Their Lasting Claim: A Death Lords MC Romance (The Motorcycle Clubs Book 13)

by Goode, Ella

Judge leans forward, “Why don’t we have Chief Schmidt there too. It’ll give the boys an airtight alibi.”

  “How’s that supposed to work?” Easy asks in disbelief.

  “He’d love to clean your clocks due to you beating him and rendering his arm useless. He can’t patrol anymore and is limited to desk duty. The only reason he stays on is because of that disability thingy. So he takes a bunch of money at the table and feels like he pulled one over on us.”

  “How are we supposed to be playing cards with him and offing the good pastor?”

  “We’ll have Abel sit in for you. You two are about the same height and same coloring. With enough smoke and a little peyote piped into the room, Schmidt will swear you were there. He’s not going to admit to being so high that he can’t remember you. It’s bad enough he’s sitting down at the poker table with a bunch of Death Lords. Schmidt will have to say that you were here all night long. With Schmidt and the mayor vouching for you, there’s no way that anyone can pin the death on you two.”

  “I want to beat on that man for at least ten hours,” Easy growls.

  “You don’t get everything. You want him dead and you don’t want to go to prison, then we have to work it this way.”

  “Fuck. What do you think?” Easy asks me.

  “If this is our best option, it’s our best option.” We get to kill Bloom and keep our cuts so for me, it was all good.

  “You can do whatever you want to him at the gravel pit. Just make it fast and get back here.”

  “Let’s do him in the church,” I say.

  “Why the church?”

  “Because it’s closer and because it’s the place he defiled with his own evil. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust and all that shit.”

  “Fine. Church it is. Make it easier for you to do him and get back.”

  Easy rubs his hands together. “So we gonna vote on this?”

  “Anyone got a problem with our enforcers taking care of Pastor Bloom?”

  No one raises their hands.

  “All right, moving on to the fun shit. Abel’s been a prospect for eighteen months and I think it’s time we vote on patching him in. We want any discussion?”

  “I thought the fun shit was pussy and tequila?” Mech shouts from his end of the table.

  Bang Bang reaches up and slaps him across the head. The vote passes easily as we all knew it would. If there was serious opposition to Abel’s patching in, there would be no vote. He’d just be an eternal prospect until he got tired of being shit on and left town.

  “Welcome, brother,” I say, pounding him hard on the back. He’d be sore there tomorrow after all the congratulations were doled out.

  Abel grinned but before he could respond Mech muscled his way between us and grabbed Abel. Dragging him out of the chapel, he shouts, “Which one of you ladies is going to be the first to welcome our newest patch?”

  There’s a virtual stampede of sweet butts that close in on Abel and pretty soon he’s drowning in pussy and tequila.

  A year ago, I’d have been right there in the midst of those tits, legs and ass. Now?

  “Want to go home?” I say to Easy.

  “Thought you’d never ask,” is his swift response.

  Chapter Nine

  Easy

  Judge shuffles the cards as I watch the clock. The plan was that we would take the first two hands to spice up the table and the rest of the night Heinz would rake it in—kind of a double payment. He got to discharge a marker and got cash money in the pocket. Michigan and I agreed to cover this to the tune of three grand.

  Worth it.

  Would have paid twice that amount.

  Schmidt took that bait easily. Rhiann Clark, a sweet butt, delivered the invitation by dropping a hint to her girlfriend and roommate who is a dispatcher at the police department. Schmidt went to Mayor Heinz who admitted, reluctantly, that he was sitting down to play some high stakes poker with a few Death Lords including Judge. When Schmidt asked to buy in, Heinz agreed and had to promise it would be a surprise.

  We all tried to look suitably shocked and angry when Schmidt came in. Judge went for his knife and Abel and Michigan had to hold him back while Schmidt looked on with a smug face. We finally sat down and started playing.

  Heinz is in a good mood, likely because he hated the idea that I had something over him. It wasn't as big of a marker as Judge and the others made it out to be. Heinz had an unfortunate attachment to coke and strippers which I’d cleaned up for him. At some point he’s going to screw up again.

  My eyes flick over to Abel’s. He’s a good patch and will make the Death Lords stronger. Last night he got the good of the club—the easy pussy and the free liquor. Tonight he’d learn what it’s like to be a true brother. We watch each other’s backs.

  Judge deals the fourth hand. Two cards down, two cards face up. Heinz is the first to bet and leads off with a modest one.

  “Don’t be so shy,” I joke. “We know the city pays you a fortune.”

  Everyone laughs because the mayor’s position doesn’t pay shit which is why he’s still the owner of the local hardware store. I toss in a few more bills to sweeten the pot. The last card Judge throws is the Suicide King. My signal to leave.

  The Suicide King is the King of Hearts. He holds the broadsword behind his head in a way that looks as if he's going to cut his own head off. It also means a nice payoff for Heinz.

  I jerk my head at Abel. “Come play my hand for me, I gotta take a piss.”

  “Sure thing.” He slides into the chair I vacate.

  “Don’t lose it all on one bet.”

  “I’ll try to lose it over two or three hands,” he jokes.

  Schmidt’s staring intently at his cards and doesn’t even look up.

  Michigan follows me as I leave. We take the truck over to Wheels Up and then separate, walking toward the church which is two blocks off Main Street. A few other Death Lords roar through town making an unholy racket with their bikes. This starts off a sound of horns as the teenagers who are taking one last ride on the loop before they have to go in for the night try to out-hoot the bikers. It serves as a minor distraction.

  I go inside while Michigan heads to the cellar. He's never been in the house but I had dinner here once so if there are prints and DNA and shit, I have plausible excuses why I show up. We bring rope and duct tape. The rest of the stuff will come from Bloom's kitchen. By the time we arrive at the rectory it’s about half past ten. Most of the lights are off and we hear the faint honking and throttle of engines from Main Street. The bell tower and the exterior church lights are on but everything else is dark.

  I jiggle the backdoor slider loose and enter soundlessly. I haven’t done a B&E in forever but some skills you just don’t lose.

  The house is silent. I find the necessary items in the first two kitchen drawers and lay those things on the table. I do a quick check of the front room and make sure the door is locked. We don’t need anyone busting in while we’re busy. I walk softly with one foot behind the other like a fox, testing each board to make sure that there are no sounds. At the top of the stairs are three doors and the light under the left one is the only clue I need. After I lay down the big black trash bag, I pull my sleeve over my hand and turn the knob. Pastor Bloom is lying on his bed, his hand on his withered dick watching lesbian porn. How predictable.

  “Sorry to interrupt your ‘me’ time, but we’ve got some old business to address,” I say cheerfully. I walk over to the bed and pick up the remote he’s fumbling for in the covers. Sitting down on the side of the bed, I scroll through his download history. “You know this shit is free on the Internet.”

  “Get out of here,” he bellows. “This is breaking and entering. It’s illegal.”

  “Are you even supposed to be watching porn? You’d think that would be a violation of your bail or something. They don’t have porn in prison. At least not this kind.” I wipe the remote off and throw it to him.

  He grabs for his cell phone but I b
eat him to it. I pop out the SIM card and stuff it in my pocket. Might come in handy later. Never know.

  “Get up,” I order. “The Lord is judging you today.”

  “Don’t use his name in vain,” he spits at me.

  “That’s rich coming from you, Pastor Bloom. Now seriously, get your fat ass off the bed and downstairs.”

  His eyes dart around and settle on the closet. He must have a firearm in there. Pastor Bloom is not a small man. He’s about my size, but I’m at least twenty years younger and I work out every day. He lunges for the closet but an easy extended leg has him falling facedown.

  I grab the back of his head and slam it back into the floor. Blood spurts out from his broken nose.

  “Shit. Michigan’s going to be mad I started without him. Best if we go downstairs now.”

  “Fuck you!” Pastor Bloom curses and tries to roll over but I’ve got my foot on his neck.

  “My dance card’s all full but thanks for offering.”

  I give his head another good slam and then drag him onto the black trash bag for easy transportation. He thrashes a bit on the plastic but that just makes his trip a little more bumpy. When we’re on the first floor, I haul him to his feet. He’s dazed and it makes it easy for me to push him out of the sliding glass doors and then down into the cellar. He trips down the four steps, unable to catch himself because there are no railings, and he tumbles to the ground face first onto the compacted dirt floor.

  Michigan steps out of the way to avoid getting struck by the falling body.

  “You will never get away with this,” Pastor Bloom gasps as we pick him up by his two arms and drag him over to the table. It’s a table similar to the one we’d found Annie on. After we rescued her we learned that it was one of the folding tables that the church used for potluck and bingo games. “I did this for Annie’s own good so that she could receive forgiveness for her sins and seek the Lord’s love.”

  “I don't know about you, Michigan, but his mouth is getting on my nerves.”

  Michigan reaches down and pulls the strip of already torn duct tape off the table and slaps it across Bloom’s mouth as I hold his head firmly in my hands. He wriggles around, thrashing on the table like a beached fish.

  “You should be grateful that we’re in a time crunch here because if it wasn’t for having to get back to our poker game, we’d have spent more time on you.”

  He shouts something back at us which is probably you’re going to hell or you’re damned.

  I hand Michigan the butcher knife from the kitchen and he runs a finger over the blade. “Not very sharp.”

  “Nope, it’ll hurt a bit.”

  He glares at us and struggles more, the table rocking back and forth under his weight. We roll him over so he’s belly down, just like Annie was. We affix one hand to a leg of the table and then the other and then repeat the action with his ankles.

  Michigan slides Pastor Bloom’s belt off. “When I came and found Annie there was barely a patch of her skin that was untouched by your love. It was just strips of skin and blood and muscle. What’s the Bible say? Ask and you shall receive, pressed down, shaken together and overflowing?” He leans closer to whisper in Bloom’s ear. “You asked for us to come to you when you brought the belt to Annie’s skin. And we’re going to give it back to you a thousandfold. I’m only sorry we can’t draw it out longer.”

  He raises the belt and brings it down. It makes a satisfying thunk when the leather strikes skin. Michigan lashes him ten more times and then it’s my turn. I use the kitchen knife instead. I make shallow cuts all over his legs, arms and back.

  The police will want to pin this on us. No burglar comes in and tortures the inhabitants, but our alibi will be rock solid and when the news comes out everyone will know that to touch our woman means a slow and painful death.

  We cut the tape off and set him upright in one of his kitchen chairs. Michigan douses the table with bleach to be on the safe side.

  Pastor Bloom’s head is listing to the side. I toss a little water in his face. Passed out means he can’t feel the pain and then where’s the retribution?

  “Bloom, you still with us?”

  “F-f-fuck you,” he slurs out.

  I ‘tsk’ my tongue. “Such blasphemy, and right before you go and meet your maker.”

  Michigan squats down and tilts Bloom’s head up with a knife. “What were you planning to do with Annie down here after you beat her? Rape her? Really show her who had power?”

  “She needed to contemplate her relationship with the Lord and seek his forgiveness.”

  “And that couldn’t be done without you beating her within an inch of her life?” His voice is dangerously low, dangerously quiet, but Pastor Bloom doesn’t see the warning signs.

  “I’d rather have her dead than see her fornicate with the two of you.”

  “You’re going to get your wish about one thing. You won’t see her fornicating with us.” He sticks the knife in Bloom’s belly and drags it across. Bloom falls forward, clutching his gut wound. With a cut that deep, he should bleed out in under ten minutes.

  I check my watch. “We should be getting back.”

  We haul Bloom back to the kitchen and tie him to a chair. The back door is kicked in and we take our time smashing shit so it looks like a good break-in. Later tonight Abel and Mech will take the table and put it back in the church.

  After we are done, we hightail it back to the Heinz’ garage where the poker game is still in full swing. The back room is so hazy you could cut the air with a knife.

  “Took you long enough,” Judge says as I slide into my chair.

  “Had to go number two.”

  Chapter Ten

  Annie

  The men come home with wet hair and faces scrubbed clean. Mom raises her eyebrows at me.

  “Looks like your men had a good time tonight. It was one of your special clubhouse nights, wasn’t it?”

  But what happened tonight has nothing to do with women. I can see it in their eyes. They both look worried but determined.

  “I’m tired,” I say. “Let’s go to bed.”

  “You’re a fool, Annie,” Mom interrupts. “These two are cheating on you before your very nose.”

  Michigan’s hands fist into tight balls. I don’t look away from my men. They’d cut off their dicks before they’d stray from me.

  “You need to leave,” I tell her.

  “What?”

  “You should pack up and leave. I don’t want you here. I don’t want Father’s money and most of all, I don’t want you to have it. Just go.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.” She stomps her foot.

  I finally shift toward her and the men stand at my back. They are two strong towers, but they need me right now. “No one wants you here. Not my men and not me.”

  She opens her mouth but I don’t let her get another poisonous word out. “You have five minutes or we’re throwing your stuff on the lawn.”

  Mom huffs and puffs for a few moments but faced with the three of us, she has no choice but to go into her bedroom and pack up. This time Easy just watches as she struggles with one and then the other suitcase.

  “You are making a big mistake,” she says. “These two are using you.”

  “For what?” I’m bewildered. “They could get sex from anyone. They have jobs and friends and family. They don’t need me.”

  “Not true.” Michigan growls. “I need you all the fucking time.”

  “Same,” Easy says.

  “Okay, but you don’t need need me. You’re fine without me.”

  “Not fine.” Michigan shakes his head.

  “Agreed. Would not be fucking fine at all,” Easy adds.

  I throw up my hands. “You’re using me then for all your needs and wants, but hell, I’m using you back.”

  “Hope so.” Easy leans down and kisses me. Even Michigan has a slight smile on his face. It’s kind of a ridiculous conversation.

  “You three are dis
gusting,” Mom hisses but for some reason her insults make me laugh. Maybe it’s because she’s so obviously jealous.

  “Then you should leave because you aren’t wanted here. And I’m not helping you get a penny of that money. I’d rather it rot in the bank than allow you to have a cent.”

  She curls her lip. “I don’t regret leaving you and your father, not even for a minute.”

  The barb hurts but it doesn’t dig as deep as it could have. Behind me are my men, the ones who’ll do anything for me. My mother left me; my father wanted me dead but the two men who warm my bed at night and watch over me during the day are worth all that stuff in the past.

  “I don’t regret it either,” I say honestly. “Who knows what kind of person I would have turned into if I was exposed to your poison on a daily basis? Please leave now.”

  Easy strides over and throws the door open. She huffs like the witch she is but finally leaves. We don’t even watch her after the door is closed on her butt.

  Instead, Michigan and Easy follow me down the hall and when we’re inside the safety of our bedroom, I turn to face them. “Do I want to know what went down tonight?”

  Michigan folds his arms and looks mulish, like a child who’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t have.

  Easy, on the other hand, sits down on the edge of the bed and starts unlacing his boots. “We aren’t a bunch of Boy Scouts. Our patches aren’t earned based on how many old ladies we help across the street or how many different knots we can tie.”

  “I know that,” I say quietly.

  “It had to happen,” he says.

  Behind him Michigan makes a low pained sound. His hands are fisted at his side and when I lift my eyes to meet his, I stumble back under the near physical blow the anguish in his expression delivers. He is so certain I’m going to reject him, and yet he carried out his actions regardless, believing in the rightness of his deeds.

  I didn't grow up alone like Michigan and I didn’t have a big family like Easy. I’m not a member of any club. But I understand that these men would not sleep at night if they believed something existed out there that could pose a danger to me.