Swallowing Mayhem

by James Cox

  “Don’t be an ass.” He slouched in his seat further. “You need friends in the club. I’m fucking branching out. Answer the damn question.”

  Was he ever not angry? “Yes,” I blurted. I was quiet as we turned another corner and headed down a busy block.

  “And? Tell me, motherfucker.”

  “Hey, you could be a little less like a prick.” Stupid to say but I was feeling a might bit annoyed.

  Mayhem grunted. “Pussy.”

  I rolled my eyes and focused on the road.

  “Fine.” He was staring out the window as he spoke. “Why did you join the club, Torrin?”

  It made me falter that he said my name, but I cleared my throat. There was a whole backstory that we created for the man I was supposed to be. Instead of reciting it, I found myself spewing the real thing. It came out before I could even think. “My father had slaves. I thought he treated them well but the older I got, the more I learned otherwise.”

  “The shithead still alive?”

  “Yup.” I couldn’t argue with his statement. My father was that. “I left after I saw him beat a kid because he broke a cup. It hadn’t been his fault. I was playing and bumped into him. But because the kid was dark-skinned, my father beat him.” It was all true, but I didn’t finish the story. Telling the entire tale was like a knife pressing into my chest over and over again. I skipped the kid’s fate. “After that day, I couldn’t look at him the same way. I found a way to be out of the house when he was home until I turned eighteen then moved out.” Then I joined the peacekeepers thinking I could make a difference but over the years I saw most of them thought the same way my father did. Maybe that’s why I was fraught. I ran away from him and into the arms of strangers just like him.

  “Been lost ever since?”

  I nodded. Mayhem was looking at me now. I pulled the truck into the parking lot beside Harley’s and turned in my seat. “Why do you do it?” I should have kept my mouth shut but, “Why do you fight them? Why do you risk your life against such big odds? Why do you kill?”

  Mayhem frowned. “We all have a past, a history that made us the way we are. Everyone in the club figured out that what the government is doing...it’s wrong. Someone needs to rise up and stop them. We took the bloody job.”

  “Why? Why did you?” I shouldn’t have singled him out.

  Mayhem looked at me closely, quietly, then spoke. “I was a rebellious little fuck.” He stared out the windshield at the city. “Always looking for trouble, for fights, for anything to give me that rush or piss off my old man.” He looked back at me. “I was sixteen when I started blowing things up. Small things, furniture, trees. My father thought that some prison time would do me good.”

  “He sent you to holding?”

  “My father didn’t half ass shit. He sent me to prison on Earth.”

  Well, fuck. That’s was harsh.

  “I guess he thought it’d knock some sense into me, get me out of this dangerous path.”

  “Didn’t work?” I twisted so I faced him.

  Mayhem gave me a slight twinge of his lips in an attempt to smile. “Met Outlaw and Lover there. When I came back, I went with them. They let me blow things up and I didn’t feel guilty about it afterward. They showed me wrong from right.”

  I glanced away, afraid the guilt would show on my face. Was I doing the right thing? Were the peacekeepers the good guys or the bad guys? I glanced back at him and he was watching me. It suddenly occurred to me that maybe this chat wasn’t about us at all. I narrowed my eyes. “The club made you ask me, didn’t they?”

  Mayhem’s blank expression dropped for a moment but at that moment, I saw surprise.

  “You don’t give a shit about me or my reasons for joining the club. You’re asking me to make sure I wasn’t the rat.” And here I thought we were bonding.

  “We all needed to get to know you better and they fucking volunteered me.” He opened the door. “Apparently, you like to stare at my ass.” Then he hopped out.

  I was alone in the truck with his words seemingly echoing in my head. That was bullshit! I jumped out and slammed the door shut. “I’m not staring at your ass. I’m not a homosexual,” I nearly shouted as I rounded the corner of the vehicle.

  Mayhem lifted a dark eyebrow. “Tell your dick that.”

  I glanced down. Okay, I may be hard and filling up my jeans but that didn’t mean I wanted to play ass buddies with him. I was undercover for fuck’s sake. “Was that story real? Your father, jail, right from wrong?” I asked as we started walking along the flat, red ground toward the store. Normally I stayed in the truck but this time I followed him.

  “Yup. All true.”

  Interesting. “You think there’s a thick line between right and wrong?”

  “I think a man having a master should only be for fucking. And I think women should have their choice about who they want between their legs.” He pulled a fresh cigar out of his jeans pocket and sniffed it. “I also think, you do stare at my ass a lot.” Mayhem opened the door to Harley’s shop.

  I was left staring at the back of him until the door closed. So what, I appreciated another man’s body form. That was all. Mayhem was tan skin over thick muscle. It was a natural reaction to appreciate his strength. That was all. There was nothing sexual about it. And the only reason for my tented pants was the fact that I hadn’t “handled my own business” since I went undercover. I explained everything away and then felt confident enough to enter the store.

  Harley’s was a one-story building at the edge of the city with a connecting garage. There were smaller businesses on the side of him and across the street but opposite his parking lot was a construction site. It was lit up now. After the peacekeeper building bombings, the government couldn’t sit back and ignore the problem. They decided to take an active role in these lawbreakers, which is why they put me undercover. There was a new bill being written up that would seriously limit the MC’s abilities.

  The door clicked shut behind me and the bright, sunny day was blocked out by the dimly lit room with only two small windows covered by holographic curtains. There were rows of shelves here with various hover tech parts. I followed a random aisle to the long counter that was toward the back of the store.

  “Get lost?” Mayhem asked.

  I ignored him.

  He was bringing the cigar up to his lips and that unique smell filled the air. It did not help my reasoning skills when my dick only grew harder.

  There was a rumble of noise from the back room and then Harley came out.

  I had a nagging suspicion that this guy wasn’t as innocent as he seemed. He sold parts, but a few peacekeepers noticed that his store was getting a lot more deliveries and pickups with the MC’s. Of course, they did own a garage.

  Harley J. Smithson, as his ID claimed, was thirty years old. He had this easygoing posture as he placed the old-fashioned book dangling from his fingers on the counter. He was a true ginger, reddish-orange hair on his head, a slight shadow of stubble on his face with piercing green eyes, and freckles. He also had an accent so thick I could hardly understand him.

  “Hey, Harley.” Mayhem took another puff of his cigar. “Our order in?”

  “Aye, it’s ’ere. You wantin’ ta see it or do ya trust yer ol’ pal, ’arley?”

  Mayhem tipped the cigar out from between his lips. “Now, I know you asked a question, but I don’t know what the fuck it was. Speak English, motherfucker.”

  Harley smiled wide in spite of the insult. “Yer just jealous I’m not shoving me big dick in yer arse.” Harley winked at me then turned and walked into the back room.

  “You wish you could get a piece of me,” Mayhem said, grabbing the crotch of his jeans.

  I looked away. I was being polite. Decent. Yup, that’s why I looked away.

  Harley placed a medium-sized box on the counter then retrieved a second one. “Yer bike parts.” He wiped his hands on his pants.

  Mayhem glanced at me. “Are you waiting for a fucking
blowjob? Put that shit in the truck.”

  I stacked the boxes atop each other.

  “Aye, you know t’at saying.” Harley smiled wide and easy.

  Mayhem grunted. “Happiness is a handjob, but bliss is a blowjob.”

  Harley chuckled. “’ell fooking yea.”

  I slowly made my way back out to our vehicle. It was a matter of balance. I placed the boxes on the ground, opened the back of the truck, and then put our cargo in. It took me a moment to decide. Should I have a peek? My proof could be in there. Explosives? Guns? Illegal items that would be proof of the MC’s involvement? I was staring at the boxes when Harley’s front door closed. I quickly shoved the back door shut, securing our cargo, and then came around to watch Mayhem walk toward me. He’d lost the cigar. His black hair had a few wisps free and falling to caress his face. His muscles bunched as he moved closer. Damn it, why the fuck was I still staring at him? I turned away and hopped into the driver’s side. Even if I didn’t hear the door, I could see tell Mayhem was in. The cinnamon, woodsy cigar smell permeated from his clothes. I inhaled deeply, starting the truck up and then got us the hell out of there.

  Chapter Three

  We were sitting in traffic again. Wasn’t that a bitch. Traffic on Mars. Well, we hit the streets at the wrong time. Everyone was coming home from work so we sat hovering over the ground waiting for the sorry excuse for a driver in front of us to move. The awkward silence was getting to me. Mayhem was sitting there, smoking his cigar behind tinted windows. The smell in the truck was growing, taking on a life of its own until I was constantly breathing in the scent that was Mayhem. Damn it. That sounded way too homosexual. I cleared my throat and tried to think of something besides these confusing feelings going on. “You talk to your father anymore?” Yeah, that was a sore subject. That’d help my erection. Which was because my dick was neglected and not because I was gay.

  “No. You?”

  “No.” Well, that was a great conversation.

  “I saw the shithead once,” he said almost begrudgingly.

  “Yeah?” We eased up a few feet. “How’d that go?”

  “We hugged and squealed like girls. How the fuck do you think it went?” He took another drag on the cigar, sending white smoke into the air around him.

  I was beginning to like Mayhem’s conversation skills. He was always honest.

  “I was on my bike,” Mayhem said. “This hover car pulls up next to me, sort of close you know. And I was ready to yell at this motherfucker and then I stared at the driver. His face was older, pale, and he was staring at me with these big eyes like he was startled.” Mayhem put the cigar between his lips.

  “What happened?” We moved a few more feet as the light turned red.

  “He cried and apologized and wanted to be best of friends.” Mayhem blew out smoke. “Think, Torrin. I’m his failed attempt at an heir. He stared at me. I stared at him. When the light turned green, we both drove away.”

  “Not very climactic,” I muttered.

  “You want climax?” Mayhem grabbed his crotch. “I got something right here for that.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Seriously. I’m not looking at your ass. Or your junk.”

  Mayhem didn’t answer, just kept smoking his cigar. The light turned and we made our way from the heavy traffic area down toward the clubhouse. Here it was quiet. Nothing but a smooth ride and bland scenery. The parking lot was red and flat, filled with three bikes, all in states of much-needed repair. The garage itself was a plain brown color, one story but with a high roof. There were three doors and two of them were open, showing a few mechanics working. Connected to that was a door that lead to the patch member quarters. I didn’t have one of those yet. Prospect and I got to sleep on the couches in the living room. Lucky us.

  “Put the truck in the garage and then come into the clubhouse. I’ll get you a real drink,” Mayhem said before he opened his door and got out.

  I hit the brakes, but he was already out, balancing rather gracefully considering his size. The truck fit perfectly behind the garage door. Because it was closed after I pulled in, the light was dimmer. Shadows played off the walls when I got out. The other mechanics were working on one bike, the frame a dark steel color and they all worked to place the hover tech engine in. I frowned as I walked to the end of the truck, staring at the closed door that hid the boxes. I should look. If it were guns, I’d be able to radio the peacekeepers and get them here. Guns would send them all away, maybe they’d be the same that were used in the bombings, then they’d get at least twenty years on Earth. My hand drifted over the flat handle. I paused, unable to move. Fuck. I dropped my hand. One look and this whole undercover bullshit could be over. I tried to talk myself into opening that door but whenever I touched it, doubt weighed heavily. What if Mayhem was right? What if the peacekeepers weren’t the good guys? Have I really been blind this whole time? I didn’t agree with all the rules, but I had always followed them.

  “Lower it another inch.” One of the mechanics was yelling, sweat beading on his forehead as they held the engine.

  I moved back from the truck. One step then the other until my back hit the wall. I could always come back and check the contents out, I reasoned. Yeah, that’s it. There wasn’t enough time now with the guys right there and Mayhem waiting. I nodded to no one in particular then walked away from the boxes. It felt a lot more epic than it looked.

  Mayhem was sitting at the club’s private bar with two shot glasses and a half-filled bottle of amber-colored liquid. A puff of smoke swirled around his head. “Ever drink alcohol before?”

  I sat next to him. “Haven’t had the pleasure.” Also, illegal!

  Mayhem twisted the top of the bottle. He gave the contents a swirl and then filled both our glasses. “Called whiskey.” Mayhem then took a big inhale of his cigar but before he exhaled he placed the glass to his lips and tilted it back. The whiskey filled his mouth as smoke escaped. I was so busy watching him that I completely forgot about my drink. Mayhem bared his teeth, hissing out a breath then slapped his empty glass on the counter. “Your turn.”

  It was a drink. How hard could it be? I took the glass between my fingers, sniffing and wincing. It smelled incredibly strong. I placed it against my lips as Mayhem did and took the entire swig into my mouth. The taste hit me at once. It was so strong that my face contorted and my eyes teared. I spun on the seat and spewed the liquid onto the floor. “Motherfucker.” I held my tongue out of my mouth like a damn animal then started swallowing profusely. “That’s disgusting.”

  Mayhem chuckled, deep but quietly.

  My mouth had this burning sensation going on as my taste buds rebelled. When I was sure nothing but the whiskey was going to come out, I spun around to find our glasses filled again. “You got to be kidding me. Why would I want to drink that again?”

  “Fine, you pussy.” Mayhem slid my glass in front of him. “Go get yourself some juice from the bar upstairs, you fucker.” He tossed back the drink, baring his teeth and slapping the glass on the counter when it was empty.

  Damn it. I did not want to look like a coward in front of Mayhem. I grabbed the glass before he could take it and slammed it back. The liquid burned as bad as the first time. I swallowed as fast as I could. The scorch continued down my throat and warmed my stomach from the inside.

  Mayhem grunted his approval and filled the glasses once more then capped the bottle. He held his out. “To not being bitches.”

  Hell of a toast. I clinked his glass with mine. I watched him drink it first. The way his throat convulsed and how he smacked his lips together. I followed, nearly coming undone as the liquid made its way into my throat. My mouth was still ablaze and my taste buds seemed to be down for the count. I couldn’t even taste the whiskey, only felt the sting.

  “Are you getting our prospect drunk?” Outlaw came down the stairs and stared at us. He had a few information chips in his hands.

  “Yup,” Mayhem confirmed then sucked on his cigar.

 
Outlaw rolled his eyes. The bags under them seemed to have gotten worse the longer I knew him. The man was strung out. Maybe it had something to do with his VP being in jail on Earth? Did these guys worry about the other members? It seemed like some twisted form of a family.

  He walked past us as he talked. “Unload the boxes. Stop drinking.”

  Mayhem grunted, hopped off his seat, and walked off. Smoke trailed him.

  Unpack the boxes? I hesitated. No, I had a job to do. Didn’t I? At the moment, I wasn’t too sure. There was a pleasant buzz going on in my head as I followed Mayhem. Nothing serious just this relaxed feeling spreading throughout my body. When we were in the garage, I watched Mayhem open the truck doors and I hesitated. This was it. I would find out what was in those boxes. This could possibly take the entire club down and they might lead us to the other MC’s hiding from the government.

  “Don’t stand there, shithead.” Mayhem tugged the box to the edge of the floor. “Take this one to the bar upstairs. Don’t drop it.”

  Then I tactfully blurted, “What’s in it?” Shit.

  Mayhem pulled the cigar from between his lips. “Plastic dicks for your ass.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that.

  Mayhem laughed. “Ah, your expression is priceless.” He pulled the other box out. “It’s new signs for the bar windows.”

  “Oh.” I closed my mouth and picked up the box. I didn’t speak again as we delivered the boxes.

  Chapter Four

  This was my first time undercover. I’d never had to go deep to the point where I was questioning so much. They needed someone the club wouldn’t know. Well, that was me and I was suddenly unsure if they picked the right guy for the job. I was sitting in the upstairs bar. It had closed a while ago and I told Prospect I’d clean up. He took the nice couch downstairs because he’d been here longer. I didn’t feel like sleeping. Too much thinking and worrying.

  The lights around me flickered and jerked me out of my thoughts.

  I stood and went to the large window in the front. There were two actually, one on each side of the plain door that lead to stairs. However, this was higher so I could see the buildings better. Some of the bright lights hugged the edge of the city so patrols could see if any of the MC’s were coming from that direction. There was a couch here. Two people max and I knelt on it. My arms curled on the top as I stared out. The night was quiet. A little cloudy. The lights blinked three times rapidly then went out. The window was my only source of light and that was just from the stars.