Policy of Truth (Sacred Heart Continuum Series Book 1)

by Scarlett Holloway

  “If he was going to attack my guys, do you think it’d be as simple as a beat down? Fuck no. I’d come waltzing in to a pile of bodies.”

  Her tongue was heavy with sarcasm. “Yeah, I tend to forget I don’t have a cock and balls.”

  Steel scoffed with a partial shake of his head. “You’ve got more balls than half my club, Tilly. Vader doesn’t see that. He see’s emotional women who will buckle under stress. Which, by the way, you haven’t done. You’ll take him off guard by requesting a meet.”

  “I guess,” Lace mumbled, feeling defeated.

  “It’ll buy you some time to get more bouncers, alert Rev, maybe get a couple of his guys here to help out. Plus, you’ve got a charity event coming up to get Domino set up for.”

  “Ugh, yeah, I know. I’m not looking forward to cleaning up that mess.”

  Steel’s calloused hand took hers, giving it a gentle squeeze. “You know the Roja will help with that. We’ll do it as soon as Bronson releases it back to you. I’ll have Butcher do some BBQ for us. Make a day of it. And you know just as well as I do, if you tell Rev or Bones what you’ve got going on, they’ll be right here beside you, helping rebuild.”

  Lace nestled herself into his side, laying her head on his shoulder, emitting a tiny sigh. “Want to watch a movie?”

  ****

  Lace yawned, rocking back in her office chair. Bronson released the hold on the bar that morning, complaining about how he couldn’t help the girls if he didn’t have anyone cooperating with him. He couldn’t use any of the prints found because of the thousands scattered about the nightclub.

  Anyone could say the prints got there because they’d come to the bar for a drink and fellowship. Neither Durty, nor Fenix, could recall what their attackers looked like, and Stellar was still unconscious. It was a misdemeanor theft with the hundred and twenty dollars taken, the only other law broken was assault, which was currently out on its ass.

  She’d text the sisters and told them all to get their asses there, impromptu meeting. Now it was a waiting game.

  The call to Rev went better than she’d hoped. He was on Steel’s side, feel him out before Rev sent out Reaper and Crypt to clean house. She carefully explained she didn’t want them to fight her battles, it would be handled, but if she needed his help, she wouldn’t hesitate to call.

  That went over like a fart in church.

  He did tell her they’d be coming to help during her cleaning party and she could just get over herself if she objected. Lace was smart enough to know when to keep her trap shut.

  Now, the girls were filtering in one by one, through the back, Lace having sent specific instructions they weren’t to go through the front, or else.

  She’d made that mistake already.

  The bar wasn’t as bad as she predicted it to be by the video and what little memory she could recall when she ran inside to find Stellar. It was mainly the front bar that was trashed. Black dust from the fingerprint kits, blood on the floor, and smashed liquor bottles. Chairs were splintered, a few couches were pissed on, and there were scratches all over the dance floor.

  It’d take all day if the Roja’s were there to help them. If the Muerte showed up? Even quicker.

  Lace snapped out of her reverie when the steel door shut behind Stiletto. A quick glance around the large office told her everyone but Stellar was present.

  “What’s up?” Viper flopped down on the couch next to Durty, quickly apologizing as the injured sister hissed.

  “How are we in here?” Curby questioned, glancing at her watch, then back to Lace.

  “You late for something, Curby?” Lace’s jaw tensed in frustration.

  “Jason has football practice tonight. It’s a big game coming up and the coach has them on the field every day.”

  “I’ll make this quick and then you can get to the boys.” One rule Lace had with the club was no small children. Curby was an exception to the rule because her kids were teens and Curby didn’t participate in certain club ventures or business. Lace didn’t want Curby to put herself in harm’s way or have her boys used against her if shit went south.

  Lace knew her sisters were about to become livid with her decision, but that was the perks of being the president. The final decision was hers, unless it concerned the safety of the club. Then and only then, could Viper overrule her.

  “I talked to Reverend this morning, after Bronson released the hold on the bar, and he agrees with me. We won’t retaliate against Vader right now.”

  There was a brief moment of silence before the room exploded into twelve pissed off women, all talking, yelling, and bitching at once.

  Stiletto’s voice cut through the shrill of women. “Why the fuck not?”

  “When would you suggest we plan this retaliation to take place? While we’re fixing the bar? Repairing all the damage done? While we’re waiting for three injured sisters to get better? Or before we go onto the Res tonight for the Battleground?” Lace couldn’t help the snide tone, but she hated to be questioned on her decisions.

  A silence followed as Lace’s answer sank into their fired-up brains.

  “Any suggestions? I’m willing to hear them. Help me out here.” Lace nodded perfunctorily. “That’s what I thought. It’s that kind of thinking that got us here in the first place. I’m going to set up a meet with Vader and feel him out, see if he’ll stop this shit and what Blondie has on him and the MC.

  “Right now, if we retaliate, they’ll be expecting it. What they won’t be expecting, is me asking for a meet with Vader. If we were to rush in, right now,” Lace reached down to her boot and pulled out her small pistol and slammed it to the desk. “We’re not going to have one girl in the hospital, we’ll have several sisters in the morgue.”

  “Pffft.” Flames rolled her eyes.

  Lace looked away from a silent Durty, whose agitation was evident by her bottom lip being ground down on with her teeth. “What?” she snapped at Flames.

  “I understand the logic, but dude, it sucks having our hands tied. We need to make them feel what we’ve felt and are feeling right now,” Flames retorted, her voice holding an edge of sarcasm.

  “If it means tying your hands is what I must do to keep you all safe, that’s fine. Then call me the warden of Shawshank-a-bitch Prison.” Lace snatched up her pistol and slid it back to her boot, pushing down the leg of her jeans.

  Viper cleared her throat. “Lace is right. The safety of the club is more important than spilling their blood right now. We’ll get our chance, but seriously? I’m already tired of spending time in the hospital. We’ve got to focus on other shit; like getting this bar set back up and getting ready for Durty’s Disco Nights.”

  Durty smiled, nudging Viper as she spoke. “I want nothing more than retaliation, trust me. But if we were to strike back right now? The cops would know it was us. Bronson isn’t stupid, guys. We don’t need any negative light, it’s bad enough it was in the papers already and their making Stellar out to be some piece of white trash. What do you think will happen if we jump the gun and attack them?”

  “It’s not up for a vote. The decision is made, take it or leave it. You all have made great points, but we’ve got to put all our attention on healing first, whether it’s the bar or the sisters. Speaking of which, two of ours are fighting tonight,” Lace remarked, proud at how nonchalant she sounded.

  Chapter 17

  Raise Your Fist

  Durty stared at herself in the mirror with slight detachment. She wore her Battleground gear, her referee shirt and black booty shorts with her calf high Doc’s. The wrinkle in the tight black and white striped shirt was a dead giveaway her ribs were bandaged. This was one moment she was glad she never fought in the events. Her job was simple, look good and make the announcements.

  Not a prob.

  Pulling her brown hair up into a ponytail, she grinned in the mirror as Flames stuck her head inside the door. “Your man just pulled up with two really h
ot looking dudes. Just sayin’.”

  Her mouth curved into an unconscious smile. “He’s not my man, Flames.”

  Black eyes rolled in response. “Yeah, okay. If that’s the case, then I’m taking him home tonight and rocking his world.”

  She playfully glared at Flames, turning away from the bathroom sink and mirror, striding toward the door and her friend. “Stick with the two really hot looking dudes. Just sayin’.”

  Durty was greeted with a peal of laughter as Flames draped her arm over her shoulders, leading her toward the concessions area. “Seriously though?”

  Durty glanced sidelong at the Polynesian beauty. “What?”

  Flames came to a stop, pulling her arm from around Durty. The black pearl gaze met her own with a seriousness Durty hadn’t seen in Flames before. “You’re okay with Lace’s decision? I mean, you’ve lost your heart patch, now you’re being told you can’t seek retribution? I’d be pissed.”

  Durty was upset. There was no lying about that. Every time she thought about the loss of her patch, her stomach twisted, and she wanted to bury herself in some numbing agent, whether alcohol or drugs, she didn’t give a shit. Durty was stronger than that, and it lit a fire deep inside to roll her shoulders back, stick out her chest, and raise her head up high. She’d get the patch back if it killed her. She understood Lace’s choice though and the reasoning behind it. She had to look at the bigger picture, not at the revenge she wanted.

  “By the look on your face, I’d say I’m right.” Flames voice held a form of smug satisfaction.

  “You’re right, Flames. I won’t lie. I’m pissed, hurt, and sad, but…” Durty stepped closer to Flames, tilting her head back enough to make sure she had total eye contact with her sister. Flames would ignore Lace in a heartbeat if Durty wanted to go off and get even with the Warriors. That was the type of woman Flames was. She was loyal to the club and to her sisters, but that loyalty only went so far with Flames. Flames and Durty bonded years ago over their pasts, which led Durty to believe if she said the word, Flames would incite a mutiny with the girls.

  “But,” Durty continued, taking Flames’ hand in her own. “I know where Lace is coming from, Jay. She’s right on this one. If we attack now, some of us will end up six feet under, and I refuse to have that on my conscious.”

  “It’s bullshit,” Flames hissed, glancing around them before she spoke once more. “You deserve to get pay back, Tamra.”

  “And Lace will make sure I get it. It’s in your DNA to fight, Flames. And I can’t say thank you enough for looking out for me, but we sit on this one. Plus, I’ve already lost one patch. I don’t want to get my ass beat back down to prospect level again.”

  “It’s still bullshit.” Flames muttered in indignation.

  Durty sighed in resignation, her shoulders slumping. “No, it’s not, Flames. I was in the wrong. No matter how much I hate to admit that, I was. I knew to keep my mouth shut, and I didn’t. I let my temper get away from me.”

  “Alright. I’ll drop it. For now.”

  “Thank you. Just please, trust me on this one.” Durty raised her voice enough to be heard over the growing volume of the restless crowd. Turning away from Flames, she stepped out from behind the concession stand. “Holy spitballs.”

  The warehouse was packed. Neshoba had backed his truck in and was hooking up the audio system for Durty to use, the only room available, besides the makeshift ring. The mass-text Flames sent out must have tripled since the last fight.

  “How many people signed up?” Durty looked incredulously at Flames.

  “Looks like a fuck-ton more than last time,” a husky male voice answered from the left.

  Durty broke into a wide, open smile. “Hey there, cowboy.” She swiveled toward him. The two men standing next to Sting were exactly what Flames had described. One was just as blond as Sting, chin length hair that was unruly and manly with his close-cut scruff. His eyes were a cinnamon color set in lashes that would make any woman envious. He was a touch taller than average height; if Durty had to guesstimate, she’d say easily five-eleven. The other? Well, he was a tiny, five-four─at the most. The Latino heritage was evident in the tanned skin and near shaved dark hair. It was the eyes that stood out. They resembled milky quartz.

  “Meet two of my buds, Toby and Danny.” Sting pointed to each one as he introduced them.

  Toby, the blond, nodded in greeting, while Danny, grinned and gave her an uplift of his chin.

  “Nice to meet you two, this is Flames.” Durty motioned to Flames, who batted her lashes at the two men. “Have you taken them to Lace yet?”

  Sting nodded, shoving his hand in his jeans pocket, only to pull out a black fabric covered band for his hair. Pulling it back, he tied it off. “Where’s the kid?”

  “Xander?” Durty shrugged, hiking her thumb over her shoulder. “If I had to guess? In the john, again. He said he wasn’t feeling too hot tonight.”

  “Hmm, alright.” Sting leaned into Durty, brushing his lips against her cheek. “We’ve got to get into position. See you later?”

  Durty’s lips parted in a silent breath, her finger tips brushing the freshly kissed area, nodding her head absently. “Uhuh.”

  Strolling over to the truck, she was stopped by Lace. “I’m thinking we need to do this boxing night more often.”

  “What gave you the first clue?” Durty joked back, her eyes roaming over the crowded barn. “The fact we’ve tripled in numbers?”

  “The bar being shut down and the fact it’s raining, might have something to do with it,” Lace retorted. “No one will be racing tonight, so they need something to do.”

  “You have a point.” Durty placed a booted foot on the bumper of the truck, pausing. “How much is the purse against Viper and Stiletto tonight?”

  “Last I checked? A thousand.”

  “Rules?”

  Lace scrunched up her nose. “Three, three-minute rounds, we’ve got quite a few signed up tonight. We need to keep it moving and interesting. A five-hundred-dollar prize goes to best fight of the night. So far, we’ve got six girls signed up to go against them. Whoever knocks down one of the twins gets a two hundred purse.”

  Durty pushed herself up and into the bed of the truck, looking down to Lace. “I’ve got the cue cards. I’ll save the dispute for the end of the night.”

  Lace gave her a thumbs up and turned away to push her way through the crowd and head to the concession area.

  Grabbing her cordless mic, Durty switched it on, tapping the top of the mesh. “How’s everyone tonight?”

  Durty had no clue what it was about the roar of a crowd, but it got her blood flowing. Waving to the masses, she silenced everyone. “Welcome to the Battleground!” The applause was deafening as she moved to the edge of the tailgate. “We’ve got some great fights tonight!” Durty ticked off the rules for the night, keeping the crowd alive with her side jokes. Everyone went wild at the mention of the five-hundred-dollar purse, but got louder at the mention of the main event. Bikini Boxing, staring the twins.

  After announcing the first fighters, Durty had to drag her mind back to reality. Watching Sting maneuver around the warehouse, the way he prowled about the barn, was a little bit more enticing than she liked. When a drop-dead gorgeous female stopped him, placing her hand on his chest with flirtatious laughter, Durty swallowed down the jealous rage that threatened to surface.

  She had no rights to him, though he did kiss her right?

  On the cheek.

  That didn’t mean anything more than friendship. She had to remind herself of that. She was just another female, a friend. He hadn’t even tried to make a move when he stayed the night at her place. That was the real indicator right there.

  The night drug on as Durty kept reliving the disappointment of rejection. Seeing the way other women acted toward him wasn’t helping matters either. She couldn’t tell if he was being polite to them or flirting back.

  Sitting down o
n the tailgate, Durty chuckled to herself. Partially because she was acting like a child, the other part due to the fact her mind was no longer on getting the revenge she desired, but beating the woman’s face in that just laid her hand on Sting’s hip, leaning close in whisper in his ear.

  “Durty.”

  Her hands would fit nicely around that bitch’s throat.

  “Durty?”

  Durty knew she could easily take the female, she wasn’t that big. In fact, she looked anorexic.

  “Durty!”

  Snapped out of her daydream by a voice shouting her name, she blinked rapidly, bringing Fenix into focus. “Huh?”

  “Uhm, you need to call the main event.”

  Confused for a moment, Durty glanced around the warehouse, realizing she’d brain farted for over nine minutes. Whoops.

  Hopping up to her feet, she released a shrill whistle. “Guess what time it is?”

  As the warehouse erupted into a thunderous roar, she mouthed a thank you to Fenix, turning her attention back to the patrons. “That’s right! The main event! Bikini Boxing! Let’s bring out Viper and Stiletto!”

  Cueing Neshoba, the warehouse was filled with the back beats of Excision’s Raise Your Fist as the twin’s entrance music. The bodies parted like the Red Sea as the girls all but danced toward the ring. Identical bikini’s, boy shorts, and a razor back top in black, they had their hair braided back, and the massive oversized boxing gloves on, looking out of place.

  It didn’t matter though, the masses loved it and the twins were eating that shit up by waving the gloves over their head, blowing kisses to the men, all the while dancing to the music, playing to the crowd and their hunger for sex. It’s what sells and Stiletto cornered that market, it was what she knew best.

  Once the twins were settled in their corner, Durty introduced the six women who challenged them, entering them to DaRude’s Sandstorm. The six were of various sizes, all in bikinis with regular gloves. It was a showcase match for the twins, allowing a fun atmosphere for other women to come out of their shell, or release inhibitions and do something they might not have any other time.