“Alrighty, Sweet cheeks. Go home get changed, do something with your hair and for the love of all that’s holy put on something that shows off your tits!” she yelled already turning around to head to her car as I flip her the bird. Without missing a beat she shoots one back. The woman knows me well.
A few hours later when I return to my house, my fluffy black cat meets me at the door like a dog then promptly showing me his bum as he heads to his food dish to howl. Feeding him and looking at the house around me I feel a sense of pride.
Out of everything I had accomplished this was the one thing that I was most proud of. Working on bikes has been a profitable experience and I had saved money for years living in the tiny apartment I’d rented as a teen. When I hit twenty nine this year I knew it was time to find a place that felt like home. My blood, sweat, tears, and most of my paycheck went into the small three bedroom house. It had been built in the 1940’s and had seen its fair share of occupants through the years. I had redone the wood floors after ripping shag carpet that smelled of dog piss and cigarette smoke out. Recreated the bathroom to its former glory. Repairing its old claw foot tub, and spending long nights replacing its small white and black circular tiles on the floors. This home was my pride and glory.
I turned on my favorite music and stepped into the shower feeling the day's work and stresses leave my body. No lights on and only a couple of my favorite candles lit, their warm glow reflecting off the white tile walls, creating a peaceful atmosphere to combat my anxiety about tonight. I let down my hair washing it thoroughly and scrub off the oil and grime from the work I’d put in at the shop. I stepped out of the tub and entered my walk-in closet, studying its contents. I put on lacy undies no one will probably ever see. A pair of my favorite jeans, a tank top with the shop's logo that's faded and soft but low enough it shows off my breasts perfectly, as per Bree. I added enough make up to compliment my lovely shade of dead skin tone. The wonderful thing about being a redhead is that I never, like ever, tan. Therefore can never find a foundation that doesn’t make me look orange. I leave my red locks to hang down my back and dry naturally. Then I put on my favorite ginger scented lotion rubbing it into my tattoos making their color pop a bit more with its rich moisture. I figure I’m as ready as I’m ever going to be and head out the door.
When I walk into the club, I’m met with the sound of music blaring from the clubs speakers, couples are grinding against each other or preforming more explicit acts in time with the music. I see Ky over at the bar with a brunette attached to his side. Her eyes shoot daggers at me, while his silvery one’s scan me over silently following me as I move through the club.
Amazed after all this time that I still didn’t understand why women hated me, or how knowing his eyes were on me still managed to affect me so much. I ignored them both and approach Bree at the other side of the room speaking with one of the other wives. She turns and spots me.
“I don’t think I’m staying long tonight,” I say looking back at the bar briefly. The brunette was snaking her hand up Ky’s thigh.
She looks over my shoulder at the bar and hands me a beer.
“Yes, you will. They already have the stage set up for you to sing, and you haven’t gifted us with that beautiful voice of yours in ages, so get your ass up there and do your thing!” I give her a look. Then look at the stage that I had somehow managed to miss walking through the door.
“How did they know I was going to sing tonight?” She looks up innocently.
“Well you’ve been so stressed out lately, I thought I’d take things into my own hands. You sing. You get all your rage out on the stage and everything's good again. Like a volcano. You erupt. Kill everyone and everything and then you're peaceful.” She laughs.
“Thanks.” I say with an exaggerated amount of sarcasm.
“Away with you!” she says and shoves me towards the stage where the guys are already busy setting up to play.
I approach the stage with the same lump in my throat I get before every show. And I wasn’t even expecting to sing tonight. My lip quivers giving me away to Mercy. We aren’t a real band but we’ve played and worked around each other enough to know each other's issues well. He winks at me setting the mic to a lower level. Perfect for my height or lack of it.
I scan the crowd. The club is packed tonight. I’m sure the fire marshal would have a panic attack if he walked through the door. Leaning to the mic, I instantly have everyone's attention. The music shuts off, and our speakers crackle to life. I look up and scan the crowd, seeing that Ky has now moved to the center of the room to a table, the brunette now sitting in his lap. I lock eyes with him as I tell Mercy what song to start with. I feel myself come alive and everything making me anxious leaves my body as I give myself to the beat of the music and start to sing using the look in Ky’s eyes as my fuel. I begin belting out the lyrics to “The Lion The Beast The Beat” by Grace Potter and The Nocturnals. The entire club is hanging on every word I give to them, like a lifeline, and everything fades. Nothing exists but me and the music.
We play for an hour and half. My voice has grown deep and throaty from the abuse. I find Ky in the crowd again. His face unreadable his icy gaze locks with mine as I begin my slow dance intoLissie’s version of Danzig’s “Mother,” Moving my hips with the beat of the song while raising my hands to emphasize the words. I glare the crowd before me down as if I’m singing the words to them. I finish the song and open my eyes to see Ky has left. My eyes search for him, lost in applause, whistles and cheers that have erupted around me. I find him again carrying the brunette over his shoulder the back of his tattooed head fades as he exits the room.
Pinky-O, Ky’s right hand man, and former friend, appears to give me a bear hug before tossing me off the stage into the hungry crowd.
I crowd surf my way back to the rest of the club, as he gives my ‘thank you’s” and ‘goodnights’ for me. How thoughtful, of him I think sarcastically, as I’m groped and prodded in places I didn’t think possible til I reach the end, where a happy Bree looks at me and giggles “You killed it out there! Sadist can go fuck himself! I saw him and your face when he left. Don’t let him ruin your night. You are amazing and you just did an amazing show! Plus, there’s plenty of other men here tonight!”
She wastes no time walking over to the large crowd. Striking up a conversation with a few of the men as I’m dragged along. Finding one she likes she introduces me to him. Telling him we have so much in common and so on. The man tells me his hopes of joining the club. I nod along drinking my beer. Tired from the day and sweaty from giving it my all on stage I can’t imagine getting anywhere with anyone tonight. But the thought of seeing Ky walk out with that woman is playing in my head on repeat and I hadn’t seen him come back yet. Same shit different day I guess but for some reason I let it bother me tonight. Then I do something completely out of character. I interrupt the man in front of me. “Michael? Do you have a girlfriend? Wife? Side chick of any sort?” He shakes his head no. “Do you wanna fuck?”
He looks me over surprised at first, eyes taking in my body as my shirt clings to my curves and nods. “Yeah. Alright where do you want to go?” He asks.
I start walking expecting him to follow to the bathroom down the hall. “The rooms are for members only,” I explain over my shoulder. He’s right on my tail as we pass Ky just returning from his room buttoning up his jeans and instantly stopping in his tracks to see if I have the guts to follow through. The brunette walks past me, smug smile on her face and tries pulling on Ky’s arm attempting to pull him back to the bar.
“Come on Sadist, that was amazing I need a drink after all that energy we just used.” she pouts. Ky ignores her completely as his silver eyes bore into mine before looking to Michael like he might slit his throat right then and there. The thought thrills me briefly. But I choose to push him and the slut on his arm vying for his attention. I’m on a mission and Michael’s not paying attention to anything but my ass. Looking Ky in the eyes I push Michael
against the door to the bathroom, pressing my breasts into his chest and kissing him. He kicks the door behind him open.
It gives easily, swinging open and banging against the tiled wall loudly. Briefly, I thought twice what I’m about to do, but Michael is unfazed and still going strong as he presses me against the counter while kisses me and runs his hands over my body.
I let him lift me onto the countertop and he immediately begins to pull off my jeans, before he can come back for another kiss I push his head down, showing him where I want him to be. He goes down on his knees in front of me just as the first booming knocks come through the door. He’s momentarily distracted, I roll my eyes and yell before I can think at the door.
“Fuck off Sadist!” I instantly realize the mistake I’d made once the words are out and I lose his attention entirely. His eyes going wide as realization hits. “Three...two…one.” I count off. In those few seconds Michael is up and I’m slowly attempting to pull my pants up as the door flies off its hinges. It hits the wall so hard, the metal knob cracks a few of the tiles before falling to the floor. “Hi there! So happy to have you join us!” Anger spilling into each word as I finally manage to pull my jeans over my ass and see the crowd forming behind the wall of man that’s in front of me. Ky’s face is a mask of fury as he looks at me our eyes locked. “Michael you can leave now.” I tell him and he doesn’t hesitate to run past Ky and out of the club. Safe from Ky’s wrath as long as we are in a power standoff. “What the fuck are you doing?” his voice almost a growl. He looks like he's going to eat me alive, his silver eyes daring me to say something. I have something up my ass tonight that I have to prove. I just want to pick a fight with the great and powerful Ky.
“I’m just trying to get laid. I notice you didn’t have a problem in that department.” I say, venom seeping into my tone as he gets a wicked smile on his face and swings his fist into the mirror. It instantly splinters and fragments to the floor. The action sparked something deep within me urging me on, we probably have the whole club's attention right now. But I’m not done I can’t hold back the anger building in me “Do you realize this is probably the most you've spoken or even fucking interacted with me at all in the last TEN years? And you think you have a right to have a say in who I choose to fucking sleep with? You have some unspoken claim on me that everyone is aware of but you won’t do a goddamned thing about! Can’t touch or be touched like I’m a fucking curse! You have isolated me and won’t even talk to me!” I was rambling, I was screaming, I had tears streaming down my cheeks. Part of my brain was telling me I would regret this the other half was cheering me on. This is not how I wanted the night to go.
“Don’t push me Alexis. Not right now.” That just re lit the fire. I get as close to him as I can without touching him glaring up into his silver eyes.
“Why? What are you going to do about it? Ignore my existence entirely and cut me off? Hmm, seems you've got that part covered.” I literally push him then. I push him out of the way like he isn’t a freaking wall of muscle and walk out of the club of staring faces with my head held high. The only sound breaking through the silence in the club is the sound of Ky losing his shit and smashing things in the background. The blunt crashing sounds of his pain make me smile through my tears.
I showered again when I got home, put my hair up in a messy bun before digging out my favorite comfort clothes my favorite worn thin, Frankenstein’s monster leggings, a purple tank top with paint stains and my cat in my lap to complete my look. I check my phone after it vibrates itself off the kitchen counter where I’d thrown it as I’d come in the door. Fifteen missed calls and a string of texts
Bree: Well the club is finally getting that bathroom remodel it needed.
Bree: Are you okay?
Bree: They finally got Sadist out of the club before he could rip another room apart. No idea where’s he’s at now.
Bree: Did you make it home safe? Love ya girl check in when you can.
Bree: PS. Go you, you were awesome tonight!
Bree: PSS. Your badass took on hurricane Sadist and won!
Bree: PSSS. You're my hero! Women rule!
I can’t help but laugh she knows how to cheer me up. I send her a quick text back and decide to settle in for the rest of the weekend to deep clean my house and binge watch the weekend away with the seven seasons of a popular show I’ve been hearing about for years.
Chapter 3: “I Apologize” Five Finger Death Punch
Everything returns to normal the following day back at work. I don’t know what I expected. Maybe to be shunned. But I think if anything I saw a few nods of respect. My coworkers were the only ones that had anything to say about the entire confrontation. And that died down pretty quickly when I refused to talk about it.
Ky:
I can’t get Alexis or the image of her gorgeous tattooed ass out my head right now. Her little show the other night is on repeat in my head. Seeing her onstage then purposely about to fuck a guy in the clubs bathroom nearly sent me over the edge. Which was clearly her point and everything she said was absolutely right. But I have absolutely no time to fantasize about shit that is never gonna happen. And I need to get my head in the game.
A threat’s been made toward the club. Threatening the club and the lives of their families. This is nothing new but the way they went about delivering the message was. They dropped off one of my club members bloodied and beaten. With a symbol of The Devil’s Posse burned into the flesh of his back, branding him like a fucking pig. He’s now in the clubs infirmary receiving treatment with one of our members outside of the door at all times.
I’d ordered a lockdown and shelter in place shortly after he was dropped on our doorstep. Families were starting to arrive in droves. We had added on to the clubhouse to support this should it ever happen so there would be plenty of space for everyone. D and Bree have just shown up. I catch them as they enter the clubs main rooms carrying in their bags. One look at Bree and I swear that woman is a fucking psychic “She’s on her way right now. She was bitching about leaving her devil cat behind and having to be escorted by Pinky. No less than 5 minutes ago.” I nod and head towards my room to get my head together for what's about to happen.
An hour later we are all saddling up to head out, the roar of sixty engines deafening. I take my place at the middle of the pack. Mercy taking the lead. Pinky taking my back. We ride forty miles north to the location we had intel on.
The Devils Posse’s club house backs up to a wooded area but, its front is open to a busy street. No way could we go in without notice. We had scoped the area out last night and had them under surveillance all day. Taking the scenic routes to avoid being seen on the bikes and no cuts. We split four ways parking the bikes a mile away in either direction.
I speak to my men through radio communication. “I need Valkyrie on Valentine Street. Spartan on Spiller. Hades you're with me on the back and Lady Luck you're on the right.” I wait to make sure everyone has heard me. “Valkyrie and Lady Luck hold the street. Spartan you get eye’s in the buildings across the street.” Hades it’s a mile walk in the woods for us. When this goes down it’s going to go down fast. On my order you go.”
The next forty five minutes goes by slowly. Everybody I have here is trained and had military or police experience they all know what to do and what I expect from them.
We move through the woods in silence, wary of possible traps. Pinky is on my back the only time he’s ever quiet, but he lives for this shit. With the clubhouse in sight, we move forward and halt about fifteen meters. There’s a fence in our way with about ten feet from the actual clubhouse between. The good news is the back doors are open and music is blaring. The bad news is someone’s going to notice the fence going. This has to happen quick.
Breaking radio silence I give one word. “GO.” Everything happens as just as we had planned. Two guys go up to the fence tie ropes around the tops and pull it down to the ground. Then the others surge forward from the sides and the front. The
Posse was prepared for this and shots ring out instantly. All my guys are wearing bulletproof vests but they are only for small arms fire. I knew it was a risk, I’m torn on losing any of my brothers but deep down I know I’m going to lose a few guys tonight. The thought fuels my fire to keep everyone safe.
We push on through the building clearing it. The president of the Devils Posse, Dante is nowhere to be found. We figured he’d have a backup plan and somehow escaped. The few men we have aren’t talking. Yet. I light a cigarette and excitedly gear up for my turn with the VP Bullet.
“Where is Dante?” I question pulling my knife from its holster. Silence. I take a drag from my cigarette and roll up the sleeves of my shirt. I take the knife raising it up for him to see and then lightly press it just under the far edge of his collar bone. The man's eyes widen but he stays quiet “Where” Press “Is” Press “Dante?” The man pisses himself. The smell hitting my nostrils and the dark stain on his pants reveals all “Oh, you got a weak bladder? That's just the tip baby.” I twist the knife before driving it deep into his flesh. The man screams. The wound won’t kill him but it does make him talk once he’s settled down.
“Ssss...a-ddist.” he almost whispers recognition in his voice.
“Yep.” I smile “The devil himself, now that you're up to speed do I really need to repeat the question?” I pull out another knife from its sheath on my chest licking its tip.
“Nnn no. H-h-he's n-not here.” I take the knife and run the blade along the other side of his chest down his ribs inserting the tip between two ribs. The man musters a little more courage. “He’s not here Sadist I mean it. He was expecting ya’ll to show up. I was to stay here and hold down the fort.” I run the tip of the knife over the bones making a bloody X appear.
Malicious Intent M.C.: Volume One Sadist Page 2
