like you to apologize for calling me that,” I said very kindly, though I felt like the words were pitchforks being yanked up my throat.

  “Fuck you. Who are you and your bitch?”

  “Who are you?”

  “I’m Toad. Head of Savage Soul’s security team. Now, who are you?”

  I felt the orgasm brewing deep, strong within my loins. This was nothing normal. I was almost afraid I’d have a stroke or something medical.

  “Pleasure to meet you Mister Toad. One moment and I’ll be on my way.”

  Something inside me exploded. My head began bucking in opposite contortions from my body. I couldn’t contain it, so I let it consume me with all its mystical glory. Bart’s ass still felt warm, almost responsive, though I preferred it dead—less clean up after.

  I heard a hammer cock on what sounded like a double-barrel shotgun. “Last chance dumb ass.”

  “Dumb ass?”

  I don’t recall what precisely happened next, but when I came to myself, Toad’s dead body had my knife drilled into his sternum and damn near exited through his severed spine. Somehow, I guess Toad had also decided to have dead sex with Bart—couldn’t blame him though. They were both naked and looked so content.

  I slipped my cum filled condom back in my pants pocket, tossed Toad’s leather club cut over my shoulder and decided to steal Mr. Toad’s bike as opposed to making that long trek back.

  I laughed once I realized what I’d been whistling—the Andy Griffith theme song.

  Chapter 6

  The former cafeteria of the old bed and breakfast was once again filled with fully patched brothers ready to attend their weekly church service, although there wasn’t the usual two hundred or so who regularly attended. Justice had begun dispatching the more reliable brothers to surrounding local chapters to ensure their loyalty to the Nation.

  Justice strutted across the front of the room like a lion. His face reflected a disturbance his spirit couldn’t calm. He called a biker from the front row as the others filed by to take their seats, “You seen Toad? Not like him to disappear like this. Is he back on the stuff?”

  “Boss, I don’t know where he is,” the skinny redheaded man said.

  “Is he back on it, I asked?” Justice leaned in, closing the gap between them.

  “I just cook it. I don’t know if what he takes to sell is being stepped on for his habit.”

  Justice’s expression lacked acceptance for the cooker’s feeble reply. His hand slapped down over the man’s knobby shoulder. He pulled him close. “Last chance.”

  “Yes, Toad has hit the shit hard over the last weeks to stay awake at his post. Said you gave him a big job and he had to be alert twenty-four/seven.”

  “Try telling me the truth the first time. You’ll live longer,” Justice, whispered his promise.

  The room filled, but not with united men. Justice sensed the roil of emotions associated with uncommitted warriors. He’d learned first hand dealing with Middle Eastern tribesmen and councils that there were many factions within any organization. Friendships and interests associated most, but the minority thrived on subversion. He’d have to root out those apples rotten to the core.

  “Vengeance, Toad’s gone AWOL. I need you to take over perimeter security.”

  “Fuck that dude¸ I got shit of my own to handle. I ain’t got time to fill in for that crank head.”

  Justice didn’t fuck with Vengeance often because he’s seen how unstable he could become. “Then what will it take my blood brother? These are dangerous days, and the evil feds are lurking. I need my best men watching our backs.”

  “You know what I want. Another go at your pig,” he snarled with a disgusted look pasted across his face. His sharp tongue slipped over his lips.

  Justice looked toward the far side of the room. St. John sat alone—arms folded and face forward—focused on the impending war it seemed. Justice ran his fingers through his uncut mane. He blew air out to empty his lungs.

  “All right. Just don’t hurt her.”

  “Who said I hurt her? That pig?” Vengeance’s eyes glittered wild with retaliation.

  “She did. Go easy with her. Other shit’s brewing around her too.”

  Vengeance slapped him on the shoulder and laughed. “No problems, big bro. I’ll be gentle as a lamb.” He smirked as he bolted toward the large double doors.

  “Vengeance, not now. After church. I told you I needed you to keep a watch for the cops.”

  He raised his chin in Justice’s direction. “Oh, yeah. Right on.”

  “Come to order. Welcome brothers. SFFS.” Justice addressed the congregation.

  Justice closed his eyes to bask in the replying chant of Savage Forever, Forever Savage. Their voices were still not as united as he’d hoped, but at least they were in attendance. It was time for him to pull his club back together. He kept his eyes shut and allowed silence to blanket the room.

  “I’m torn. There are traitors amongst us. Look at the man to your right.” He hesitated for the confusion of his commands to sink in and settle down. “Now look at the man on your left. How well do you know him?” Loud chatter rose from the brothers.

  “Which of you are opposed to our way of living free? Which of you know one of the same men who oppose our creed? Who are the rats that feed from our labors?”

  Fights immediately broke out across the hall. Justice watched who participated. Eventually each skirmish was broken up and everyone returned to their seats, or were seated away from the brothers they’d fought with.

  “I’m going to assume this will be the end of anyone’s efforts to destroy this Nation. I will deal with the next rat personally. Let me assure you—you will not survive the confrontation. If you no longer believe in the code, then you are free to leave now.”

  His eyes scanned the room, but no one flinched.

  “Then onto business. We’re going to clean up the Vegas chapter next, but I need about twenty-five good warriors I can trust to work with the chapter’s president, Dragon Mike. Talk to Mercy after the meeting if you’re one of those brothers.”

  Both doors swung open.

  “What the fuck?” escaped Justice’s mouth.

  Police Chief Jennifer Perez stormed in, followed by a cluster of heavily armed officers in tactical gear. “I have a search warrant for this entire compound. I don’t want anyone to move—you will be arrested.” Perez’s near-shout overcompensated for her naturally soft tone, but her fierce look of determination signaled it was best to cooperate.

  “Can I help you, baby?” Justice reached out
to shake her hand. Where the fuck was Vengeance? He was supposed to be on watch.

  She ignored the gesture. “My name is Chief Perez, outlaw.”

  “No, your name is Jennifer. Your title is Chief—that’s why you’ve always acted like such a prick—you confuse who you are, with what you do.”

  She looked cross at him and shook her head. “Here’s a search warrant allowing us to search every square inch of this property. I’d suggest you cooperate or we’ll rip this fucking place apart.” She stepped toward him.

  He didn’t budge—Justice wasn’t amused by her antics. “Baby, be careful what you get yourself into. Don’t start a war unless you’re willing to die for the cause,” he whispered low—strong words he knew he’d be able to back up.

  “Oh this is worth it. Two counts of first degree murder.”

  “Murder?” Justice finally felt a twinge of anxiety.

  How’d she connect the Geneti murders back in Vegas to him?

  “We found the bodies on your property, and saw one of your boys riding his HOG away from the scene.”

  “Whose bodies?”

  “Officer Bart Crane and one of your low lifes, Toad. We got an anonymous tip on where the bodies were and when I pulled up, I saw one of your outlaws fleeing.”

  “Sounds like a bullshit setup, Perez. This shit ain’t going to fly. Fury, call our attorney right now.” He waved for his blood brother to approach.

  Wide-eyed, Fury’s mouth opened before words would form. “What’s up Justice?”

  “Perez here says they found Toad and one of her cops, dead on our property. Call our lawyers to get out here right now.” Justice smashed his fist into his open palm.

  Sweat exploded from Fury’s forehead. “It wasn’t Officer Bart Crane was it?”

  Justice jerked his look away from Chief Perez. He glared, watching his blood brother wilting before him.