by Oakes, Tara
I had never felt pain like that before. I've been shot, stabbed, had bones broken, but nothing compared to the damage done when Lil's left and took that love away from me. By some miracle, she was given back to me and I will do whatever I need to do to protect it and keep it safe. I will gladly give my life for her... for them both if needed. I watched as the sun filled the low lying horizon, taking in its beauty and the breathtaking hope it brought for the new day. If this was my last morning, my last sunrise, then I would die a happy man knowing my Lil's would get to see it again.
CHAPTER FIVE
Clink and Tiny had made it back shortly before breakfast. The ol' ladies had set out doughnuts, coffee and bagels on the bar. Every charter in riding distance was well represented and more than a handful of nomads had shown up. There were only a few times that I've been around for when we rallied together like this, most of them being happy occasions.
With so many brothers here, the boardroom would not be able to handle church today. We packed into the main garage area, standing room only, and pops climbed onto the hood of a black Durango, one of the cars that was here for repair. Some of the brothers were great mechanics and the club brought in a small but steady legitimate income through this shop.
The murmurs were dying down and quiet was settling over the crowd, waiting for pops to begin. These men had come here willingly, offering their muscle, their heat, and even their lives if needed. Every man had an equal interest in what was about to go down. When one of us was threatened, we all were threatened.
“I want to thank all of you brothers for getting here so quickly. I don't get to see you all together like this that often, but when I do, it warms my fucking heart to see the core, the foundation of this club with my own eyes. Loyalty... brotherhood. Many men can claim that they have these things. We know we have these things. We live by our word, we kill by our word, and we die by our word. Something has been taken from us. Something precious and something that we can't afford to lose.”
“We chose this life... our families and loved ones don't often get that choice but they live it just as much as we do. Each one of them deserves our protection just as much as the brother they love. Today we do what we do best... we show those who fuck with us that we don't tolerate it. I'm not looking for war here, I'm willing to try to handle this clean. Demands were made, and we are prepared to meet those. Businesses can be replaced, money can be recouped. Daughters can't.”
All eyes turned to Butch as pops spoke, each slowly returning to the standing speaker as pops continued, “Lil's is our brother's daughter but there is no man here that can claim he doesn't love her as his own. We have an opportunity to trade some meaningless things for her safety and any brother here who objects needs to speak up now.” Not a sound. “All right then... the lawyers have drawn up the contracts. Ownership of the businesses in the industrial park will be forfeited. For now. Once Lil's is back safe and sound, we deal with Shade for that. Clink sent out word to every Slayers chapter on the east coast that as of now we are considering Shade and the Chisolm chapter separate from them. We deal with only them. If any of their brothers steps foot in this town to get involved with this shit then we will consider ourselves at war with them also. We're cutting the snake off at the head. We've got enough muscle here to make any other of their presidents think twice before getting involved in a turf war.”
Brothers nodded and agreed, voicing their support.
“But... our first priority is Lil's. I am waiting on word from Shade for a rendezvous location to hand over what we each want. We sit tight, ready to ride out at a moment's notice if need be.”
Pop jumped down from the car and made his way through the crowd, nodding to each brother he passed before they set out to follow his lead. Clink caught up behind me and held me back while the room cleared around us.
He was tired. Pop's sent him out yesterday after Shade's call to handle the rest of the Slayers' charters and I'm sure he hasn't slept since. Clink was about six years older than me but was more worn. I nodded to him, curious as to what he had for me. “Jay... Vince wanted me to let you in on what went down with the Slayers.”
We walked over to a random bench in the tool area.
“Seems Shade's been busy... he's been hitting up every nearby charter for support and muscle for a local takeover.”
This was nothing new... Shade's made no secret of his desire to run us out of town. We were larger, more financially stable than any other Slayer charter. The only way he would be able to even hope to push us out would be to get the support of every other brother of his. I looked over to Clink, “Yeah, I got that brother, but what's new about it?”
Clink pulled a pack of cigs from his pocket and set one out, offering me one. I shook my head, declining. Lighting his smoke and taking a drag, he finished his report.
“He's been trying to get their support for months. That shit that went down on Virginia's run? That was him trying to show he had enough man power to start fucking with us, trying to entice other charters it was the right time to join in.”
I knew it. We had been hired to run protection and distraction if needed for a few eighteen wheeler trucks making a delivery. We kept an eye out for local law enforcement, ran detours when necessary to ensure the trucks were able to drive through without incident. Somewhere along the road shit started inconveniently happening. First, two bikes were disabled during a meal stop, leaving us no choice but to leave them and the two riders behind, thinning out our ranks. Then a random road check popped up, causing us to re-route to some old abandoned highways where we were ambushed and one of the trucks was stolen. The driver was shot and thrown from the truck in the process. We found the truck abandoned and cleaned out some ten miles away, all three hundred assault rifles on board stolen.
Some fast tracking on pops part led us to an old schoolhouse where we surprised about ten guys with no patches or other identifying colors keeping watch over the guns waiting for a pickup. Tiny has a way to encourage people to talk, but the only info we were able to get from the assholes was that they were hired anonymously to grab the guns and wait at the schoolhouse for their contact, to sell the merchandise to their buyer. They had no idea who they were stealing the shipment from or selling it to. They were simply hired hands ready to try to get some quick action.
We left one of their men conscious to deliver a message to their contact when he arrived and the rest of his men tied up in the basement of the schoolhouse. No doubt the intended buyer was none too happy with his hired hands because it was was all over the news that night that the schoolhouse had mysteriously caught fire and burned to the ground while a group of campers were squatting in it for the night. Something about camp fire safety had managed to make its way into the report. These were some desperate, hardcore motherfuckers we were dealing with.
Clink took long drags of his cig, eying me as I processed the information. "Whatever few chapters were willing to jump on his bandwagon have reconsidered, with this new shit going down. Seems he's getting reckless, careless. They're afraid the heat he's bringing down is going to spread to them. The feds are already looking into that schoolhouse fire. They're not looking for any more pressure right now."
I looked my brother in the eye. We had known each other my whole life, his own pop serving as V.P. when we were young. Dusty was a loyal brother and served some hard time for the club before getting beat down and shanked in some racial shit behind bars. I had seen Clink deal with his pop's death and some pretty cruel times in his life. It made him tougher, stronger. He had mad skills when it came to handling fucked-up situations... had a way to see backdoor options and has gotten us out of a fair deal of crap. I could see him sizing me up.
One last drag on his smoke, Clink casually tossed the used butt on the ground before stomping it out. "How far you willing to go today, Jay?"
He already knew the answer. He just needed to hear me say it, say the words. I clenched my jaw. "As far as I have to, brother."
Clin
k was satisfied. In our world, there were pretty set rules. Not that everyone always followed them, but they knew the consequences for when they chose not to. He nodded to me, letting the full severity of our talk settle around us. "I told all this to your pop. He's pretty set about handling this as low key as he can. He's got a backup plan ready in case things go to shit, but..... not so sure you want to take the gamble...."
I swallowed hard. This was the line. He was about to give me the information I needed to cross it. I just needed to wait for it.
Exhaling deeply, fully aware that he was about to hand me a fucking loaded weapon, he continued, "The Slayers East view chapter is pretty fuckin' done with Shade and his ways. They're ready to impeach him and merge with what's left of his chapter after all this goes down, they just need Shade's men to not put up a fight. Seems this might be a good opportunity to thin their numbers a bit, make them a bit more willing to play nice when the vote comes up to patch them over. With their word, of course, that we have an alliance. Whatever beef we have with Slayers, ends with Shade and doesn't carry over to the new management."
I drank in his words.
"I got an address for where they're stashing Lil's. They're outside of Chisolm, sitting tight," Clink confided to me.
That was all I needed. I had felt lost the last couple of days, not sure how I was going to be able to get to my baby, get her safe. Now I knew.
CHAPTER SIX
Later that afternoon we got word that the meeting was going down at Hyde Park at ten o'clock. We were to bring three guys of our own to match their three. The deeds and titles were to be transferred over and in return Lil's would be given back. This all looked great on paper but we knew better. Something just didn't sit right. Pops was busy convincing himself, feeding his denial.
He had lived through a war before, and I couldn't blame him for trying to avoid another. But, it was a price I was willing to pay if it meant it would keep my girl safe. No amount of bloodshed, grief or risk could change my course. It was set, predestined. Life had given me Lil's once, and then given her back to me again. She was meant to be mine. She was all that mattered.
THEN
My whole life I had wanted nothing more than that cut, that patch. I knew very few things for sure but I knew I was meant to ride and meant to wear that patch. I had just barely gotten through school, too preoccupied with my bike and waiting to start my real life. Pop knew full well I intended to join the minute I was through with that joke of a high school. The only thing that kept me going, waiting for graduation day, was Tiny bearing it with me and the endless supply of chicks.
I had worked my way through the girls in my own year by the time I finished the tenth grade. Nothing like a bad boy to turn even the prudest Little Miss Perfect or daddy's little girl into a vixen. For most of them it was a phase, some right of passage that they quickly grew out of, and I could drop them easily without much drama leaving them with a whole lot of bragging rights for their friends. Some became clingers, but most went away quietly. By the time graduation rolled around I could proudly say I had fucked every girl worth fucking in the building. I didn't discriminate against faculty either. Some of the best learning I had during those years was during private tutoring. Can't say I would have graduated without it, though. My skills had earned me some MILF notches on my belt and passing grades in return. It was no coincidence that my highest marks were always given by the most grateful of those instructors.
The day after graduation I had walked into the clubhouse and right up to the bar where pops and the guys were sitting. In order to prospect for the Kingsmen, you had to meet certain requirements. You had to be out of school, have a Harley (engine size at least 1000cc) and to be nominated by a patched member.
I had been working odd jobs around the clubhouse for years, saving every penny that came my way to buy my first bike. It may have been used but it was all mine. Tiny and I had spent countless hours in the garage repairing and restoring it until it was gorgeous enough to make me get hard just looking at it.
Having now met every prerequisite for entry, I was fully prepared to state my intent walking into the clubhouse and right up him. Pops had his back turned to me, sipping on his beer while his brothers nodded my way. "Somethin' on your mind son?"
Dewey was drinking with my pop and smirked at me. Tiny had been nominated yesterday by his own pop Butch; he was given the brand new stiff plain leather cut as a graduation present. I waited all day for my pop to offer me the same gift, his legacy. All I got was a card with a few grand in it. The cash meant nothing to me, I could earn for myself. I wanted what was mine.
"You know why I'm here." I spoke to his back. His shoulders rose and fell with each breath but he didn't turn around to look at me, the situation had quickly turned awkward. Clink, one of the newer brothers was leaning up against the bar playing with the empty shot glass in front of him, eyeing me as I confronted his president.
Pop emptied his glass and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth to rid himself of the foam collected in his stubble. He turned his stool to face me.
"I suppose I do...." He squinted his eyes at me, taking me in. "Seems you need a sponsor, son. But, it's not gonna be me.”
I heard the words. They hung in the air between us refusing to fade away. My pop had raised me in this world, his world. I was primed since I was shitting in my own diapers to ride with this club. But pop never just gave me things, handing them up on a silver platter. He made me earn them. I never knew how far he would go with it though, if it would carry over to my claiming my rightful place here.
The room fell silent around us, with these men serving audience to our fucked-up father/son power play. Clink cleared his throat, setting his shoulders back and tall. “I'll vouch for the kid.”
We all directed ourselves in his direction, except pop who kept his focus on me.
“I nominate him. I take responsibility for him,” Clink finished.
And that was it. Clink had stepped up for me, spread his wing and took me under it. I knew the kind of man my pop was. Nothing was given to him in life, he took it, everything he had. It didn't mean he wanted me to fail, it just meant he wanted me to know I had done it on my own. That was my first lesson in how to deal with Vince, the president. Not to be confused with Vince, my pop.
That night Tiny and I were treated like kings with a huge party thrown at the clubhouse to celebrate the incoming prospects. There were four of us then. Tiny, Chris P. (later known as 'Trojan'), some kid named Pete who barely made it a month, and me.
We partied hard that night, drinking ourselves to toxic levels. Each brother bought us rounds and shots, testing our resolve. The music was blaring, heavy rock beats giving us our own soundtrack to the first night of our new lives. The pussy was in endless supply tonight, crawling around making themselves useful and offering themselves up to whomever felt the urge. These women were skilled, experienced in how to handle the groping hands and hungry dicks.
Clink had bought the latest round and was comfortable in the chair across the table from me with some bar slut sprawled across his lap, giggling as he whispered into her ear and tickled his fingers into the crotch of her very visible pink lace panties beneath her microscopic skirt. I eyed them, sipping my warming beer and felt the blood draining down into my dick. This bitch had made her way through the club over the past few weeks, showing up and serving the brothers well. She was given a pretty decent rating by the brothers, a solid four out of five stars. Very few of these sluts earned the full five stars, it took some real talent to reach that level of self depreciation.
Her bottle blonde hair was all teased out and her “fuck me” red lips were licking over themselves as Clink played her with his hand and teased her with his words. The show was worth watching, and I was more than willing to take it in.
The sweet butt shot her eyes over to me and Clink chuckled to himself while withdrawing his once missing fingers and patted her drench-stained mound approvingly. She scuttled herself up f
rom Clink's cushion and made her way over to me, leaning over to me spilling her artificial cleavage in my face, jiggling those double D, overly-tanned melons above my mouth. She smelled like several men's colognes mixed together, but damn those tits looked delicious. They probably cost some sucker a pretty penny but, mmm, were they a good investment.
My dick was now struggling against the denim, tenting it. The chick reached down and grabbed my hand, her brightly painted claws pressing around my fingers. “Follow me, darlin'. I don't usually do prospects but consider it a graduation present.”
I practically jumped up taking one last swig of my beer and followed the pretty thing to the back of the room, behind the bar and into the delivery hallway hidden with a set of double doors. She pushed me up against the wall and licked my lips, spreading the red sticky stuff over them. Her hands were busy undoing me, pushing my jeans past my hips and freeing my now fully stiff limb. She dropped to her knees on the hard concrete and took all of me in, slurping and guzzling every inch down into her open throat. She sucked hard, pulling me into her. She was rough and feral in her performance, posing and displaying her well-honed art for an invisible camera. This wasn't about me, wasn't about her... it was simply two animals satisfying themselves.
The doors opened and swung closed behind Clink as he entered and made his way behind her, nodding to me as he raised her ass high. She never stopped sucking, never looked back at the newest member to our group. Clink threw her skirt up over her ass and pulled her panties out, stretching them toward him and away from her skin with one hand while he unsheathed his hunting knife from its holster and sliced through the fabric with the other.
