Savage Angels: A Savage MC Erotic Romance

by Alice May Ball

  That evening, the atmosphere in the clubhouse was subdued. In part that may have been because the only available girl in the place was Angelica. She had a look on her face that left no room for doubt; anyone came near her, she’d break off their thumbs or worse. Her sister Inez was nowhere to be seen, nor was Gypsy. Cox and most of the Savage MC were absent elsewhere, too.

  Only Bogart and Hacker perched at the bar with Rusty passing them shots. A call came on Hacker’s cellphone and he stepped outside to take it.

  Came back in after a few minutes and said to Bogart, “That was Jake. The Muertos want to talk.”

  Bogart didn’t look up from his shot glass. “Shame they didn’t have anything to say yesterday. Could have saved a lot of mayhem.”

  Hacker got a beer from Rusty, took a sip and sat alongside Bogart, “He said that Butcher shot three of his men.”

  Bogart said, “Mm.” Without any obvious interest.

  Hacker told him, “He shot them with a grenade launcher, Bogart.”

  “Mm.” Bogart said again. “His manners are pretty challenging.”

  Hacker began, “At least having him around has quietened the...” but Bogart held up a hand. He knew that Hacker was going to say ‘Vikings,’ and he didn’t want the slightest risk of one of the Vikings hearing it or hearing about it. A war inside the clubhouse as well as the one outside would have been way over the line.

  Everyone was uncomfortable at leaving the enforcing in Butcher’s hands, but the vote was unanimous, and they were going to follow Bogart’s plan. All the way to its end.

  Twenty minutes later, they heard the truck engine climb the slope outside and Butcher returned. He stomped up to the clubhouse and across the barroom floor, and he looked at Bogart on the way. Bogart looked over the tops of his shades at the big man.

  Butcher reached around the bar and took a fresh bottle of Jack, then climbed the stairs to his room. Angelica looked at Bogart. Drew a breath and her face tensed momentarily. Then she picked up a clutch bag and went upstairs, chewing the inside of her cheek.

  Much later, in the dead of night, Bogart was still in the clubhouse, sat at a table with an almost empty bourbon bottle at his elbow. Rusty was with him at the table. A few other bikers slept on couches or in the softer, fraying chairs.

  Butcher came down the stairs heavily, one of his backpacks over his shoulder. He passed Bogart a look on his way out to the truck. The engine coughed into life, and then faded as Butcher drove away down the hill. Bogart checked his watch.

  About ten minutes later Angelica came down the stairs. Looked around the clubroom. Saw Bogart was awake and asked him, “You know where Beanie is, American?”

  Slip Kid

  From inside the car I made a call on my cellphone. As soon as I got an answer I said, “Hi, it’s me. Listen, don’t say anything, don’t speak, okay? I need you to meet me, right away. You know that place we’ve been, at the edge of town? Don’t say anything, just make a sound to tell me that you know where I mean.” a grunt came from the phone, “Can you meet me there in forty-five minutes, it’s really important, okay? Will you do it?” Another grunt. I hung up.

  The dark sedan stayed way behind me as I made my way across town. I parked right by the metal entrance door of the neat little diner. There was almost no-one there at that time in the afternoon. I took a booth in the window, ordered coffee and I waited.

  Sure enough, as I nursed my coffee, I watched as the dark sedan pulled slowly into the far side of the parking lot, and it was soon joined by another car just like it. From that distance, I could just make out a red bob of hair.

  Daddy showed up, out of uniform and in his private car. When he slid into the booth opposite me he said, “So, what’s this all about, baby doll? What’s with all the cloak and dagger and the, ‘don’t say anything.’?” I was about to tell him when the dragon lady from the FBI slammed her hand on the side of the table and pushed her badge in Daddy’s face.

  Tall and wiry in her charcoal pant suit, a white shirt open way too far, she seemed thrilled breathless by her mantra, “Special agent Heaver, FBI. Put your hands on the table where I can see them.” She leaned over the table at him and Daddy gave her a long dry look as he laid his palms on the table top. “Show me some ID, and tell me the purpose of your meeting here.” I knew Daddy would have great timing, but I couldn’t wait. I said,

  “Oh, haven’t you been introduced to my daddy? You would probably know him as police chief Ballmer.”

  Daddy said, “Have you been harassing my little girl, Heaver? Because if you have, there’s a report going straight up the line to my old army buddy, Section Chief Fullerton.”

  Heaver’s green eyes widened and her face twitched as Daddy went on, “Tell me, is Sam Fullerton your boss’s boss or is he your boss’s boss’s boss? The case will be of particular interest to him, since he is Nicoletta’s godfather.”

  Agent Heaver sagged as Daddy said, “Now, would you like some coffee while you tell us what it was that you wanted to know?” Heaver mumbled and flustered as she backed away from the table and almost ran out of the diner.

  Daddy and I both waved through the diner window as she stomped all the way across the parking lot.

  Down in the Hole

  Bogart took the call from Jake. Hacker got up to leave him in privacy, but Bogart waved him to stay.

  Into the phone, Bogart said, “Yeah, Jake... Well, what can I tell you. You fucked up the deal. I gave you a chance to make it right, you didn’t do it. Yup... No, Jake, you have to get me what I need. Then I’ll call it off.”

  There was a pause, “How do you get out with it? Jake, that isn’t my problem. This is your fault, not mine. Yup... uh–huh... Yeah, you get me what I need, it stops right away.” Another pause. “Yeah, he’s a real vicious bastard, ain’t he?” and Bogart hung up.

  He said to Hacker. “He’s got it. Says he can’t get here with it unless we call Butcher off.”

  Hacker said, “Shame.”

  Bogart said, “Really.”

  Half a spliff later, Bogart’s phone rang again. He picked it up and listened a moment and said, “Uh–huh. Good,” and he hung up again. Bogart looked at Hacker, “Seems he thought of a way.”

  Hacker said, “Like he just remembered where he had fifty K stashed.”

  Bogart said, “Mmm–hm.” They both took a sip of bourbon.

  Ten minutes later, Bogart went out back and collected a large, heavy backpack. He told Hacker, “Jake shows, check what he brings. Double count it, then call me.”

  Bogart and Hacker gripped hands and bro-hugged. As Bogart was turning, Hacker put a hand on his shoulder and said, “Stay safe,” Bogart went out and climbed onto his bike. The engine crackled into life and carried him away down the hill.

  Bad Company

  I waited in the sad little motel room, sat on the bed by the bathroom with the TV on loud. Why Snori and Trols would have believed me, I couldn’t think, but it seemed as though they did.

  Beanie told them to come and that I would be there, ready and waiting for them. I couldn’t have told it to them myself. I didn’t know if I could go through with any of this, either. I didn’t know if I could, but I knew that I had to and I knew that I would.

  And I knew that if Cox ever found out, he would probably kill me.

  The knock came at the door and my heart dropped. I said, “It’s open,” and Snori and Trols walked in, grinning as they saw me, sat on the bed. They came and loomed over me, taking up all the air in the room and standing between me and the big, flimsy closet. The closet that Beanie came out of with a gun in each hand.

  He put the guns to the backs of both of their heads and said, “Kneel.”

  I produced the nine millimeter and told them, “Hands high.” As they knelt I could see the guns in Beanie’s hands both shaking.

  That was the plan, for Beanie to come out behind them from the closet. The only reason that I had a gun at all was that I was too scared to do it without one. Daddy had taught me since
I was little how to handle guns. I was a biblical slayer of beer bottles and tin cans.

  Silhouette targets didn’t have a prayer around me, but I never pointed a weapon at anything with a pulse before, much less fired one.

  And it wasn’t the plan now. The plan now was to confront them, to find out the truth about Cap and take appropriate action. Beanie and I had discussed how that would be.

  The two men knelt and Beanie’s voice trembled as he said, “Turn to Jesus, motherfuckers, do it now. Cause no-one else is going to give a fuck about you.”

  Snori said, “Did I hear that before somewhere?”

  Beanie told him, “Probably when your mama called.”

  Trols moved fast to grab that awful blade, but kneeling down, he couldn’t pull it out in time. By reflex alone I’d squeezed on the trigger and fired into the middle of his forehead, and moved the gun onto Snori. He was turning and had his hand on a revolver, so I let another shot out into his temple.

  It was over before I even knew it was happening and as soon as the second shot was out of the gun, I had to run for the bathroom. The world went white and spun horribly, and I sank to my knees, missing the john and blasting the oatmeal walls with vomit.

  In the far distance, like through a fog I heard the muffled ‘pop’s of the two more shots. Then Beanie came and put an arm around me. “It’s okay.” He told me, “You did good.”

  He got me a wet cloth and a glass of water, but we both knew we couldn’t waste any time. We’d squared the manager and he swore there were no guests in the rooms, but we needed to be gone and fast.

  I looked at the heaps of sticky mess on the brown carpet. “Doesn’t look like Butcher’s work, Beanie.”

  “Don’t worry, Nikka, it will. You just get out of here.”

  As I made for the door, he said, “Don’t take Butcher’s gun, Nikka. Leave it on the bed.”

  I’d forgotten that it was in my hand.

  Hurt

  Jake leaned his Harley up outside Hell’s Kitchen Bar & Grill. He came into the clubroom in a hurry. Only Cox was there, and Rusty at the bar. Cox didn’t get up. Jake said, “Here it is, man, now come on and let’s make this right.”

  Cox told Rusty to give Jake whatever he wanted. “I don’t want anything. I just want you to make the call, alright?”

  Cox lifted the case. “Take a while to count, you know. We don’t use those machines like you guys do. We use a thumb, a forefinger and a pair of eyes. Get yourself a drink. Relax.”

  Cox took the money from the case, put the ten piles on the bar, got a pad and a pencil from Rusty and started to count.

  Jake shifted nervously, fidgeted and told Cox to hurry. Cox said, “Aw, man. Now I lost count,” and he started over. After that, Jake waited. He smoked, he took a couple of shots, had a beer. And he looked at his watch, many times.

  When Cox drew a line under the column of numbers on his pad, Jake said, “Come on, man I’ve brought you what you wanted, okay? Now let’s get all of this stopped.”

  Cox looked him in the eye, held his gaze there, said, slowly, “Jake, you had this cash all along. You could have stopped this any time that you wanted to, but you had to wait. Don’t ask me why, but you did.”

  Cox took his time over a sip of bourbon. “So don’t be telling me now that you’re in such a hurry. If you were in such a hurry, you could have paid us in full on delivery.”

  Then Cox put the top sheet from the pad into the case, then each of the freshly stacked piles and snapped the case shut. Then he took it out back.

  He returned after a couple of minutes. “Now. Wait while I call Bogart.” Jake was twitching.

  “It’s OK, I’ll do it right here, you can listen. Look, I’ll put it on speaker...” he dialed and set the phone to speaker. Set it on the bar between them. They listened to the brrr a few times until Bogart’s voice answered. Cox said,

  “Hi, Bogart? I got you on speaker.”

  “I know, I can tell. I hate the gurgling echo of that fucking thing.”

  “Yeah, it sucks. So, Jake’s here,”

  “Oh, hi, Jake. How’s it going? Everything okay?”

  “Yeah, everything’s lovely, Bogart. Oh, all apart from the psycho maniac who’s killing all my friends and blowing up my damn property.”

  “Ah, man, that must really suck. Still, how’s the settling of our account coming along?”

  “I gave it to Cox. He’s got it all right here.”

  “I wasn’t talking to you, Jake, I was asking Cox. So, Cox; how’s the settling of our account coming along?”

  “Yeah, Jake brought a briefcase with him. I counted what was inside it twice, and by my reckoning we’re right on the money. I’d say we’re set square here, bro.”

  “Good to hear. Shame about the delay but I guess these things happen. Good to talk to you, Jake.”

  And he hung up.

  Cox said, “A drink while you wait?”

  “Sure,” Jake said, “Maybe one of your girls would like to keep me amused, too.”

  Cox looked at Jake hard, “I hope you won’t mind me asking you this but, are you a total fucking idiot? All of our girls have run and hid because of the situation that you put us in, and so now the only girl here is Angelica. I can ask her in to see you if you like, but my bet will be on you coming off a whole lot worse than her.”

  “Just a bourbon, then.”

  Melt

  Bogart was still away when Cox got the call from Jake.

  “Man, did Bogart do that to Butcher? That was some medieval shit going down there.”

  “Should be the end of the problem for you then.”

  “Took us some time to work out it was out there. None of the pieces are too big, you know what I’m saying?”

  “Should be easy enough for you to dispose of then, Jake.”

  “We could do with some help cleaning him off our parking lot out front before someone sees it, you know? Or before the buzzards get a scent.”

  “Yeah. You made the problem, Jake, remember that. That mess out there? That’s the solution. If you don’t like it, see if you can put him back together and we’ll consider giving you your money back.”

  “Oh, maaan.”

  “You have a nice day, Jake.”

  Tallyman

  And so it was all done. Then came the reckonings.

  When I wanted those moments together, that closeness, that escape over the edge and into the void for what could be the last time, Cox took me downstairs to the clubhouse barroom.

  The bar was closed, and it was empty apart from the big table on the far side. There, Bogart and Hacker waited with Jurgen and Bent.

  Cox sat by Bogart, with an empty seat beside him. He sat me at the empty end of the table. The two Norwegians were due to leave later that day, and everybody was still reeling from the last thirty-six hours.

  Cox was shell-shocked by what had happened to Butcher. “I mean, it was the plan. Sick him on Los Muertos until they paid up. We knew that they’d try to fight it out and we thought they’d bring the fight here.”

  “Would have done,” Hacker said, “if Butcher hadn’t been such a one man army.” His head shook in admiration. “Whatever you thought of him, he was a whole military machine. Hit them so hard they couldn’t get up. Hit them again before they’d time to regroup.”

  “Right.” Said Cox, “And that was the plan. Butcher visits mayhem on Los Muertos until they can’t take it any more, then we visit mayhem on Butcher and leave him on Los Muertos’ front yard.”

  “So that they learned what we were prepared to do,” Hacker said, “how far we would be ready to go,”

  Bogart must have had even more feeling about Butcher. Not only because the grim work had been his own task, but they went a long way back. They rode together for a long time and through hard days. He was quiet a while.

  After a breath, Bogart said, “And now,” he lifted his gaze up from the table, “Now that we freed them from Butcher’s murderous assaults, now they are grateful to us.
Savage MC are the peacemakers, the givers of justice. And they won’t cross us again.”

  Jurgen said, “Honestly, Bogart, I maybe shouldn’t say this to you alright, but I like to call things the way that I see them.”

  “Go on,”

  “I’ve been very impressed by the way that Savage MC has handled all of this.” Jurgen looked around the table. This conversation shouldn’t have been happening with me there, none of it, but it had just started up.

  The events of the last couple of days had shaken everyone pretty hard, and there was a real need to talk. Still, I was surprised nobody moved to take the discussion into the council room, or to ask me to leave that table.

  Jurgen said, “The thing with using Butcher, I mean that’s grim and very solemn work, but I got to say that you made a good call. The guy had your money all along, and he was fucking with you, and Butcher had been a problem for you, too. But then, Bogart, after you left Butcher all in pieces, you’re a hero for Los Muertos. The Savage MC is their savior and at the same time they’re going to stay respectful. That was some maneuver.”

  “Needs must, brother, when the Devil drives.”

  “Snori and Trols, they were always a problem to control. Even for us they took everything too far.” I felt Cox’s eyes on me then and my breath stuck in my throat.

  Hacker said, “That’s saying something, Jurgen.”

  “Ja. Well, the reason we brought them on this run was that we were too afraid what they might do back home without us watching over them.” He took a slug of bourbon, shook his head, “We were always clearing up a mess after them.”

  Bent said, “What we’re saying is that you guys kind of solved a problem for us,” he looked across at me, “I mean Butcher solved a problem, right?” Everyone was looking at me then. Jurgen and Bent, Bogart and Hacker. Cox’s eyes were still hard on mine. I wondered where Beanie was.