I did not expect that reaction.
“There wasn’t time. Rage had Sarge in Tennessee looking after our interests down there—and I know you brothers are good men, that’s why you’re here now. But what I couldn’t know is how you’d feel working with the Lords and there sure as hell wasn’t time to find out.”
“So what does this all mean?” Dark cuts in.
“It means I already alerted Duke Ellis to keep his woman guarded and we have the full backing of the Lords. This is what each of you needs to find out from other brothers and be okay with for yourselves—because once we team up with the Lords, there’s no going back to the old days. Rage will kill us for treason. We do this, we’re marked men. I know my choice because I know what I won’t do.” These men are smart. They know the right questions to ask without raising any suspicions about what we’re about to take on.
“Rage needs to die,” Sarge says.
“I’ve been itching to take out Grunt ever since he beat the shit outta that pussy for turning him down.” Dark cracks his neck and the knuckles on his fingers.
“Agreed,” Cutter says. “Along with the brothers inside. How do we get to them? Dagger, Bull—they got the men behind ‘em and won’t let the club go without a fight, even if they don’t step foot in it for the next thirty to fifty years.”
“Okay. I’m taking a vote. I know you won’t fight against us, but I need to know if each of you is in the fight with us.”
“In,” all the brothers say at once.
“You sure?” I ask.
“How much more in can we be?” Roughneck asks. “You asked for in. We gave you in. Now it’s time to plan.”
Right. Now it’s time to plan.
At the end of an arduous hour, we decide to break. Sarge is with me. We’re checking out the security at the new drug house on the outskirts of the county—almost into the next. An abandoned farm. Hell, I don’t even know if the club bought the property or are squatting there.
Part of the roof of the farmhouse has collapsed in on itself and several panels of the white clapboard siding are missing. It’s okay, because the house isn’t what Rage wants this place for. Now the barn—the barn is in perfect condition for drug production. Solid roofing, foundation, and beams. In the few spots of missing siding, they work for ventilation.
We casually take note of the cameras hidden in the trees, and the closer we get, attached to the house and barn. Sarge points out two running up the long drive and I catch sight of three different locations on the property Rage has got wired.
While inside the barn, Sarge and I will have to check out the monitor situation to see if we’ve caught all the cameras. On the down low, of course. Rolling to a stop, switching off our engines, Sarge and I dismount and saunter up to the outbuilding like we don’t have a care in the world.
We’re met by two brothers loyal to Rage at the threshold. “Brothers,” I say, tipping my chin up in greeting. They move to block us from entering. Not good.
“There a reason you’re here?” The larger of the guards, Juice, asks. Juice’s name is aptly given, as he’s not tall, maybe 5’9, but during his prospecting, he more than doubled his body mass—the kind of muscles he could’ve only gotten through juicing. He outweighs me by possibly fifty pounds and I’m not a small man. Not a brother you want to clash with if you don’t have to.
Unfortunately, it seems we’ll have to.
“Prez sent me on a job. Been a snag. Need to discuss the particulars.”
“And what would those be?” he asks.
“Whoa—Sarge.” I turn to my brother. “Did you know Juice here is the new president?”
“When did this happen?” Sarge shouts. “Why weren’t we told?”
“Shut the fuck up,” Juice grumbles.
Sarge and I chuckle, smirking like we're a couple of easy-going brothers until I look Juice dead in the eye. “Don’t you ever question me again or I’ll carve off your nuts and make you choke on ‘em. Rage gave me a job. You stick to being the Horde’s mall cop.” I shove past him using my shoulder to shove him out of my way.
With Sarge at my back, we seek out Rage while getting a look at the monitor situated on a table just inside and to the left of the barn door. The setup consists of the monitor plugged into an outlet bar attached to an orange extension cord fed through the window. It’s probably hooked up to a wooden electrical pole outside the barn.
We keep moving past the monitor to find Rage in order to not raise suspicions. We’ll get camera count on the way out.
Just like in the last place, there’re four tables set up, but unlike the last, all four tables are taken up with the production and packaging of the meth Rage is so fond of releasing into the public sphere. It stinks bad and I’m immediately hit with a burning chemical headache.
I pinch the bridge of my nose because providing pressure usually helps ease the pain. Not this time.
“The fuck you doin’ here?” Rage bellows from across the small space. I look up. Sarge’s posture stiffens at my side. The men at the tables pause their work only long enough to discern if they have a problem on their hands. When they see me and Sarge, they dismiss us and go back to work.
“Snag in the plan,” I tell him. “How can you stand to work in this shit? It stinks to hell and back.”
Rage snickers. “Smells like money to me. Now, what’s the snag?”
“Don’t know if the Lord pussies got other threats coming in on ‘em, but it’s going to take longer than we wanted to nab the cunt. Been watching. They’ve got at least two guards on their women at all times. That means a shift to your timeline.”
“And you, Sarge? The fuck you doin’ here?”
“Just backing a brother up. He’ll get to her. It’s just going to take a little more finesse.”
“Right.” Rage scowls at us. “Get on it. I want it done.” He dismisses us then, turning back to the operation in progress.
That done, Sarge and I turn to leave taking in that there’s only two ways in and out of the barn. We walk slower leaving, allowing us to count the squares of video feed on the monitor.
“Two,” Sarge says disguised as a cough. Two more cameras we hadn’t clocked. If anyone could recognize their locations off of a brief glimpse from a video feed, it’s Sarge. The man has a fucking eagle’s eye. And I know he’s clocked the locations when I glance over to him and he nods once sharply.
We mount our rides, heading back down the long drive. The stink follows us, stuck in my nose, coating my mouth until I pick up enough speed for the wind to clear it out.
The brothers are going to have to meet up with the Lords. We can’t do this without them. Now I need to figure out how to make that meeting happen without being seen by any Horde or Horde friendlies.
Lucky for us, Bentley, home base for the Kentucky Horde, is a county over from Thornbriar, the home of the Lords. Though that doesn’t mean we’re safe. Rage keeps eyes on the Lords the best he can. The man’s obsessed with them.
Before heading to the clubhouse, I pull into the back parking lot of the Walmart with Sarge following. I’ve got to call Duke. He answers my call first ring. That’s how serious this shit is. “Whatcha got?” he asks.
“We’ve done some recon and I’ve got brothers testing the waters, who they think will be with us and who’ll be against us. We need a meet, but my brothers need to be there, too.”
“Come to the clubhouse. You know where the Lords reside.”
“Six Horde brothers can’t just roll up on your compound. Like that wouldn’t get back to Rage before we hit home,” I remind him of the obvious.
“The Lords own an old white van. No windows in the back. I’ll leave it parked in that empty lot behind the lumber store tomorrow mornin’. No one’ll see it. Driver door’ll be unlocked. Key under the seat. Y’all leave yer bikes parked and take the van to the compound. It’s the safest place to plan.”
“Maybe for a Lord,” I mumble and get his returning laugh.
“Men got
respect fer ya, whatcha did fer our women. Our women think ‘a ya like a brother. And since a happy woman means really great head, I like keepin’ my woman happy, which means I guarantee the safety ‘a you and yer brothers.”
“Fair enough.” What else could I say? I got the guarantee from the big guy himself. “We’ll be there tomorrow. Noon. That work?”
“Normally, since it’s Sunday and after I fuck my wife, she, the kids and I spend the morning eatin’ donuts and drinkin’ orange juice while watchin’ fuckin’ Disney movies”—I crack the hell up at that—“I’d say one works best. But seein’ as we gotta get this shit done, I’ll expect ya at noon.”
“Good show. Noon. Tomorrow.” I use that as my sign off and disconnect.
“Got a plan?” Sarge asks.
“Duke’s leaving a van parked behind the lumber store in Thornbriar. We’re driving that up to the Lords’ compound.”
Sarge cocks his head, wrinkling his brows as if he thinks I just went off the deep end of sanity.
“Please. He guarantees us safe passage. They want an end to Rage as much as we do. Don’t know how long this truce will last, but it’s there.”
“Well, I always got your six, brother. You go, I go.”
Before we head home, Sarge sends out an email to the rest of our crew, filling them in on the plans for tomorrow. That means no staying out all night. Bitches need to be gone by a regular time because it takes a good forty-five minutes to reach the Lords’ compound from Bentley.
We ride back to the clubhouse. The virgin lets us through the gate. My gut tells me he’ll be on our side. Once we’ve decided on a plan of action, I’ll talk to the kid myself, get a feel for which way he’s leaning.
The pussies have already started showing up by the time we make it back to the clubhouse and I’m stressed. I walk up to tug gently on the hair of one bitch who was just dropping down to suck off one of my brothers, and spin her. Her gigantic tits are already bared, with the tank she’s wearing peeled down to rest at her waist.
“The fuck?” Truck says, lumbering his overly large arm to reach for her. Pussies will fuck or suck off any brother who wants a fuck or suck, that’s what they show up for. But I know damn well this one will get more from sucking me. Truck is short for Dump Truck, as in, he smells like one. He’s a blob on two legs. Worse than that, he’s not known for returning the favor. This bitch knows that at the very least she’ll get my fingers to get her off. It’s one of the many reasons women flock to my dick. Even if they don’t actually get my dick, they always know they’ll get theirs and it’ll be good.
“Should’ve moved faster.” I shrug. He knows between the two of us, she’s not choosing to go back to him. He also knows that it’s not smart to fight me over her because he’ll lose. Not many men like getting their asses handed to them in front of their brothers and a room full of hot pussy.
I wait him out. It doesn’t take long before he drops his stance and turns to lumber over to the pool table grumbling something under his breath about me leaving some bitches for the rest of them.
She drops to her knees, unzipping my fly, and releases my cock. Fuck yeah. Some brothers sit at the bar, some are busy getting it on with other pussies. I close my eyes and let the feeling take me over.
By the time she finishes me off, I’m relaxed but still apprehensive about tomorrow. I just don’t have it in me to fuck her proper. She gets my fingers. The moment I touch her, I know it won’t take long to get her off. Once she comes apart on my hand, I kiss her forehead and gently push her off to go shower.
I leave her panting and whining for my dick, but she’ll just have to get a bang from one of the other brothers.
After my shower, I pull on a pair of boxers and slip into bed, my arms folded behind my head resting on the pillow. The air conditioner hums. It’s soothing. For some reason, my mind drifts to the Lords and their women. They used to party as hard as the Horde; now they’re all whipped. Part of me wonders if they aren’t onto something. Duke used to be the grumpiest asshole I ever met. Now, unless someone’s threatening his woman or kids, he’s always smiling.
Shit. Is that what happens when you hit thirty? You start thinking those kinds of thoughts? I scrub my hands down my face to rid myself of that fucking ridiculousness and let myself drift off to sleep.
I’m the first to leave the next morning. We stagger our exits so as not to raise any questions from any of the brothers hanging around. There’s a little diner up the road from the lumber store. That’s where I head to pass the time before the other men begin to arrive. Not something I’m used to doing, I slip off my cut and stash it inside my saddle bag before walking inside. This is Lords’ territory, after all, and as they’ve cleaned up the club, the people of Thornbriar have taken a real shine to those bastards. It probably has more to do with their women. Smart, sassy, fun. Caitlin is a doctor with a practice here in town. Frankie is the director of a popular daycare center. These women have really ingratiated themselves into the town.
My server, a young punk, typical college frat-boy type, lays a menu down in front of me. I order a coffee with cream and an ice water, then he leaves. To my surprise, only a couple minutes pass before Reaper walks in. The sonofabitch must have had the same idea as me. Smart brother. He’s not wearing his cut, either. I wave him down.
Reaper’s eyebrows shoot up before he laughs, shaking his head, and makes his way over to my table. “Brother,” he says.
“Have a seat,” I offer. After he slides in across from me, I skip any further pleasantries. “Get what you needed yesterday?”
“Mostly. A couple are still walking that line. I’ll assume they’re siding with the opposition until I’m convinced otherwise.”
“Good call.” I pause because the server comes back with my coffee, takes my food order and takes both for Reaper. “It’s not gonna be easy.” I rub my hand over my face.
“Nothing worthwhile ever is.”
Since I don’t think either of us wants indigestion, we change the topic once our food arrives. He tells me about the giant melon tits on the pussy he fucked last night. We both know it’s ridiculous considering what we’re about to face, but a good distraction can go a long way in raising the spirits of men going to war—and make no mistake, we’re going to war.
We finish off our breakfasts and throw our money down on the table before heading out to meet the rest of the brothers.
There’s this dirt path next to the lumber store that Reap and I follow along the side wall to reach the property behind it, only to find Cutter waiting for us. By 11:45, the rest of the men show up, parking their bikes, and we pile inside the old, white van Duke left for us. As I’m the one most comfortable with the Lords and it’s my face they’re most aware of, I drive us through the town of Thornbriar—they have a Whippy Dip. Bentley used to have one years ago, but it long since went out of business after the old man who owned it kicked off. The giant soft serve swirl building is more of an eyesore than anything else now.
We stop at the last light on the outskirts of town and hang a sharp left, heading up the mountain to the compound. Middle of summer, we have to keep sharp eyes out for deer and packs of wild dogs jumping out in front of us.
It’s only a ten-minute drive from the base of the mountain until we find ourselves parked at the gate to the Lords’ compound, waiting for the prospect to open it for us. The kid looks skeptical. I think someone forgot to let him know to expect us.
Pulling my phone from my front pocket, I dial Duke. “Your boy’s refusing to let us in. Forget something?”
“Damn—yeah. Gimme a second.” Then he hangs up and the kid pulls a phone from his pocket. After an eternity that’s really only amounts to a few seconds, he unlatches the lock to roll the gate open.
I tip my chin up at the kid as we pass through and roll up to park in front of the compound. We’re met by Duke, Blood, and Scotch, the Lords brothers I’ve grown closest to because of their women.
I clap Duke on the back as h
e pulls me in for a half-hug. “Good to see ya, man,” he says.
Half-turning, I gesture to the brothers behind me. “Duke, Blood, Scotch, this is Sarge, Dark, Reaper, Cutter, and Roughneck.” I make sure that gesture includes pointing each man out individually and in return, each man tips up his chin in a silent biker hello.
“C’mon inside. We’ll take the meeting in the rally room. Any of y’all thirsty?”
“I could so fucking use a nice cold brew,” Cutter says, breaking the ice as we follow the Lords inside.
“Mark this day on your calendar,” I mutter to Sarge, but apparently not quiet enough to not be overheard by others. Duke snickers.
“Ya thinkin’ it might be cold in hell this mornin’?” he asks.
“Exactly.”
We get a whole lot of side-eye and even straight-on glares from the Lords brothers untrusting of a group of Horde wandering into their midst, though no one makes the approach until we stop at the bar. The prospect behind it slinging drinks is the one to approach us.
“Beers for our guests,” Duke orders. The kid smiles, nodding at his president, then gets down to the job of pulling the frosty bottles from the cooler behind him, uncapping each one before sliding it off to a brother.
I tip my beer to the men and take a long pull, giving myself one moment to enjoy the thirst-quenching chill, and then turn back to Duke. “Let’s do this.”
“Sure.” He nods, stepping around the back of the bar to lead us toward one of the rooms behind it.
Their setup is different than ours. The room he leads us to has a table to seat six, but they’ve brought in extra seating for us.
My Horde brothers and I take the seats offered as we wait for the rest of Duke’s lieutenants to join us. Once everyone’s situated, I let Sarge take the lead because rather than getting laid like the rest of us, Sarge spent his evening drawing out detailed schematics of the drug house property and where each of the cameras we’d spied are located.
“We’ve spent the last few days digging for intel,” he says to the room. “So far, we’ve been able to discern which brothers will or won’t be with us—though there’re a few still on the fence.”
Devil's Advocate: Vlad (The Bedlam Horde MC Book 1) Page 3
