Making The Cut (Selective Sinners MC #1)

by S. D. Hildreth

  “That’s right. Tell her Ol’ Slice is here,” I said, attempting to force myself to grin.

  Sloan stood in the doorway and stared as she pressed her upper arms into the sides of her tits.

  “Ol’ Slice?” she giggled.

  Step aside, you nasty bitch.

  Sick and tired of dealing with Sloan and her two twins, I stepped past where she was standing and into the apartment, being careful not to brush against her when I did. A few well-placed steps and I stood at the bedroom with the door closed.

  I gazed over my shoulder, “The one with the door closed?”

  Buy some clothes that fit, you big bitch.

  “Yeah, that’s it,” she responded as she dug her thumbs into the waistband of her sweats, lowering them even more.

  I rolled my eyes and turned around. I slowly turned the door handle and pushed it open. The room was pitch black. I flipped on the light switch and stared into the small room. Sure enough, Avery was fast asleep in her bed. Otis was right, she was gorgeous. After admiring her for a moment, I paused, turned off the lights, and closed the door.

  As I turned to face the living room, I noticed Sloan had taken a seat in front of the couch. Sitting in the chair with her legs crossed and her heels in front of her crotch, she looked up and grinned. Although they weren’t when I arrived, her nipples were now as hard as rocks and appeared to be attempting to poke completely through the light fabric of her ribbed wife beater. Without speaking, I walked past her and to the front door.

  As I reached for the door handle, she was already standing behind me. Quickly, I stepped through the door and onto the porch. As I turned around, I was greeted by a smile and her increasingly growing nipples.

  Horny bitch...

  “Tell her Slice came by. I’ll see her tomorrow,” I sighed.

  “Okay, Slice,” she grinned as she ran her thumbs along the waist of the sweats, lowering them enough to expose the top band of her orange panties.

  I blinked my eyes and chuckled to myself.

  I’ll make sure you get an invite to the barbeque. I’ll have half a dozen Sinners with big cocks waiting to gang bang your dumb ass.

  “You like barbeque?” I asked.

  “What do you mean?” she shrugged, pressing her upper arms into her tits.

  “Meat, Sloan. You ever heard of barbeque? Ribs, brisket, hot links, chicken? Cook the shit over a grill and eat it? Fucking barbeque?”

  “Oh, yeah. I freaking love it, why?”

  “Well, we have a club barbeque coming up. I’ll make sure you’re invited. It might give you a chance to meet a few of the fellas. How’s that sound?”

  “Sounds freaking awesome,” she giggled.

  “Consider it done,” I nodded.

  I turned, walked down the stairs, and laughed to myself as I considered what Avery told me about Sloan. She really, really, really likes cock; the bigger the better. I threw my leg over the bike and thought of Pete holding her down while Hollywood shoved her twat full of cock and Toad shoved his down her throat. There was something about Sloan I didn’t like, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. I was pretty damned sure having the fellas fuck her senseless would make me feel a little better about being forced to look at her in the future. I glanced over my shoulder at the lick ‘n stick seat on my rear fender. If there was one thing I detested, it was a seat on my bike without someone sitting on it. I sighed, reached up to the ape hangers and rested my hands on the grips. I fired up the bike and considered going back to the shop and tossing the seat in the cabinet. As the sound of the exhaust echoed throughout the parking lot, I pulled in the clutch and kicked the bike into gear.

  Hell, Axton, you won’t be able to sleep anyway.

  There was one man in Wichita who may be able to shed some light on the Mexicans trying to rob us. If there was ever a man who slept less than me, it would be him. I glanced over my shoulder at the seat.

  I suppose it won’t hurt anything to leave it on there until tomorrow.

  I nodded my head, forcing my glasses down onto the bridge of my nose, and grabbed a handful of throttle. I figured this late at night I could probably make it there in ten minutes. I just needed to make a quick stop and get one person to go with me.

  The man who never sleeps.

  AXTON

  At three o’clock in the morning, a person knows for certain just how loud his bike really is. At any time of the day, my bike was loud enough to trigger car alarms, and wake the dead. This early in the morning in a neighborhood full of three million dollar homes, my bike was loud enough to get the cops called pretty damned quickly. I shoved my cell phone into my pocket and waited for the gates to open. As they began to swing apart, I held my left hand out with my palm flat, motioning to proceed slowly. Traveling at part throttle was still louder than a horrible thunderstorm, but as quiet as we could possibly be. As I rolled up to the third house on the right, I raised my left arm and motioned into the driveway.

  After riding up the long angled driveway, it finally flattened out in front of the house. I killed the engine and quietly rolled in front of the porch. Appearing more like a mansion than a conventional Kansas home, I stared at the huge stone pillars on either side of the front porch. Not my style, but definitely an ornate entry. There was probably only one home like this in the world where I would truly feel comfortable, and this was it. As Toad killed his engine and rolled up beside me, I looked over my shoulder in his direction.

  He shook his head as he stared at the front of the home, “You shittin’ me, Slice? Are we at the right place?”

  “Yep, this is it,” I nodded.

  The front door opened and King stepped out onto the porch. Six foot tall and built like a professional football player, his cleanly shaved head and goatee made him an intimidating man in appearance. Dressed in a silk robe and slippers, however, he looked as if he belonged in the ritzy neighborhood. Knowing his background, the amount of time he had spent in prison, and his manner of earning the money he used to buy the home, I chuckled at the sight of him.

  “Nice robe, King,” I laughed.

  “Get your tired asses up here and in the house,” he said as he waved toward the open front door.

  “Place like this makes me nervous,” Toad whispered.

  “You won’t be for long. King’s one solid ass dude,” I said as I stepped off the bike.

  As we followed King into the home, it was apparent he had spared no expense in building the house or decorating it. A large screen Television on the wall in the kitchen had eight split screens depicting various portions of the facility and grounds. Considering the fact it was three in the morning, it was obvious they were taken with infrared cameras. Leave it up to King to take every precaution in making sure he was not being robbed, watched, or eavesdropped on; at least not without him seeing it happen.

  “So, a visit from the Sinners makes me nervous. A visit at three am by the President himself makes me really God damned nervous. To what do I owe this visit, Slice?” he asked.

  “I’ll get to that in a minute. King, this is Toad. Toad’s a six tour Marine; fought in Afghanistan and Iraq both. Toad, this is Mr. King, but we leave off the mister, don’t we King?”

  “That we do, there’s no mister in front of my name. Good God damn, six fucking tours? Hell, I know now why Slice brought you. I have a soft spot in my heart for men who keep my country free. I appreciate your service, Toad. I see you’re flying the colors of a Sinner. Wise choice, if I do say so myself,” King nodded as he extended his hand.

  Toad shook his hand and nodded his head sharply, “I appreciate it. Just doing my job.”

  King cleared his throat as he released Toad’s hand, “Go sell that humble shit to someone stupid enough to buy it. I’m part gook, part nigger, part Mexican, and part who fucking knows what, but I’m not a dumb man, Toad. If you fought in six tours as a Marine, you did so because you believed in what you were doing, and I appreciate it.”

  “Thank you,” Toad said flatly.

&
nbsp; “Slice,” King said as he turned and shook my hand.

  “King,” I nodded.

  “So. Have a seat, gentlemen. What can I get you to drink?” he asked.

  “I’m straight,” Toad said.

  “Same,” I agreed.

  “Alright then. Well, I was up watching Denzel Washington in The Equalizer when you called. Hell, it’s over now. Have you seen that one yet?” he asked.

  I shook my head.

  “That motherfucker took care of business. I like it when a man does that. It keeps everyone honest. So, as I asked before, to what do I owe this visit?” King asked as he sat down in a huge chair that resembled an upholstery covered throne.

  I sat across from him on a large couch and Toad sat beside me on the loveseat. I had brought Toad along for the exact reason King imagined. It was no secret King admired military men, especially if a man had actually seen combat. I didn’t think I needed to make King feel indebted to the club, but having Toad along would convince him in some respects to provide whatever information he could to assist us.

  I turned to face King and rubbed my hands against my thighs, “We did a deal with a local MS-13 clique…”

  “Stop right there,” King said as he stood from his chair.

  “Do you know who you’re fucking with?” he asked as he began to pace the room.

  I nodded my head sharply, “Sure do. Let me finish, it’s not what you think. We’re good with them, it’s something else. Or at least I think it is.”

  “Those motherfuckers make me nervous, and nobody makes me nervous,” King sighed.

  I stood from my seat and faced King, “Well, let me tell you what happened. I’ll take your opinion on it, and I’ll let you nose around and see what you can find out. I know you know people we don’t, and I need all the help I can get here.”

  “Sit down, Slice. Son-of-a-bitch, a deal with MS-13? Alright, let’s hear it,” King said as he sat down in his throne.

  As King sat, I began to speak and sat back down on the edge of the couch, “So, Corndog is damned near done doing his time. He’s got in tight with some Mexicans in prison, the south siders from LA. One thing led to another, and they learned we deal in weapons. After a little negotiation, I made a deal with some of the Mexicans on the outside who were affiliated with the fellas on the inside. We were hoping for a long-term relationship and some support or credibility from these guys. I felt if they supported the club, it’d make us a damned site stronger in everyone’s eyes. So, I made a deal. A hundred AK’s for sixty grand…”

  King’s eyes widened as he stood from his seat, “You sold a hundred AK-47’s for sixty grand to the Mexicans?”

  “Sure did.”

  He shook his head lightly, “First things first, El Presidente. Or maybe I should say El Stupido…”

  “I don’t speak Mexican, but I don’t think I like what you’re saying, King,” I chuckled.

  “Sixty grand? You gave those motherfuckers away. You know that, right?” he shrugged.

  I nodded my head, “I do. And I made sure they knew I knew. Also, I made an agreement in advance for the price on the second shipment if they wanted more.”

  “Hijo de la chingada. Shit, at that price, I’ll take a few hundred. Jesus, Slice. Go ahead, tell me the rest, I can’t wait to see where this went,” he sighed as he sat down again.

  “So, the club knows of the transaction. And, of course, MS-13’s people know, that’s it. No discussions with anyone else. We go to do the deal on the north side of town, the old abandoned grocery store over on Arkansas and thirty-second or whatever,” I paused as King nodded his head and raised his hand to his chin.

  “Well, we’re doing the deal, and Otis and I are loading the weapons into the truck. We’re in the back of a Ryder moving van, and the Mexicans are in the back of the truck. We’re just sliding the crates to the Mexicans and they’re humping ‘em into the truck. We’re parked tailgate to tailgate. I can’t see shit because it’s dark as fuck, and we’re down to the last crate.”

  I stood from my seat and began to pace the living room.

  “So I heard something, and I started walking to the front of the van. I thought it was a truck out in the street, but it seemed closer than that. And I heard the Mexicans talking a hundred miles an hour. And although I got no fucking idea what they’re saying, I know they ain’t happy. Anyway, I get to the door of the van, and some fucking beaner points a Street Sweeper at Otis and me, and starts screaming. Another one has a gun on the two Mexicans in the back of the truck, but he ain’t saying shit.”

  I turned to face King. Leaning back in his chair with his eyebrows raised, he sat quietly; ready for me to finish the story. As if waiting for the punchline to a joke, he raised his hand to his chin and grinned as he crossed his legs.

  “So, now let me back up. It was brought to my attention that my contact was not an English speaking Mexican, so I took someone to interpret for me. And she was standing outside by the Mexican’s truck.”

  King uncrossed his legs and stared my direction, “You took a girl to do a gun deal with the MS-13?”

  “She was my only option, King.”

  “You could have called me,” he responded.

  I turned my palms up and shrugged, “I didn’t think of it. I’m damned near done, let me get through this.”

  “So, after this beaner gets mad, maybe two or three minutes of screaming for us to give him the money, he’s done. He starts screaming he wants it now. But Otis and I got no idea what he wants, ‘cause we don’t speak Spanish. I can’t pull my piece, and Otis can’t pull his, we got our hands up at our chests, and we’re wearing fucking jackets. About this time I hear two quick gunshots. The beaner drops the Street Sweeper, and it discharges into the parking lot. I jump out, and see him and another on the ground. My girl is standing there with her Glock, shaking like she’s shittin’ stickers. The MS-13 who does speak English tells me these guys aren’t his people, and I say prove it. Now at this time, they’re both on the ground but they’re not dead. He shoots one of the guys in the back, and then blows his head clean off. I shoot the other one. He drags them to the side, we shake hands, and it’s over,” I paused and turned to face King.

  “So my questions are one, who were these motherfuckers? And two, how did they know?”

  King stood from his chair and shook his head, “Did your girl know where you were meeting?”

  “Nope.”

  “Did your club?” he asked.

  “Yep,” I nodded.

  He raised his hand to his mouth and stared down at the floor for a moment. He looked up and narrowed his eyes, “Did the two you were dealing with before the other two showed up have any MS tats? You know those fuckers always seem to. Did they have any you could see?”

  “One had a number thirteen tattooed on his face, and the other had MS-13 tattooed on his neck. Clear as day, why?”

  “All those fuckers do; if they’re the real deal. They’ll have the tats right where you can see them; hands, face, head, neck, forearms. They don’t hide the shit. It’s a pride thing. If they didn’t, I’d say it was a set-up from the start. But, if they did, they’re real MS. If someone has the tats and they aren’t affiliated, MS will cut their heads off and toss them up on the hood of a car for show. I did time with those crazy pricks in the joint. Okay, so the fellas you were dealing with were legit. Now, the other two, the deceased, did they have any tats?” he asked.

  I crossed my arms and thought, “Not MS, no.”

  “And at the time the other two show up, you’ve already got the money and the guns are loaded in the Mexicans truck. They come to the truck and ask for the money? They didn’t try and take the guns?”

  “Correct.”

  “Well, here’s my opinion, knowing what I know about MS-13. There isn’t a Mexican on the entire planet who would rob the MS-13 knowing they were MS-13. They might on accident, but definitely not if they knew who they were. So, these two ladrones show up, but they didn’t come to rob them, the
y came to rob you. Sounds like they knew which direction the sale was going too, the more I think about it. Hell, you wouldn’t roll up on a deal like that and know who was loading and who was unloading. If they came to you asking for the money, so they knew you had it. You said the guy at the Mexican’s truck was quiet? Not making demands? Well, that sums it up. They came for the money, and they knew the direction of the deal. Make sense?”

  I nodded my head slowly, “Makes sense. Yeah, they guy at the truck didn’t say shit that I heard. The guy at our van just started screaming. The girl told me later he was saying, where is the money?”

  King raised his hands in the air, “Well, if he started screaming, where is the money right out of the gate, he knew.”

  I uncrossed my arms and glanced at Toad, and then back toward King, “I guess that brings us to the same question. Did the tip come from them or from the Sinners? I might need a little help nosing around here, King. Someone in this city knows who those two were, and you know everybody. So, I’m asking for you to do me a solid on this deal. See if you can find out who they were. That’s all. I should be able to make a connection from there.”

  “I’ll do that. Let me see what I can find out. Now, I sure as fuck can’t tell you how to run your business, but consider this, Slice,” King paused and pointed at Toad.

  “Does anyone short of Otis and Toad know about this deal and how it went?” he asked.

  “Just the girl,” I shrugged.

  He opened his arms and nodded his head, “Act like the deal went without a hitch, like it was perfect. Don’t tell a fucking soul what really happened. See if anyone says anything or asks questions. See if someone acts out of place. But don’t say one word about the attempted robbery. And start looking into if there’s a member who has financial problems or a sick wife, kid, or relative. You know, someone who needs money and might be desperate. A desperate man acts out of desperation. Leave no one out of your in-house investigation. Hell, start with your boy Toad. Oh, and one more thing…”

  “Don’t be surprised if your contact with MS-13 doesn’t call you first with the names and background information of the two dead Mexicans. They won’t take an attempted robbery lightly. To them, it’ll all be about respect. And he’ll look at it as disrespectful to you, and in turn, to him. He’ll dig around, you can bet on that.”