“Hey, what the hell?” Scratch yelps in surprise.
Striding toward them, I grumble, “Most of you candy-ass motherfuckers like to run when I approach them.”
“What’s this about? I’m cool, remember?” he pacifies, causing Saint to laugh.
Saint loves when they beg and plead. He’ll torture a fucker for days just to see how long they’d cry for their life. That’s where Sinner comes in, cleaning up the mess and putting the miserable to rest. He’s always alongside Saint, ready to help keep a sense of balance.
“I heard you talking about my Ol’ Lady.”
“No way; I was talkin’ about a chick I met at a party. I wouldn’t be talking about your Ol’ Lady.”
At my glower, Saint snickers, squeezing the Prospect’s arms until he yelps and faces him.
“Fuck! What’s your problem now?” he asks angrily.
Saint smiles brightly, confusing Scratch, then drives his forehead into the man’s nose when he’s least expecting it. Blood showers them both as Scratch cries out in pain, feeding into exactly what Saint wants.
“You don’t speak unless spoken too, Prospect,” Saint orders and I take a few steps closer, ready to take what’s owed, unsnapping my large blade as I approach.
“No one speaks about Princess like that. You think her cunt tastes good? It’ll be the last one you ever taste, so savor that shit. I won’t walk around knowing some motherfucker has touched my bitch and fuckin’ lived,” I growl, leaning down close to his face, showing him who the real alpha is.
Sweat draws on his brow as he swallows, thinking of something to placate me, “Sh-she wasn’t yours. I wouldn’t do that.”
“No,” I respond quietly with a brief chuckle, “that’s where you’re wrong, Prospect. She’s always been mine.” I finish and watch the shock hit his face as I drive my hunting blade deep into his kidney. The fucker was too stupid to pay attention and try to get away. Not that he could’ve, but it would’ve been more entertaining for us anyhow.
Saint tosses the wounded man onto the ground, watching as he falls on his back, crying out in discomfort. Once he starts apologizing and trying to bargain with us, Saint lowers to his knees above Scratches head.
Giving him the nod, I unstrap my hatchet and sheath my blade. Saint’s hands fly to Scratch’s skull, securing it so he can’t squirm away and cause me to miss. Planting my heavy, size fourteen boot on Scratch’s chest, I brace him to the ground with my weight.
“Ready?” I ask Saint, and he cackles maniacally, excited at what’s about to happen. We’ve gotten into some shit together a few times and each one he’s been the same way. Torture and killing bring me satisfaction if anything, but it fills my brother with energy and happiness. I can only imagine what kind of life he had to shape him as he is. Mine was fucked up, but I have a feeling his was like nothing I’d ever imagine.
“Do it, Vike!”
Bending my left knee as much as I can behind me, I position myself as low as possible in the perfect spot over the Prospect and grip my ax with both hands. It’s much harder than one would expect, driving the blade through flesh and tendons, and fuck, there’s so much blood. Not to mention my height making it harder to decapitate someone when they’re flat on the ground as well.
Glancing at the man’s terrified eyes one last time as they fill with tears, I say my piece, “I’ve already killed for her once motherfucker; you’re just another one under my belt. I’ll be goddamned if anyone disrespects my woman like that and lives. I may not have been her first, but best fucking believe, I’ll be her last.”
At that, I swing the ax aiming directly for his throat. The first hit makes a decent implant, but not completely sufficient. It’s with the second swing that his blood splatters enough to hit my boot resting on his chest.
Saint laughs with each chop, getting covered in blood and loving every minute of it. Eventually, I have to get on my knees to get close enough so I can finish sawing through the last remaining fleshy pieces. The small stuff is always the hardest to get severed.
“Saint, you need to get cleaned up, you’re a mess. Call Spidey to help you dump the body.”
His gaze meets mine, his brow furrowed. “Why aren’t you dumping it?”
“I need to pay someone a visit.”
“Okay then,” he answers, pulling his phone from his pocket as I grab the short hair on the Prospect’s skull. He has just enough for me to grip it; hopefully, I don’t drop it.
Saint climbs to his feet, swiping his tongue against a few drops of blood on his wrist and follows me around the side of the bar. He watches as I mount my bike, still holding the bloody head in one hand. I’ve ridden having to hold onto shit before, so it’s not that difficult being that I’m a seasoned rider.
The engine comes to life, loudly announcing our presence and within seconds, I head toward the Oath Keepers MC Compound. I have something that belongs to them, and it’s time they know that I’m not fucking around.
Neither the kill nor the quick ride to the clubhouse does anything to cool down my temper. Normally a long ride will do me wonders, giving me enough time to clear my head out and come down from when I rage. If I were smart, I’d hit the road straightaway after my pit stop, but I know I won’t. I’ve had one thing on my mind nonstop, and I plan to have her as soon as possible.
The Prospect that’s posted at the gate sits up suddenly when I come into sights. He takes one look at my extended arm, still tightly gripping onto the head and stays clear, so I can ride through without any issues. Smart move on his part. I wouldn’t kill him if he tried to stop me, but he’d damn sure learn.
Having worked with this club in the past, I know the kid’s calling up the Prez or VP right now to announce my arrival. It’s exactly what I want him to do, get either of them to come outside. I plan to throw this motherfucker’s head at the pussy-ass VP’s feet then let the Prez know his daughter belongs to me. I did this club a favor, taking out their biggest threat not even weeks ago, and it’s time they show me that they’re grateful.
Easing off the gas, I slow down some more, eventually rolling to a stop not far from the main entrance. The Compound consists of a fairly large building that houses members, their chapel, kitchen, and a bar. Off to the side is their shop where they fix bikes and the occasional vehicle. The land it all sits on is surrounded by a tall electric fence and who knows what else.
It takes merely moments before the lot of them shuffle out. Ares, their VP, comes to a stop directly in my path as several of his brothers flank his sides. Cain, his Enforcer, takes the right, then Spin, the treasurer, and finally, their newly patched member, Shooter. To his left stands 2 Piece, the Road Captain and gun trader, then Twist, the unholy one covered in tattoos. He’s the fucking crazy brother I’ve heard of. I thought he was going to join the Nomads for a while, but he backed out eventually. Lastly, the President’s son himself, Snake.
I could probably kill half these motherfuckers before they got me down. Scot says we’re friendly with them, and Cain’s not bad in my book, so I offer a warning instead of bullets. I may be an Oath Keeper, but when it boils down to it, this Charter is not mine. I would support them when needed, but I ride with the Nomads. We make our own fucking laws.
Staring coldly at the VP in front of me, I release his Prospect’s head—the heavy skull more resembling a bowling ball than the lump of mush it is at this point. As it rolls across the asphalt, heated by the scorching Texas sun, it eventually stops, sticking to a particular hot spot on the pavement.
He doesn’t flinch, so my gaze expands, taking in the other members beside him. “Tell your club to stay the fuck away from my bitch. I won’t say it twice.”
Ares’ eyebrows shoot up, his nostrils flailing as he breathes heavy, attempting to reign in his temper. I’ve heard about him too. He used to be the Enforcer for the club, known as the Butcher for sawing bodies up.
That’s cute. I like to hack my kill up too. Only I drive my hatchet into their body repeatedly or sometim
es scalp them, using my favorite blade to pull their skin away, exposing the angry red flesh underneath. I’ll happily teach him how to be a real fucking butcher if he’d like.
“The fuck you do to my Prospect?” he eventually grumbles, angrily peering at the decapitated head.
“He thought he could touch my Ol’ Lady then talk about it. I didn’t agree.”
Cain’s hand flies to his forehead, massaging his temples as he mumbles a disgruntled, “Fuck.”
Ares glances over at him, “Brother?”
Cain drops his arm flashing a look at Ares, then meets my stare. “The blonde from the motel when we were there? Princess?”
Snake’s head snaps over to me at Princess’ name, and I nod.
“You sick fuck!” Snake shouts, charging at me only to be held back by a few of the men.
Ignoring him, I speak loudly. “You’ve all been warned what will happen if you touch her. Don’t even fucking look at her.” Pointing at the head stuck to the pavement to drive my point across. “Now…get me the Prez.”
Ares chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re a ballsy fucker; I’ll give you that. What do you expect’s gonna happen when you tell the Prez you’ve claimed his little girl as your Ol’ Lady and you never even asked him?”
“I don’t give two shits what’s going to happen or if he’d have given me his permission. There’s nothing to discuss; she’s a grown-ass woman. I fucked her in front of an entire bar full of people and let every goddamn one of them know that I own her. Just like I don’t give a fuck what any of you think about it.”
Snake makes a sound reminding me of a roar as the guys hold him back from charging at me again. The dramatics are interrupted when the heavy metal door leading into the clubhouse slams closed, announcing the Prez’ presence.
Snake shoots his mouth off before the older man even makes it off the four steps leading to the parking lot. “He has Princess! This dick thinks he can claim her. Tell them to let me go so I can slit his throat.”
Prez sighs deeply, striding toward us with purpose. “Brently, stick a sock in it, son. You have any idea who you’re threatening right now? You’re a Prospect, son of mine or not; you shouldn’t be speaking right now.”
Snake breaks the guys’ hold, storming off toward the shop. Probably angry his father just called him out in front of the other members.
Prez comes to a halt next to Ares. He claps him on the shoulder affectionately. “Thanks for handling this son, but let me have a talk with him.”
Ares’ brow furrows, his irises growing lighter as he relaxes and allows the Prez to take over. I can see why he was the Enforcer for so long; he’s definitely the protector who loves his club. I can’t stand him, but I do respect that bit of him. “You need me, I’m here,” he mumbles, taking a few steps away and lighting a smoke.
Watching him, Prez huffs, “Your Ol’ Lady’s gonna have your ass if she catches you out here smoking again. You want babies and don’t I remember that you agreed to stop if she’d get knocked up?” He glances at the others standing around. “Someone give him some gum before Avery chews him a new one on his health and he takes it out on the brothers.”
Rolling his eyes, Ares stomps on the cigarette, then folds his arms over his chest. If the situation weren't so serious, I’d laugh. I guess his Ol’ Lady’s a stubborn one like my Cinderella.
The older man’s kind gaze meets mine again. “Last I checked, your cut said Oath Keeper on it. You’re welcome here, so how about you get off that bike and take a walk with me?”
“I’m not the strolling type, how about you just get out what you have to say.”
“What did he do?” Prez gestures to the Prospect’s head, so I fill him in on everything, including the part where his daughter’s now my Ol’ Lady. It takes a while to explain everything and eventually, I’m off my bike, walking with him along the fence line as I talk.
Shocked is probably the most accurate word to describe him at my news. At first, he didn’t believe me, but when I described her looks, her car, where she lived, etc., he started to realize I was telling the truth.
“Out of everyone, she ends up with a biker and a Nomad at that.” He shakes his head in disbelief.
His boots suddenly become interesting as he stares down at them and thinks it all over, the Prospect no longer on his mind now that his daughter’s involved. I don’t know if the man’s happy or about to come unglued. One thing I’ve noticed is that he’s hard to read about how he feels about anything. He could probably win a grip of money if he ever decided to try his hand at playing poker.
“I would never have pictured her with someone like you,” he finally continues. “Prissy tell you that she was a good girl growing up? Went to college, stayed out of trouble. She hates me with a passion, but that’s all right; it kept her safe overall.”
“We haven’t talked about her past; it’s all happened pretty quick.”
His eyes find mine again as he smiles slightly. “It always does. It was that way for her momma, and I fuckin’ fell hard for her, and best believe she had a temper like no other.” The happiness falls from his face, his gaze growing firm. “Just don’t fuck it up. Her and I, we’ve grown so distant, I no longer have the privilege to make demands with her anymore. I lost the right to tell her who to love and be with when she gave up on me being her father. In many ways, I’d love to put a bullet through your skull, but in the end, I have to be grateful that she ended up with a member and a strong one at that.”
We walk back to the parking lot, continuing our discussion.
“She knows I’m a hard man.” It’s the best answer I can give. I know I’ll screw up sometimes, what matters is if I can fix it.
“I fucked it up with her mother—worst mistake of my life. When I tried to go back and fix it all, club threats against Princess and Brently started pouring in from my rivals. I had to let them go. It was the hardest thing I’ve done, leaving my family and letting them hate me. Tell me, you have kids, can you walk away from them and your Ol’ Lady, then not look back to keep them safe?”
Adjusting on my bike, I sit back a little and reply truthfully, “No.”
“So you’re the selfish type.”
“Hell, yes, I’m selfish. She belongs to me—they would belong to me. Best believe I would hunt down every last motherfucker with the balls to threaten my family. I’d feed them their fucking nuts as my entertainment and then take their lives as my payment.”
“I thought I could too, tried for years, out on the road looking for any of them.” He sighs. “It drove my children away from me, caused my Ol’ Lady years of heartache. At some point, you have to figure out your limit. You ever reach that, you come find me so I can help you sort things.”
No matter how sad his sob story sounds, I can’t find it in myself to feel any type of sympathy for him. I grew up with a fucked-up family. I know firsthand what that’s like, and I’d never put someone through that experience.
“That’s the difference between you and me, Prez. Princess is my limit. She’s the type of woman I’d happily kill a hundred men for. I’m not saying it’ll be an easy life for her; in fact, she’ll fucking hate me at times, but I’ll do my best every day of my life not to break her. And I’ll damn sure protect her.”
“Good. I still receive threats against my family, had one awhile back from the Twisted Snakes. Fucked my boy up pretty good and threatened my daughter next. We snuffed the fuckers out, but the danger’s always out there. The main thing is that she never knew about any of it.”
“I’ll keep her out of my business, but I won’t lie to her.”
“She knows you were comin’ here?”
“Yeah, she helped me chop his head off,” I retort, deadpan.
Chuckling, he approaches me. “Let’s keep this between us then.”
He reaches his hand out, and I shake it in return. I’m not making any promises, but it won’t be a conversation I bring up to her first thing.
“You won’t have issues
from any of my brothers or my son for that matter. I hope you’re able to bring her around with you; I’d love to finally see my daughter. This club’s her family, too, whenever she’s ready for it.”
“I’ll see you around, Prez.” Replying, I crank the engine over, the loud rumble overshadowing anything else he’d been planning to say.
He throws up a two finger salute as I walk the bike backward a few paces, his men all standing around Ares, no doubt waiting to be filled in after I’m gone. Had this whole situation not been about his daughter, though, I can’t help but think that I’d have a bullet through my skull right now for chopping off his Prospect’s.
Staring at the beat-up building, I let loose a long sigh. After questioning myself fifty hundred times today about whether or not I should show up to meet Viking, I decided to say fuck it and drove my ass to the bar. Debate about it all I want to, if I’m not here, then I know he’ll be knocking on my door again. I can either face him in a room full of people when he’s had a drink or when we’re alone, and he’s irritated again.
Bethany’s supposed to meet me up here once she’s showered and changed from work. I still haven’t gotten her to confess what’s up with Nightmare. I’m quite stunned at her persistence; any other time I’ve been able to crack her into confessing. Her silence is making a huge statement, and I’m hoping that with her showing up tonight I’m not setting her up for failure being around Nightmare. It’s been four days since she stayed with him, maybe they’ve had time to cool off.
Crossing the threshold of the noisy bar, the music, and rowdy patrons’ conversations envelop me as I start to scan the room for Viking. Halfway through my perusal, one of his brothers approaches me. He’s a lot smaller than Vike, but still pleasant to look at with his dark features.
Stopping right in my path, he shadows me by a few inches. I’d guess him at five foot eleven or so. His sharp jaw is overtaken by at least two days of dark stubble from forgetting to shave, or not caring enough to.
A friendly smirk plays on his lips until my gaze meets his amused charcoal colored irises. “’Sup Princess.” He flashes me a bright smile that’s slightly bashful. “Sinner,” he states, his hand grabbing mine lightly to lead me farther into the bar.
Princess Page 9
