Enraged: Iron Vex MC Book 1

by Knox, Elizabeth

  They divorced when I was sixteen but their marriage was over the day I was born I think. It was obvious mom wasn’t happy with him, so she tried to pour her happiness and dreams onto me. I was a typical pageant girl. If anyone else knew that about me they’d probably laugh imagining me with curly hair, bright eyeshadow, bold lipstick in some sort of glittery or bedazzled dress. I was simply playing a part for my mother, and I did it well.

  It didn’t stop there, though. If I wasn’t in pageants as a child, she decided I’d be auditioning for commercials, TV shows, and movies. Just like pageantry, I did well in this field too. But mom was never the type to let me fail. She hired the best acting coaches to make sure I didn’t suck at it.

  Looking back now, I don’t know if my mom wanted me to be successful at such a young age so I’d never look to a man for that type of support or if she needed a distraction from her pathetic life. I wanted to ask her but never got the chance. She died in a freak accident. Her plane crashed down a little after takeoff after leaving a skiing trip with three of her closest friends. Only my auntie Val survived the crash. It was right before my high school graduation.

  For a while, I had taken a break from acting but continued to do it through my late teens and early twenties. I started in two movies that did very well, providing royalties for me until the end of my life. I have free rent here and don’t really have many expenses. The alimony my father had to pay my mother after their divorce transferred to me after her death, so I’m pretty set financially.

  I haven’t worked in years. Sometimes I miss it, but other times I don’t care for the way certain directors and producers would make you feel on set. Even when I was still jailbait they loved to haggle me, staring me down like I was a slice of Boston Cream Pie.

  I hear the distinctive sound of knuckles rapping lightly on my bathroom door. Instead of answering, I turn towards it and pull it towards me. Nikki, one of the other clubwhores, is staring me down with a shit-eating grin on her face. She’s a dark-skinned black girl with dreads I’m jealous of. I’ve wanted dreads for ages but have never taken that plunge.

  She’s wearing a white crop top with a pair of black leggings and royal blue heels that match her gauges. “What’s up?” I ask, waiting for the bitch to tell me why she’s bothering me.

  “Nothin’ much. Came up here to check on you. You kinda been quiet the last couple weeks since that hot, old dude showed up.” She smirks, sneaking past me in my bathroom and pops her ass on my toilet seat. Nikki digs her hand into her crop top and pulls out a blunt and lighter, putting the flame to the end and takes a couple of puffs.

  “I’ve always been a silent one.” I point out, taking the blunt from her hand and bringing it to my own lips. Oh, Marijuana, how I love thee.

  She cocks a brow, snickering in a low tone. “Yeah, you’ve always been a mysterious cat, if that’s what you’re trying to say. But it doesn’t take an idiot to figure out something’s going on. You’ve been coming back to your room when the parties start getting a little spicy. Devi said she’s only seen you fuck Rage. Venom made a comment about it, too. He claim you or some shit?”

  “Claim me as what exactly, his ol’ lady?”

  She nods her head, “Yep. He’s not from around these parts so that’s the only thing we can come up with.”

  I cackle, finding it hysterical that they think I could be ol’ lady material. “Hell will freeze over before one of these guys makes us an ol’ lady, Nikki. We’re not prospects or full-patch members. You and I are clubwhores. Not exactly ol’ lady material, are we?”

  Nikki narrows her dark eyes, “You gonna tell me what the fuck is going on then? And shit, I didn’t realize you and I were chopped liver. I’m pretty bangin’, girl.”

  “Rage hasn’t claimed me as an ol’ lady, though he’s done something different. He went and claimed me as his personal clubwhore and told me not to fuck anyone else, that I’m his. He’s Boss’s dad, and I’m not doing anything that could fuck shit up for me here.” Boss is the only one in the club who knows about my past with acting. She saw me in a movie and pointed it out to me one day in private, however, it’s not something I advertise. Plus, the characters I portrayed were a whole lot sweeter than the way I look right now.

  “Jesus. What in the fuck is that?” she responds, baffled by what I’ve told her. “Does this old fox know we’re a swingin’ club?”

  “I bet, considering he fucked Boss’s mom. The club’s been like this for, what, over fifty years or something?”

  “Yeah, something like that,” Nikki agrees.

  “You come up here to talk to me about Rage, or is something else on your mind?”

  “I don’t really have anything else for ya. You seen the news today?” Something in the way she asks is telling me something is up.

  “No . . . do I wanna know whatever it is you’re about to tell me?”

  “I mean, probably. I got up a little earlier than usual and decided to watch the news this morning. There was another attack.”

  Jesus Christ. It’s getting worse. “What is this, the third one?”

  “No, it’s the sixth . . . whoever is doing this isn’t going to stop.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right. Is the MO still going after women alone at night?”

  “Yep, every woman has had that in common, plus, they’re still happening across Queens.” Chills run over my body knowing this is happening in our neighborhood. Thankfully, none of us really travel alone at night so we’ll probably be okay. It’s still terrifying, though.

  “Have they said anything about who could be doing it?” I ask, really curious what the news people said.

  “The police have made few comments on the matter, but have said it looks like it’s a serial killer who’s following the same process. They haven’t found anything, not a damn thing to identify who could be behind it.”

  “Fuck,” I mutter, trying not to get freaked out by it.

  “. . . Gold, do you really think they’d tell the public if they didn’t have any leads?” Nikki’s tone comes out quiet, but I don’t miss the fear in her voice.

  “I don’t know, hun. I just hope they have something.”

  “Yeah, me too. I’ll see you downstairs later.” Nikki exits my bathroom quickly, probably a little shaken up from our discussion. I’m feeling a bit nervous too, but do a good job at filtering the way I feel so no one around me can tell.

  I turn back and look at the mirror, getting back to what I do every single day before I head downstairs.

  8

  If nobody hates you, you’re doing something boring.

  ~Unknown

  Rage

  Three hours have passed since the conference call with Joker and Cowboy. Tala made quick work of going around to everyone and letting them know what was happening. I got my fair share of angry stares upon delivery of the news.

  “A patch-over. Damn, never thought I’d see the day,” Mug, the Iron Vex MC’s enforcer tells me as he takes a seat next to me at the bar.

  “What’s a patch-over?” Iris asks, looking between the two of us.

  She hands us both a beer, awaiting her answer. “Basically, it’s when two motorcycle clubs merge together as one. In this case, my old club has merged with the Iron Vex.”

  “Oh . . . well, why does that happen?” Her innocence is adorable. On one of my worst days, I probably would’ve chosen a woman like her to keep a blade pinned at her jugular while I rammed her from behind. I’m not claiming to be a changed man, but I have to act differently here. For fuck's sake, I know my place, and I have no leverage.

  “It happens when people are desperate or when there’s about to be a great union, in political terms,” Mug states, glancing over to me with a smug look on his face. He knows very well why I brought the idea to Tala, as I’m sure everyone does here. It’s no secret that the Demons had a longer list of enemies versus allies.

  “Oh, so, which is it?” Iris asks, looking to me. Guess she must’ve heard that I used to be
the Prez for the Demons.

  “A little of both, I think. The Demons were in a predicament that I caused by fueling the fire. I told ya once, darlin’, I’m no angel.”

  “I dunno. You’re a little rough around the edges, Rage, but I don’t think you could hurt a fly.” Jesus, I never did realize how naive this girl is. Mug cackles out into laughter, knowing my reputation very well. This sweet little southern belle thinks I’m an angel when I’ve been called things like the devil reincarnate. Guess it just shows I can keep my shit together if I try. Not that I have a choice right now.

  Fuck, it makes me think back to it all. None of it was even that long ago, but still, the series of events replay in my mind like a fuckin’ movie. To say I regret everything I did would be a lie. I think that the universe is broad, and twisted as fuck. Things happen to certain people as a way to give them a bigger purpose. I just still don’t know what the hell that fuckin’ purpose is. I’m waitin’ over here, but given the tremors in my hand and the visit I had with the physician a while back, I know what’s happening to my body.

  The disease is starting to progress and I think soon, I won’t be able to walk in a straight line— forget about even riding a bike. My independence will be stripped from me and I’ll be forced to have caretakers assisting me with the most basic of human needs.

  “Does that mean we’ll have more brothers and sisters coming to the club soon?” Iris asks me, bringing me out of my dark, depressive thoughts.

  “Brothers, possibly. The Demons never had female members. As a matter of fact, the Iron Vex MC is the only club I know of to enlist women as prospects or full-patch members. The only time women are usually in the club is to be a clubwhore, sweet butt, patch bunny, or something like that.”

  “Uh . . . wow, I didn’t realize that. What’s a patch bunny, though? I’ve never heard of that term before.”

  “It’s a type of chick who wants to run around to the different officers in the club and get fucked. So, that chick would go to Boss, Omen, me, Muffler, and Ricochet. Sometimes, patch bunnies hop over to different clubs and fuck as many officers as they can,” Mug tells her.

  “Women want to do that?” Iris’s eyes go wide.

  “Not just women, flower,” Mug says, chuckling at the girl.

  “Oh my goodness! I never would’ve known any of this back in Mississippi. Most of the girls back there stay virgins until they get married, and anyone gay or bisexual hides in the closet and moves to a more accepting area as soon as they can,” Iris comments.

  “I bet it’s the only choice they really had. Southerners can either be the sweetest people on the earth or the most judgmental. There’s no in-between,” Mug states.

  Iris’s eyes light up with a flare of a little something, “Yeah. Something tells me you spent some time down south. I always hear a little twang of something in that voice of yours. What’re you hiding?”

  Mug shakes his head in disbelief, smirking as he does it. “I shoulda known a girl like you would’ve picked up on my accent. Been in New York for years now but I’m originally from ‘Bama.”

  “Well, I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone,” I mutter, grabbing my beer and head across the room to where Tala is speaking to Omen.

  “You coming over to eavesdrop?” Omen chuckles, catching me as I approach. It causes a few of the brothers and sisters from around the room to look at me in a different light, but I don’t give a fuck. I continue walking towards them until I’m close.

  “No, had every intention on picking your brains, though.”

  “I already told everyone what’s happening with the club, and the addition of our new brothers, and soon to be sisters.”

  “What do you mean?” I inquire, not remembering any women who are part of those charters.

  Tala smirks, looking to Omen and then back to me. “When I go on my visit, I’ll be bringing three women into each club. They’ll prospect as any man would and be the first women to go into those clubhouses. We’re a club of the future, Dad. No way in hell am I going to let them continue to keep things in the past. They’ll learn to respect my ways, and if not, I’ll just knock some sense into them.”

  I nod, trying to hold back the smile that wants to come out. To say I’m proud of Tala for the woman she’s become is an understatement. Even if I get pissed at her ridiculous outfits, she’s turned into one hell of a Prez. I have to give credit where it’s due. Her mother and grandfather did a better job than I ever could’ve.

  “It’s a good way to force it on them. Smart as hell,” I reply.

  “Yep, it is. I’m sure they’ll think the chicks I’m bringing are clubwhores, but little do they know, I have six girls up here who’ve wanted to be initiated into the club, but I don’t have open spots right now. I gave them each the opportunity to come into a sister charter and they accepted. All six will travel with me when I go to Toronto, and the remaining three will ride out to Calgary with me. I’m estimating I’ll be gone for about a week and a half,” she tells me.

  “Is anyone else going with us?”

  She narrows her eyes. “When did I invite you?”

  “You didn’t, but I’m comin’. I know these men and they need to see I’m following your lead,” I state, continuing. “So, who’s coming with?”

  “I’m bringing Abyss, Chuckles, and Devi with me, plus you, I guess. Omen will keep the club in line while we’re away and I’ll call with daily updates.” She looks to Omen as she finishes speaking, keeping her gaze on him a little longer than I’d say is normal. It makes me wonder if those two are a thing . . . but I don’t think they are. Jesus, who the fuck knows. Everyone fucks each other here.

  “We’ll have a whole gang with us, including the girls you’re bringing,” I mutter, turning as Gold comes in through the door. She’s the type of woman who always demands attention when she walks into a room, causing every fucker within eyesight to look at everything she embodies.

  She’s really nothing special, but it’s her attitude that demands all the attention. To me, that’s what makes her so fuckin’ beautiful. She’s got nice hair, a pretty face, her body is just like every other skinny woman, but that ass of hers is nice and round. I might be crazy but never have I been the type of dude who’s interested in a girl for her attitude. Gold is the type of woman who cuts to the chase and doesn’t waste your time. That’s what I fuckin’ like about her.

  Tala is talking to me, but I tune her out. I speak up, making it obvious I’m not paying attention. “I’ll catch up with you later. I gotta go deal with some things.”

  9

  Fear is a liar, don’t listen to it.

  ~Unknown

  Gold

  I head into the bar after cleaning the second floor. It was a complete mess which makes me wonder if they had a party last night I wasn’t privy to. Everyone knows to clean up after themselves, and they’re old enough to be held accountable for their actions or lack thereof. I’m getting to the point where I wanna put anyone who isn’t doing their damn job in a chokehold

  I’m a clubwhore, not a damn maid. It’s about time everyone around here realized this shit. Guess I should be grateful for Iris and Faith, though. These two southern belles just wanna help wherever they can. Sometimes, they get stepped on in the process.

  I head straight up to the bar, sitting on one of our seriously outdated barstools. It’s so hard my ass feels like I’m sitting on a rock. Faith comes over with a glass of vodka. I don’t need anything fancy. Hell, most of the time, I don’t even want ice in it. I’d drink it straight from the bottle if it wasn’t frowned upon.

  “Have you heard? Another pour soul was found,” she says, looking to the TV in the corner of the room where subtitles are coming up about the series of murders.

  “Same place?”

  “No, this time it was that small marina right off Grand Central Parkway,” Faith tells me, and I know the place she’s talking about. It has a really small beach, and it’s in a really nice area too. So, whoever is doing this is no
w changing the location of where they’re dropping their victims' bodies.

  “Do the police not have a single lead? I don’t understand what the fuck they’re doing.”

  “To be honest, I don’t think so. They keep asking for the public’s help in identifying who’s behind this, but the news station said today a group of individuals is doing this. They read the letter they received over the air before they turned it over to the police.”

  “Wait, what happened?” I inquire, taking a sip of my drink.

  “They got a letter in the mail yesterday and aired it on the news last night. Every now and again they replay it. To sum it up, a group of individuals is determined to wash away the sinful women who are creating our overpopulation problem.”

  I stare at Faith for a second, trying to wrap my head around what she’s just said. “So, overpopulation is suddenly being blamed solely on women?”

  “Yep, cause you know, women are the only ones it takes to have a baby.”

  Rolling my eyes, I say, “Fucking ridiculous.”

  “Yeah, it sounds to me like this is a group of extremists finding an excuse to murder innocent women. Think about it, these girls are walking alone at night, usually from the club or a bar. That’s how these people grab them. All of the women, who they’ve grabbed, have been unmarried, so it looks to me like they’re picking whomever they deem to be slutty from the side of the streets.”

  I shake my head, baffled at this shit. It’s awful this is happening in the first place, but worse it’s in our own neighborhood. Queens has never been the safest place to live, but crime rates haven’t ever been too bad. Now, everything has changed. People are afraid, fearful of leaving to go out for a late-night dinner with friends since these murders started.