Marek (Knights Corruption MC #1)

by S. Nelson

  Killing those bastards was at the forefront of my agenda, but just in case we failed, I had another plan in place. A plan which was carefully being orchestrated with someone even more powerful than me.

  All in due time.

  Throwing down the gavel, I left no room for argument. Our meeting was done. My word was law, and even if a few of them didn’t agree, they didn’t show it. I welcomed everyone’s input, but once I had my say, there was to be no more discussion on the topic.

  “Let’s go get us some pussy!” Hawke yelled, following Ryder and Trigger from the room. Lucky for him, and for all of us, Edana was two states away visiting her mother.

  A loud crash out front drew all of our attention. We’d only been two hours into an impromptu ruckus when the shit started to go down. Men scattered, yelling and reaching for their closest weapon of choice. Running toward the secured entrance of the clubhouse, some of the men waited to be ordered outside to find out what the hell was going on. Stone followed behind me as I walked into our surveillance room, staring at all the cameras to find out who or what was behind the loud noise. Each screen turned up blank, no activity as the camera slowly turned from side to side. We saw our bikes all lined up in a row, the lot otherwise empty, the door of our garage pulled shut, and the large metal gate, which kept us securely inside. Something quickly moved past the gate, a dark shadow passing in front of the camera before we could identify it.

  Everything was all clear except for the ghost we’d seen on camera.

  Headlights illuminated the lot before backing up from the gate, something falling to the ground in front of the car before it sped off. Running toward the front door, I pushed past my VP and reached for the handle.

  “Marek, NO!” he shouted, but his plea fell on deaf ears. A sinking feeling gutted me, but I had no idea why. I couldn’t see who had crashed into our gate, nor the body who was dumped on our property. But I knew it wasn’t good.

  There was a lot of commotion surrounding me as I stalked toward the gate, the compound security lights suddenly flooding the area so we could all see better. With every step I took closer, my heart picked up its pace and rammed against my chest. My adrenaline pumped through my veins and my vision became cloudy. At first, I only saw a crumpled male body, but the closer I stepped the more I could make out. He was certainly one of ours, his cut showcasing our club’s emblem of a skull with a sword slicing through it. His short hair was greased with blood, his head turned to the side so I couldn’t see who he was.

  Yet.

  Quickly scanning the street to make sure we weren’t gonna be ambushed, I shouted, “Open the fucking gate!”

  The slow creak of the metal was infuriating, my pulse quickening the longer it took to reach the man who’d been dropped off as a warning. I knew by who, but had to make sure before I lost my shit once and for all.

  Gurgling sounded from the bloody man’s throat and I breathed a sigh of relief, although it was short-lived once I turned him on his back. His pulse was weak, and it was only a matter of time before he exhaled his last breath. There was so much blood it was hard for me to see where his wounds were.

  “Let me take a look,” I soothed, the tremor in my voice certainly betraying my faux calm tone. His arms fell away from his stomach, his hands hitting the pavement beside him with a heavy thud. I lifted his shirt and saw he’d been shot four times, the holes gaping and seeping blood faster than was safe, although being shot just once wasn’t safe. He was gonna bleed out right in front of us, and I still couldn’t identify him.

  When I finally turned his head, familiar eyes met mine, and I about had a heart attack.

  I knew him.

  We all knew him, although we hadn’t seen him in years.

  The bloody man I was staring at was none other than Hawke’s older brother, Tripp. He’d joined our nomad charter four years earlier. Not belonging to any one charter suited him just fine. A loner lifestyle was more his thing, even though he showed up every now and again to see not only his club brothers, but his blood brother as well. They were close, and I was waiting for shit to erupt as soon as Hawke realized his sibling was lying on the cold pavement, dying with each struggled breath.

  “Who the hell is it, Marek?” Everyone crowded around while I tried to decide the best way to break the news to Hawke, while still doing my best to try and drag Tripp into the compound without further injuring him. I heard you weren’t supposed to move someone who was hurt, but was that when they’d been shot? Or was that when they’d hurt their neck? Goddamn it! Too many thoughts plagued me and before I could decide on one course of action, I saw the dying man’s younger brother approach, furrowing his brow the closer he came.

  He stopped ten feet from us and looked shocked, his brain actively trying to compute just who he was staring at. The simple fact that he recognized his brother from that far away was amazing, seeing as how I had been up close and personal before I’d identified him.

  When I finally lifted my head to meet Hawke’s stare, I gave him a simple nod, my indication that what he thought was true. It was enough to force him out of his own head, his legs bringing him to an abrupt halt once he’d reached us.

  “Fuck!” he yelled, gripping his hair in fear. “What the fuck? Tripp?” he whispered, falling to his knees so his brother could hear him, if he was even still conscious. By his labored breathing, I wasn’t sure how much longer he was gonna last, and I sure as shit didn’t want his death on my hands simply because I had no idea what I was doing.

  I knew we couldn’t act like normal people and take him to the emergency room. Because of the gunshot wounds, the police would be called right away, and there was no way we were willingly going to include those pigs in our business.

  Hawke gripped his brother’s hand and held it in his lap, all the while watching me to give direction on what the hell we were gonna do. Time seemed to slow, the men’s shouts lessened to whispers with every agonizing second that passed. In reality, the action around me was a flutter of curses and shouts, people moving around us quickly to decide what the hell the best course of action was.

  It was then, during my mini freak-out, that I remembered Trigger’s niece was a nurse. She’d helped us out quite a few times before and had done a bang-up job. No pun intended, of course.

  “Trig!” I shouted over all the noise, whipping my head around and scanning the growing crowd to try and locate the one man I needed right then.

  Pushing past Stone and Ryder, Trigger stepped forward, stopping to stand directly beside me. “What do you need?” he asked, obvious panic dancing in his voice.

  Quickly glancing down into Tripp’s pale, ashen face, I whipped my eyes back to Trigger and mumbled, “You need to call your neice, man. Tell her it’s an emergency.” I inhaled a deep breath. “Tell her to get here now!”

  A simple nod and he was hurrying back into the clubhouse, a few of the club whores, who’d come out to see what all the commotion was, following directly behind him. They knew enough to know that curiosity of club business would get them banned for life.

  Kneeling on the ground and holding a lifeless brother’s body was gut-wrenching. No matter how many times I’d seen death, or impending death, up close, it never got easier. I thought I would have become numb to our way of life, but there was always an undercurrent of life pulsing through my veins. A hope for something better for not only me but for my brothers.

  For my club.

  A half hour later, I heard someone call out, “She’s here,” right before two bright headlights blinded me. We’d managed to carefully drag Tripp further into the compound, locking ourselves inside in case whoever had dumped him decided to return.

  Slamming her door, Trigger’s niece, Adelaide, quickly walked toward us, the sight of the blood-soaked pavement never once making her falter. Although she wasn’t a part of our way of life, she knew enough about it from her uncle, and her visits to help us, to know we lived dangerously. She gave no indication that she wanted to know more, and her un
cle made damn sure she wasn’t exposed more than she had to be.

  Pulling her long blonde hair on top of her head in a messy bun, she knelt down beside us, placing her black bag on the ground next to Tripp’s thigh. Sensing help had arrived, a guttural moan exploded from his throat, the sound putting us all on alert. While his groan reminded us of his dire situation—like we needed a reminder—his pain also gave us hope, seeing as how he hadn’t moved or made any other noises in quite some time.

  “What happened?” Adelaide asked, gently pushing up his blood-soaked shirt so she could get a better look at the damage. Her almond-shaped eyes widened when she realized the poor guy had been shot four times. “I need you to help me,” she said, looking between me and Hawke, who’d been a permanent fixture next to his brother.

  “With what?” I asked, scooting back a little as she moved closer on her knees. I heard a noise come from above me, but it wasn’t until I jerked my head to the right that I realized it had come from my VP. He was watching Adelaide with such intensity it instantly put me on edge. In all the years we’d known each other, I’d never seen him react to a woman like this. It was weird, and it was freaking me out. Since he was still crowding my personal space, I jabbed my elbow into his shin, directing his attention on me and not on the woman who’d been called in to help a fellow brother. Widening my eyes and flaring my nostrils was enough to make him back up a step, averting his eyes from Adelaide in the process. Although not gazing upon her lovely face seemed to be distressing him.

  “I need to gently roll him over to see if there are exit wounds. If there are, I think there is a good chance I can help him. Possibly,” she contemplated, her brows furrowing in thought. “If not, if the bullets are still stuck inside, he’s going to need surgery. And although I’ve assisted in many an operation, I don’t have the experience or necessary instruments to take on such a task.”

  I hadn’t even thought about that shit. Her words caused my chest to deflate, the last reserve of hope I had swirling around inside escaping through the long breath I pushed from my lips. What were the chances all four bullets shot clean through his body? The answer was slim.

  Preparing for the worst, Hawke and I cautiously rolled his brother off his back, all the while cushioning him as best we could. Tripp groaned, his hands clenching into loose fists the more we moved his lifeless body. “It’s okay, man,” Hawke mumbled near Tripp’s ear. “We’re just trying to patch you up.” The pain in his voice just about undid me. He was trying to remain strong, all the while shoving his panic way deep down inside.

  When Tripp was finally resting on his side, Adelaide brought out a pair of scissors and cut the material from his body. Luckily, we’d been able to remove his cut before she’d arrived, otherwise, she would have tried to slice through that as well. Once his back was exposed, she gingerly felt around his skin with the tips of her delicate fingers.

  Searching for holes in his flesh.

  She reached into her bag and pulled out gauze, wiping away as much blood as she could so she could better assess the damage. “Well, it looks like three of the four bullets have gone straight through, but there’s still one stuck in there. And it looks like it might be close to his heart.” She looked over at me first, then met Hawke’s eyes before subtly shaking her head. “He needs surgery, and he needs it quick or else I don’t think he’s going to make it.”

  Hawke’s voice shattered the otherwise silent air. “Fuck!” he screamed, leaning over the body of his dying brother. He whispered something in Tripp’s ear, words no one but his sibling heard. As soon as he gathered his resolve, he jumped to his feet, walked around Tripp and pulled Adelaide to her feet. Everything happened so fast I barely had time to react. But Stone filled in for me, taking the few necessary steps to brace Adelaide on her other side. “You have to fix my brother,” Hawke gritted through clenched teeth. I knew he was doing his best to hold his shit together, but in the process he was scaring the hell out of Trigger’s niece. She didn’t ask to be dragged into our mess, and the mere fact that she’d dropped whatever the hell she was doing and raced over to the club said a lot about her character.

  “Hawke,” Stone warned, a rare gesture of possessiveness brimming just underneath the surface. “She already told you she can’t perform the surgery, if that was where this shit was headed.” He pulled her to the side, Hawke’s grip loosening until his hand fell to his side. Unspoken threats were whispered between the two men while I decided what the hell we needed to do.

  Adelaide eyed both men cautiously before gently pulling away from Stone, a strange look of hurt in his eyes when she moved. She smiled tightly before speaking again. “I think I may have another plan,” she promised, pulling her cell phone from her purse and quickly punching the numbers. She took a few steps forward for some privacy, everyone watching after her in anticipation, the air suddenly thick with a mixture of hope and uneasiness.

  Sully

  A noise from the hallway jerked me awake—not that it took much, since I was an extremely light sleeper. I guess I’d been conditioned that way since I was a child, always wary of who was coming through my bedroom door. Sometimes it was my father, paying me one of his special visits, and other times it was Vex. Once my possessor declared me for himself, my father’s visits ceased altogether, some kind of fucked-up code among club members.

  There were some nights I wished whoever had walked through my door was there to do me in, to act in such a way which resulted in me taking my last breath.

  To kill me.

  Trust me, I realized it was morbid to put those kinds of wishes and dreams out into the universe, but if destiny proved anything thus far, it was that my life was not my own. Therefore, destiny was a goddamn liar. I had no control whatsoever over my own fate; I had to leave that in the hands of the men who surrounded me, stifling and suffocating me to the point I no longer saw any joy in the world. Granted, I hadn’t seen much of it to begin with, but there were exceptions. Some days, at least. The soft song of a bird, the cool night breeze kissing my skin as the sun dipped below the horizon, the colors from the sunset embedding their awesomeness into my memory.

  But the older I became, the less I saw these things as beauty, and the more I saw them as the universe’s cruel joke at my expense. For as tempting as Mother Nature was, she spit in my face.

  I could look but not touch.

  I could feel but never experience.

  While lost to the pity party for one, my bedroom door crashed open and slammed into the wall with such force I was convinced there was a gaping hole where there once was smooth plaster. One more distasteful thing to look at.

  Vex rushed into the room, frantically searching for something he’d obviously hidden, but probably couldn’t remember where. His eyes were as wide as saucers, his pupils dilated to an unhealthy level.

  “What the hell are you looking at?” he yelled. His mood swings worsened the longer he snorted that poison. Thankfully, he didn’t make me get high with him anymore. I hated every single second he forced the shit up my nose, but I didn’t have a choice; it was either comply or endure some of the worst beatings of my young life. Truthfully, I think he stopped pressuring me because he’d become greedy. That and he was tired of hearing me complain, even though I gave in each and every time. Whatever the final reason was, I was grateful.

  “Nothing,” I muttered, quickly looking down at my trembling hands so as not to further aggravate him. Along with the mood swings, his paranoia heightened as well, forever accusing me of conspiring against him. As if I had anyone to even talk to, let alone plot against him with. Everyone in the club stayed clear of me, even the women. They knew Vex was unstable, and they chose not to have to deal with his crazy ass.

  Normally, a young woman had her father to turn to for protection, but in my case my father was worse than Vex, simply because he held no love in his heart for me, which he proved over and over again. Rico Yanez being one such prime example. Never mind that he’d sanctioned the union between Ve
x and me when I was only fourteen years old, knowing damn well what a psychopath he was.

  With the back of his hand, he swiped what few trinkets I’d been able to save over the years clear across the room. The glass from a snow globe shattered against the wall, tearing me apart because it was the last remaining item I had from my mother. Tears instantly welled behind my eyes, but I bit the inside of my cheek to distract myself from the pain building in my heart.

  Vex knew exactly how much the trinket meant to me, and that it had not met with some sort of demise before was a miracle. For as cruel as he was, I thought there was a tiny piece inside him that wouldn’t completely leave me with nothing.

  But I was wrong. Of course I was wrong. What kind of stupid woman believed there was still some sort of humanity residing inside the likes of Vex, especially after all I had witnessed and experienced over the years?

  “Fuck!” he shouted, walking quickly into the small closet we shared. Rooting through the mess, he yelled in frustration over and over again.

  Even though my voice was not wanted, I needed to know what he was looking for. Maybe I’d seen the item, and the quicker he found it the quicker he would leave.

  “What are you looking for?” I whispered, my voice loud enough for him to hear. He abruptly stopped all movement, turning on his heel so fast I thought he was going to trip over his own damn feet. Leering at me, he clenched his hands into tight fists, the craziness in his eyes coming out full force.

  “You wanna know what I’m lookin’ for?” he sneered. I remained quiet, silently berating myself for even opening my mouth to begin with. With every step he took closer, I braced myself, either for him to verbally berate me or for his fists to do the talkin’.