by K E Osborn
“Help me get Ghost and the prospects in the truck, Crash,” I yell as I race back to Ghost and lean down grabbing his shoulders. Fucker’s heavy! Crash grabs his legs and we lift him to the back of the truck. His body thuds against the metal of the tray and I cringe wishing it was anyone but Ghost. But I don’t have time to mourn right now. The 5113ers could come back at any second and with more numbers. We gotta sprint!
We hike Alex and Jake into the van as Jigsaw grabs what’s left of the duffle bags containing the drugs and hands them to Crash just as he closes the back door of the truck.
“The drugs are like water, rare and beautiful and if you—”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake Jigsaw. Enough with the riddles. Let’s get the fuck outta here!” I yell.
He nods and Crash gets back into the truck while I jump onto my Hog. Feeling the cool metal between my legs helps my spiking heart rate ease a notch. Being on the back of a bike is like an instant relaxer.
“Go!” Jigsaw yells. That’s the only words that have made sense in the last five years I’ve known him.
I kick start my bike, the engine roars to life as I turn back and look at the smoldering warehouse and the carnage of the bodies left inside. I can’t help a smile that forms across my face.
“See you in hell, fuckers!” I turn around and the wind eases the burn on my cheek as I ride off watching the moon rising over the foothills toward the clubhouse where I was raised. My life, my home.
Back to The Satan’s Savages Motorcycle Club.
My cheek is fucking burning from the graze of the bullet as I ride along the street to the clubhouse set on the outskirts of Virginia in Adelaide, South Australia. My heart is still hammering in my chest from the God damned blood bath that just went down at the warehouse in the foothills.
Chez’s men will pay for this, of that I am very sure! Veering right my Hog roars as I hammer down and turn up the driveway toward the clubhouse gates. Jigsaw is flanked to my right and Crash is behind me in the truck as the vast clubhouse comes into view. Just seeing my home simmers my temper a notch.
Gatekeeper looks down to see me and Jigsaw approaching and starts to slide open the giant mesh and corrugated iron gates. The rusted metal screeching and moaning is so loud I can hear it over the noise of my Hog. Gatekeeper jumps down from his lookout post and walks across to me as I slow my ride down and enter through the rusted entrance over the concrete drive.
“Ghost?” Gatekeeper calls out.
I swallow hard remembering the bullet wound to my VP’s chest and shake my head.
Gatekeeper winces and smacks his fist on the gate hard as I drive through and up to the compound to park my bike. I need to get off my ride so I can go and talk to Dad and fill him in on what went down. He’s going to be devastated that we’ve lost Ghost, and the two prospects. Not to mention that the one consistent drug line we had coming in has now turned on us. Fuckers!
Cassius and Shogun come running up to my bike and I half smile. Seeing the two Rottweilers cheers me up some. My mother Amelia bought them for my father and me when I was fourteen. Cassius is mine, he’s grown up with me and been here at the club all his life. He serves as a guard dog, but sometimes comes inside and hangs out with my brothers and me. I’ve had him for ten years, so he’s getting on a bit, but I wouldn’t trade him for anything.
I duck walk my ride back into its position and turn off the motor. Taking off my lid, I place it on the handlebars and run my hand through my sweaty hair and exhale taking a moment to just breathe. Leaning down, I pet Cassius on the head as he nuzzles into my leg while Jigsaw pulls in next to me and pulls off his lid. I turn to look at him and shake my head.
“That was intense.”
“Tense is merely past, present and future,” Jigsaw says in his usual riddle, and I raise my eyebrow trying to work out what he means but, as usual, I’m drawing a blank.
He moves off of his Hog as I continue to stare at him and he looks back at me and smiles. “Fun, ja?” he asks smiling brightly and I huff and shake my head. This guy’s such an oddball, it’s no wonder he can do what he does for the club. He didn’t get the name Jigsaw because he’s a mysterious puzzle.
I move off my bike and stretch my muscles, they ache from the stress of being so tense over the last hour and I start the short walk from the compound to the clubhouse. Cassius and Shogun following closely behind. Jigsaw pulls off his leather gloves, and I move my head from side to side trying to release some of the tension from my aching neck.
I pull back the large, heavy black door leading into the clubrooms, and as usual, music is playing The heavy rock beats of ‘Black Dog’ by Led Zeppelin ring through the speakers and the beers are flowing. The club doesn’t know what went down, so it’s business as usual in here. Walking in, Techie is at the long wooden bar that lines the entire wall to the right. Lookout is playing pool with Behemoth at the pool table in the middle of the room and various other club members are sitting at the scattered tables drinking and eating their dinner. They all look up as Jigsaw and I walk in, and they don’t bother to ask how it went because the drug swaps always run smoothly.
Except for tonight.
“Where’s the Prez?” I call out.
Everyone looks up and Lookout gestures with his head to the assembly room. I nod and walk with Jigsaw toward the room where we always have church.
“Hey, where’s Ghost and my prospects?” Lookout asks and I look at him and shake my head. He furrows his brows and stands up taller and it’s only now that I have the full attention of the room.
“What the fuck?” Lookout asks.
“I need to talk to the Prez then we’ll fill you all in. Sorry Lookout looks like you’ll be lookin’ for two new prospects.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” I hear him murmur as I push on the unwieldy wooden doors without knocking and walk into the assembly room to see Dad, who happens to be President of the Satan’s Savages MC Club. Chops, his right-hand man and Dad are lounging back with their feet up on the large wooden table talking and smoking cigars.
“You heard of knocking kid?” Dad asks as he smirks and then looks at the frown on my face. He follows suit as Jigsaw and I walk in closing the doors behind us. “What’s goin’ on? How’d the handover go?”
I exhale and swallow hard. “You’re not gonna like it.”
He leans back taking his feet off the table and sits up straight. “What’s the deal?”
Pulling out a seat, I sit down and Jigsaw follows. “The 5113ers turned Prez. The deal went south. They came in all guns-a-blazin’… They took out the prospects—”
“Fuck!” Dad runs his hand through his long grey beard and places his cigar down in the ashtray on the table. The foul odour of the cigar is making my stomach churn. He looks at me and squints his eyes. “What happened to your cheek?”
I bring my hand up to the scrape and wince as I touch the congealed blood. “Grazed by a bullet.”
He stands up so forcefully his seat falls backward on the floor and he starts to pace the room. “Fuckin’ hell. You nearly had your face blown off, kid!” he says moving over, pulling me up from the seat, and hauling me in for a tight hug. I roll my eyes knowing that the thought of losing another son for Dad is difficult, but he doesn’t need to show his emotions in front of two of our brothers.
“Shit! Prez, ease up,” I say pushing him away from me. “I’m fine. It barely touched me. Plus, I have some bad news.”
He pulls back completely and huffs staring at the graze on my cheek.
“Prez, are you listenin’?”
He finally looks up and nods. “Yes, what it is?”
I exhale and slump my shoulders. “Ghost.”
His eyes open wide and he glares. “What about Ghost?”
Cracking my neck to the side I know this isn’t going to go down well. “He didn’t make it.”
Chops pulls his feet from the desk and stands abruptly as Dad turns away from me, his chest heaving. I place my hand on his shoulder in an attem
pt to comfort him, but he shrugs out of my grip. I know he’ll be hurting, Ghost was one of his oldest friends. They patched in together, they were Virginia Originals and part of the First 7. They basically brought this club up to what it is today… together. The club doesn’t know how to exist without Ghost.
“Fuuuck,” Dad yells picking up the nearest chair and smashing it against the plasterboard wall. The wood of the chair splinters into tiny pieces, bursting around the room in a frenzy as he repeatedly hits the wood against the wall. The plasterboard begins to crack under the sheer force. All the while he groans and yells in his mad fury as the rest of us stand here watching Dad release his rage. The chair disintegrates until all he’s holding is a stake. His heaving chest is the only noise echoing through the room.
“Prez.”
“What!” He raises the stake at me like he’s going to smash me with it as I take a step toward him. His chest rising and falling so fast now while he tries to overcome the loss of his friend and brother.
“I’m sorry.” I step up to him, his arms flop to his side with the stake still in his hand. He exhales and snorts throwing the wood to the floor.
“Was it quick at least?” he murmurs.
I nod before he exhales. Pulling out the nearest intact seat and slumping into it, he rests his elbows on the table and his head in his hands. Jigsaw winces and shrugs his shoulders. He doesn’t register high on the emotional scale so he won’t understand all the fuss.
“Send out a hit on the entire 5113 gang. They need to pay for this!”
As much as I initially wanted that for the gang, now with a cooler head, I don’t think that it’s entirely wise. “I don’t think that’s the best plan of action here. Chez, their leader, is dead. They’ll be gunnin’ for us, too. If we go in without a plan of attack, we could all be wiped out. We need to think about this.”
“I think Steel’s right, Prez. We need to not allow our emotions get in the way of this one. Think Mad Dog, don’t get revved up,” Chops says as I look at him and nod subtly. He tilts his head back to me.
“Heighten emotions ride on the soul,” Jigsaw blurts out. We all turn to him and raise our eyebrows. He smiles brightly while I shake my head, turning back to Dad.
“So, we leave it until we have a plan… A solid plan?” I ask and Dad gazes back at me and nods.
“As much as I want to gut all of those fucking cunts like the weak minded ball sacks they are, you’re both right. I need to wait. In the meantime have the doc come to look at you kid. He should be able to fix your face up.”
Chops laughs. “Nothing can fix that face up.”
“Shut up fuck face! I’m gorgeous,” I tease putting on a feminine voice and flopping my hand in a limp way.
He chuckles and I even see a slight smile on Dad’s face. Putting my hand in my pocket, I pull out my phone and dial the number for Dr. Stevie Reynolds, our club doctor. I honestly don’t think my face needs any attention, but I know Dad, and he won’t let it go until I’m looked at.
The doc said I was fine, just needed some cleaning and a Band-Aid. He’s gone now, and I’m sitting on the bench seat just after finishing a burger and some fries. I was starving and needed some fat and carbs along with this massive stein of beer I’m guzzling down. I probably should get myself cleaned up from the bad deal gone fucked up. I’m covered in blood, mainly from the 5113er I stabbed with Wesley my Marauder Japanese steel knife. It’s because of Wesley that I got my road name ‘Steel.’ He’s my weapon of choice even though I carry a Glock at all times in my ankle boot.
Why Wesley? Because I had a thing for Blade the movie with Wesley Snipes. The blades in that film had me loving knives and swords, so I figured I’d call my first and favourite knife after the great Wesley Snipes.
Cassius is curled up at my feet as a belch rumbles up my chest and out my mouth while listening to the sounds of ‘Blue Monday’ by Orgy reverb through the sound system. Taking a deep breath, I look over to the door as it opens and the club girls walk in. Smiling widely, I see Skye strut her stuff, her platinum blonde hair cascading down over her shoulders. Wearing a tight and tiny white shirt that stops just under her tits showing off her stomach, and a pair of denim short shorts, her tattoos are on display perfectly. Her thighs covered in bright ink. Her left arm in a full black and grey sleeve and her face plastered with makeup. For someone who looks so slutty, she really is a nice chick. And a master at sucking cock.
Behind her walks Jess, the tough bitch and leader of the club girls. If you want someone to fight you on everything you say, Jess is your girl. But she knows the club rules and follows them just enough, pushing the boundaries every chance she can. Her obviously dyed mahogany hair is long, coming down past her tits as she wears even less than Skye in basically a bra and shorts. Her tattoos are all black and grey, and only on her left side going from the tips of her fingers all the way down to the tips of her toes. She’s the epitome of a bad girl and my bad boy brothers love her. She does things with ping pong balls you couldn’t even imagine!
Then my smile widens as in walks my Lunar. I say my Lunar, but she belongs to the club, not me. She’s my favourite, and the only club girl I go to these days. I know she still services the other guys, she has to, it’s the rules, but everyone knows she’s basically my girl. But she’s not just some arse for me, she’s also a friend. I respect her, she’s not like the other club girls. Yes, she might look like one with her long hair dyed pink at the top fading to yellow at the bottom. Her skinny, yet curvy figure sports her tattoos of coloured stars running up her left side. Annalise is her real name, but I gave her the nickname Lunar because of her tattoos—lots of stars. Star as a name seemed tacky, so I went with something solarish—Lunar. But she’s different. She’s not here just for the money and notoriety the club can offer you. Lunar loves the club. She wants to be an Old Lady one day. She lives for the club and it would take a lot to make her leave.
Spotting me she looks down at the blood on my white shirt and cut. Her brow furrows before she races over to me.
“Steel, what the fucking fuck?” she asks pushing the small table aside and sitting down on my lap running her hands through my hair and looking at the small Band-Aid on my face.
My hand runs up her thigh that’s only covered by tiny tight shorts and I move it up right between her legs. “I’m fine darlin’, just a scratch.”
“What the hell happened? Why are you covered in blood? Are you hurt under there?” she asks lifting up my shirt.
Chuckling I shake my head as she pulls it back down seeing there’s nothing but ink and sweat underneath the shirt. “Deal went bad. We lost Ghost and the prospects.”
She looks at me and her bottom lip trembles. “What?”
I smooth the hair back from her face, moving my hand to the back of her hair pulling her head to mine, kissing her to help ease her pain. Everyone loved Ghost. Even Alex and Jake, they were good kids. She slowly pulls back and I lick my lips tasting the alcohol she’s consumed tonight.
“Right! Whose fucking arse do I need to kick? Better yet, I’m going to find a red hot poker and singe their ball hair off and then make them eat it… then burn their nuts with a curling iron.”
I smirk at the serious look on her face. Her eyebrows are scrunched in tight and her lips pursed together firmly. She totally means business.
“Hey darlin’ I don’t want to get in the way of any ball burnin’, but maybe you should leave the torturin’ to Chops, hey? Wouldn’t want to mess up your pretty hair now would we?” She glares at me while pulling on the back of my hair. I smirk as she shakes her head.
“Fuck, you’re a prick sometimes, you know that?”
I open my eyes wide and scoff. “I said you were pretty, how did I fuck that up?”
She leers at me. “It’s the way you said it, arsehole. Now stop being a dickwaffle. Let’s get you back to your room and get you cleaned up, hey?”
I nod and smirk waggling my eyebrows up and down as I grab her legs and split them mak
ing her straddle me. She squeals and wraps her arms tighter around my neck as I grab her arse cheeks and stand up holding onto her. She giggles and wraps her legs around me. I look down to Cassius, who stood up at the same time I did and smile at him.
“Stay boy.” He whimpers but sits down. I look at Lunar, grip onto her arse tighter and start racing with her through the room down the hall to my bedroom. My brothers cheer and laugh as the pounding of my feet hit the hard concrete. The echo of her laughter bouncing off the hallway walls reverbs through me and makes me feel so much lighter. I get to my door and push her up against it. My cock is already growing hard against her sweet pussy. Leaning against her solidly, I press my lips to hers, her mouth opens and my tongue collides with hers. We kiss roughly, as I grind myself into her letting her know what’s going to be coming when we make it through the door. She moves her hand down and twists the handle, the door bursts open swinging back and hitting the wall.
Strutting inside I close the door with my foot, the wood groans at it slams against the frame. My mouth’s still locked on hers as I edge us toward the bathroom. My cock is straining inside my jeans so much so I feel like it might burst if I don’t let it out soon. I maneuver into the small bathroom and move over to the basin resting Lunar’s arse down on it. Her hands move quickly from around my neck down to my shoulders, they slide in under my cut and she shifts it off my shoulders. It cascades to the floor, all the while our tongues are still going hammer and tongs with each other.
Grinding my hips into her pussy, I groan as it reverbs up through my chest. She moves her hands down to my belt buckle and makes quick work undoing it just like she’s done so many times before. She’s a pro. I move my hands down to the hem of my shirt and lift the blood stained mess up over my head and throw it on the floor, and move back in grabbing her tiny pink top lifting it up over her head. Her pert tits spring free bouncing slightly and my cock twitches watching as her natural mounds fall against her ribcage. I groan and move in pulling her nipple into my mouth and tugging on it harshly with my teeth. She moans and runs her hand through my hair, grabbing and pulling on it hard. She knows I like it rough.
