“Since when does the Reverend take orders from a new club?”
“Since the new club holds all the cards.”
“What’s your name?” I asked him.
“Anthony,” he replied, raising his chin to me.
“Well listen up, Anthony. We need into that meet, and we need in right the fuck now—direct orders from The Highwaymen’s president Hardy. I don’t care who this club is or who the fuck is running it. Right now, I don’t even give a fuck what they’ve told you to do. This is about respect, and if we don’t get in there’s going to be a whole world of problems, for you, for your club, and for whoever else is at that meet. You feel me?”
Anthony looked over at the younger kid, who was sweating and looking like he might pass out any second. Goddamn it, poor kid hadn’t signed up to go to war; he’d wanted to join a club and belong. That’s what the fucking brotherhood was all about—riding and having a family that would do anything for you. But he’d fallen in with the wrong side, and now he was going to pay for it. I hated this shit.
“I feel you, but I can’t do it, Jesse,” Anthony said, looking regretful. “We got orders to follow from our president, and those orders say it’s invite only.” He looked uncomfortable, despite his hard stance. I had to respect that; at least he showed loyalty and a backbone. Those were things you couldn’t teach a prospect. They either had it or they didn’t.
“Let’s just blow this shit to high hell,” Pipes snarled from next to me. “Brothers gotta be expecting it if they’re going to be disrespecting the Highwaymen like this.”
Anthony and the nervous prospect looked to one another, their fear pouring from them in bucket loads. Poor fucks.
I turned to Pipes. “Now just hang on a minute, Pipes. No need to start blowing shit up. I’m just talking to Anthony, and I’m pretty certain that we can come to an amicable solution that doesn’t involve anyone dying tonight.” I looked at Anthony, watching him white-knuckle the gun in his hands. Fucking hoped he had the safety on. “At least for now, right, Anthony?”
He grunted a yes, but his gaze was fixed on Pipes now, the real threat in his eyes. Good thing too. The two men were glaring at each other, and I had to hand it to the prospect—he’d make a good brother when he was fully patched in, because it was obvious that he wasn’t backing down for nothing. Well, he would if he lived that long that is.
I looked up to the left again, catching sight of a shadow moving from within the building, the small sliver of moonlight reflecting back of the eyepiece of a sniper. A sniper that was aimed on us.
The whole thing was worse than I’d first realized. If we had guns on us on either side we were pretty much fucked, but there was still a chance. But this was snipers. That was some serious shit right there. And it spoke volumes to me about the sort of men we were dealing with. Because that wasn’t the Rev’s way.
I looked back to the prospects, noting that Anthony had seen my stare. He almost looked relieved, like he’d been hoping I’d notice someone was up there.
“All right, brothers,” I said finally, making my decision. “We’re leavin’.”
“Jesse?” Pipes said my name, his voice tinged with total confusion. A Highwayman never backed down from a fight, yet there we were driving away with our tails between our legs. Or at least that’s what it looked like.
“It’s all right, brother. Gotta trust me on this one,” I replied calmly, hoping he’d follow my orders, because if he didn’t we were all going down. No sense dying for nothing. I was in this for the long game, and we’d achieve nothing if we opened up on those prospects then. If anything, it could be more damaging to our club.
“The Highwaymen don’t fear, but the world should fear the Highwaymen,” Pipes quoted our motto to me as he turned to glare at me, and I wanted to punch the stupid fuck in the head. Who did he think he was, quoting my own shit back to me? I knew the words, and I knew what they meant. Damn things were etched into my skin, right across my back. But at the moment this was bigger than just standing up to a couple of pissant prospects.
Every inch of me was vibrating with the urge to break some bones, but it was more important to hold my shit together right then so I gritted my teeth and glared back at Pipes, waiting for the stupid fuck to back down. Man didn’t know who he was talking to if he thought that shit was okay.
“Okay,” Dom said, taking the lead. “You heard Jesse, now let’s get the fuck out of here then.”
“Tell me one thing,” I said to Anthony as my brothers turned their bikes around.
Anthony nodded his head, relief flooding his features.
“What’s the name of the club back there?”
Anthony smiled, like he had been waiting for the question. He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to me. “Been told to give you that,” he said.
I shoved it in my pocket, none too pleased with how things had turned out, but someone was in those buildings to our left and right and I didn’t feel like dying without finding out what the hell was going on. For the sake of my club, I’d sort this shit out.
“I’ll be seeing you, Anthony,” Pipes said, looking back over his shoulder, his deep voice gravelly and full of unspent rage.
I took one last look over my shoulder before we sped back off the way we’d come in. About a mile down the road I pulled over to one side and my brothers followed suit. I climbed off my bike and walked over to Pipes before reaching out and dragging him from his bike. He clawed at my hands and kicked out, but I threw him to the ground and pulled out my gun before aiming it at his head.
“Stay down!” I growled out as he attempted to get back up.
Dom and Casa flanked me, their guns out too. Max sat on his bike looking like he was about to piss himself and completely unsure what the hell he was supposed to do.
I kicked Pipes in the ribs and he groaned and curled up in a ball. I slammed my foot into his side three more times and then stopped. He slowly uncurled from his ball and looked up at me, hate and rage burning through his gaze.
With my gun still aimed at his head, I spoke clearly and calmly. “I’m the motherfuckin’ enforcer of the Devil’s Highwaymen. What I say goes, you hear me, brother?”
Pipes nodded and I sneered down at him.
“You ever fuckin question my authority again and I’ll put a bullet in your brain. You feel me?”
“Yeah,” he groaned, the anger finally retreating from his face.
I reached down, my hand outstretched to him, and he gripped it and allowed me to pull him back up to his feet. I pulled him in and patted him on his back before pulling away. One hand reached around his waist to cradle his bruised ribs. I’d kicked him hard, but not enough to break anything—just enough to teach him a lesson.
“This shit is bigger than what we thought,” I said, looking across at my brothers. “Anyone else spot the sniper in the building?”
“A sniper? You serious?” Casa asked, pulling out his cigarettes and lighting one.
Dom let out a heavy breath and shook his head. “You think that fucker the Reverend is in bed with the heat?”
I shrugged. “Not sure, but I know I wasn’t getting us all killed without knowing exactly who was shooting us in the back. That shit won’t do the club any good.” I pulled out the piece of paper that Anthony had given me and unfolded it. I read it twice and then handed it to Dom.
“Who the fuck are the Razorbacks?” he said, handing the paper to Casa.
“The Razorbacks will be expecting a thirty percent cut of all Highwaymen profits delivered to—” Casa looked up at me. “What the hell is this bullshit?”
“The start of a war, brother,” I replied. I turned away and pulled my cell out and called Hardy. Because he needed to know right then what the hell was going down. His cell rang seven times before it went to voicemail and I hung up.
When I turned back around my brothers were standing by their bikes and watching me expectantly. But I had no idea what to tell them. Hardy wou
ld be pissed that we’d walked away, but he’d be even more pissed at the idea that someone was giving out orders to us.
“What now?” Pipes asked, his arm still around his ribs.
I used my cell to call Beefcake, the president of the West Side Bangers. He picked up on the second ring.
“Jesse fuckin’ James, as I live and breathe. What can I do for you, brother?” he drawled down the phone.
Beefcake was a sound enough man, and he ran his club like a well-oiled machine. If something was going down in his area, he’d know what. I’d only ever met him once, but he’d treated me with respect, and clearly he had a good memory.
“Me and a couple of brothers are in town. Needing some hospitality for the night, if that’s good with you?” I asked.
“Got a party going down tonight. Brothers just got out of DOC after a dime, but you and your boys are more than welcome to come and join in the celebrations, as long as you aren’t bringing trouble to my door. Not tonight.” I listened to Beefcake walking, the crunch of gravel underfoot and the music fading as he walked outside.
“No trouble, but I do need to discuss business with you. Some shit is going down in your area that I think you should know about.” I turned back to my brothers and nodded to them and they all climbed on their bikes.
“All right, we’ll discuss it when you get here, then we’ll party,” Beefcake replied, his voice serious.
“We’ll be there soon,” I replied and hung up. I climbed on my bike and started it up. “The West Side Bangers are sharing their hospitality for the night while we deal with whatever shit this is. Brother of theirs just got out after a ten-year stretch, so it’s a celebration. Bit of an awkward time, but I’ll discuss it with Beefcake when we get there.”
My brothers nodded and we pulled away, heading toward the clubhouse of the West Side Bangers. I wasn’t happy about leaving there without getting into the meet, but at least we knew the name of this other club. Now we just needed to know what their fucking play was going to be, because cutting us out of business and demanding a percentage of our taking wasn’t going to go down well. For them, or for us.
Chapter eleven:
1990
Jesse
Butch strutted through the room, proudly wearing his cut that now bore the colors of our club. Asshole was being a smug son of a bitch about it, too—not that he didn’t deserve it, of course.
Two bitches walked over to him, one standing on either side to drape themselves across him, and he reached down to grab their little asses in their tiny hot pants and squeeze painfully tight. They both squealed but leaned further into him, giggling even louder.
“All right, brothers,” Hardy called, coming to stand in the middle of the room. He pulled out his knife and tapped it against his bottle of beer. “Ring-a-ding-ding, fuckers!” he bellowed louder, until the room went silent, barring the pounding music, and everyone turned to look at him. “Let’s give a Highwaymen welcome to our latest fully patched-in brother, my boy—Butch.” He turned to look at Butch, an actual smile on his face—the first I’d seen in a long time. Shit, maybe ever.
The Highwaymen all cheered loudly, raising their beers to the air and calling Butch’s name, and I couldn’t help but find a smile and I raised my beer also. Butch was my brother and I loved him more than anyone else in the whole damn world—not that I’d tell the stupid fuck that, of course. He’d been working his ass off as a prospect for a long time to get this honor, and now it was his. He was a full member of the Devil’s Highwaymen. Not only that, but Hardy had made him Road Captain for the club since Eight-Ball had been sent down and wouldn’t be seeing the sun for a long fucking time. Poor bastard.
“I couldn’t be any prouder of you, boy,” Hardy continued, moving toward him.
The two bitches took a step to one side to allow Hardy to pull Butch into a hug that shocked all of us. When he pulled out he dragged a hand over Butch’s head and ruffled his hair like he was a little fucking kid. Shit was weird to watch, but Butch was basking in the attention, and rightly so. Hardy was a hard man and he never showed affection, of any sort. Bet the sorry son of a bitch was stony-faced even when he was fucking. Hadn’t when we were boys and it was unlikely he would now that we were men—except today.
“Let’s fucking party!” Hardy called, laughing and walked away from Butch, heading toward Silvie, his old lady.
The other brothers cheered, and then some dumbass put a thumb over the neck of his beer and shook it until it started to foam and spray and then he aimed it at Butch, covering both him and the two bitches that had sidled back up to him in frothy, warm beer.
The girls screamed and Butch rubbed the beer over their bodies before leaning into kiss one of them on the mouth. Dom, Butch’s best friend, was in a foul fucking mood and he stormed through the clubhouse and out the front door. I laughed and looked away, heading back to the bar to grab another beer. I downed what I had and set the bottle on the counter, and Rose handed me another one with a smile.
“He’s a good man,” Rose said, and I raised an eyebrow at her. “Butch,” she clarified, pouring herself a shot of tequila and throwing it to the back of her throat. “He’ll make a great old man for some lucky bitch one day.” She smiled and walked away.
I turned back around, leaning on the bar with my elbows, and watched as Butch dragged the two giggling bitches into the back room. Casa walked over to me, pulling up his zipper as he did. Hadn’t seen him all night, but I had no doubts on where he had been.
“Gimme a beer,” he called to Rose, and she obliged, giving her usual smile. Woman was a goddamned saint to put up with our shit. Beautiful, too. Casa leaned over and clinked his bottle against mine. “Cheers, brother.”
“Yeah,” I said, giving him a nod.
“Butch sure knows how to party,” he said, taking a long swallow of beer. “I swear some bitch almost sucked me dry back there—mouth like a vacuum! Thought she was going to swallow my balls whole at one point! Where the fuck does he even find them?” He laughed and nudged my elbow and I laughed with him.
“Everyone loves Butch.” I grinned. “Fucker could talk a nun into putting out. I remember him taking me out to a party up near Smoke Rise, and as soon as he walked in it was like the prime pussy was released from somewhere and the dried-up old bitches scattered like cockroaches,” I laughed. “Fucker had me join my first train that night.”
Casa laughed loudly. “Like I said, man knows how to party, that’s for damn sure.”
I grinned and nodded before taking a swig of my beer. We both looked up as the door to the clubhouse opened and Gauge walked in, followed closely by his daughter, Laney. Casa nudged me, almost making me fall over, and then he burst into laughter as I almost spilled my beer down myself. Goddamn fucking idiot.
“Pussy-whipped and you ain’t even got any yet.” He laughed harder.
“Fuck off.”
“Too many offers to fuck bitches to find time to fuck myself, brother,” he snorted.
“Offers from your mama!” I bit out.
Casa stopped laughing and scowled at me. “That shit’s just disrespectful.”
“That’s what your mama said, you pussy!” I flashed him a grin and strutted over to where Laney was. Pretty sure he called me something, but I drowned his voice out in favor of taking in Laney’s beautiful figure. She was wearing something different from her usual denim cutoffs and tee that night—a lacy, white, figure-hugging dress that skimmed her golden thighs. Course, she still wore her little black ankle boots. Her hair was up on top of her head in one of those weird knot things that women wore, and I had the urge to reach over and let it down. Not that the look didn’t suit her—it did, anything would fucking suit her—but there was something about the way her dark hair sashayed over her back that always turned me on.
“Keep an eye on her tonight, Jesse, she’s feelin’ particularly bitchy,” Gauge said, patting me on the shoulder.
“Go fuck a cow!” Laney snapped back.
“C
unt!”
“Limp dick!”
Gauge looked between us both and shook his head before walking away, grumbling something under his breath. Things were not getting any easier between them. If anything, they were getting worse. Little did Gauge know that soon enough Laney wouldn’t be his problem, but mine. I smiled at the thought.
“I hate him,” she said, still watching after him.
“Ain’t no secret about that.” I grinned.
Her cheeks flushed pink at the sight of me, and I could tell she was restraining herself from smiling. She brushed her hands down her dress nervously and I watched appreciatively. Goddamn, she looked beautiful. Could only imagine what she would feel like wrapped around me—at least for the time being.
“You wanna beer?” I asked and she nodded and smiled again. Beautiful. Fucking beautiful.
We headed to the bar and Rose popped open a beer and slid it over as we got close. “Looking real pretty tonight, Laney.”
Laney blushed and looked down at herself, and that time there was no mistaking that she was trying to hold back a smile. “Thanks, Rose, just something I threw on, nothing special.”
“Really? Well, darlin’ you scrub up good. Ain’t that right, Jesse?”
Both women turned to look at me and I had to hold back on my eagerness to reply. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen Laney look anything but good,” I said, looking between the two women.
Rose’s eyes sparked with mischievousness. “Well, that goes without saying,” she replied.
Laney picked up her beer and cleared her throat loudly before taking a swig, and I could barely tear my gaze away from her damp lips wrapped around the end of the bottle. I shifted uncomfortably, needing to rearrange my junk but thinking better of it. Pussy-whipped before I’d even gotten any. Casa was fucking right.
I turned to Laney. “You wanna go for a walk?”
“Sure,” she replied, tucking a loose piece of hair behind her ear. Christ on a bike, even her ears were beautiful. How was that even possible? “See you later, Rose,” Laney said as I placed my hand on the bottom of her back and started to guide her away.
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