The Filthy Few (Iron Disciples MC)

by Daniella Tucci

  Soon as I get out into the main clubhouse the picture becomes clearer. Judging from the body count it looks like a number of Outkasts came in from outside under the same disguise and my door wardens let them in; why wouldn’t they?

  The sound of gunfire continues outside but it’s sporadic. The rest of the Outkasts that are in here are either dead or too close to death to continue to fight. Looking around I see a number of my loyal brothers lying dead in great pools of blood. There are three or four club whores that got caught in the crossfire as well. So far it looks like the causalities are limited to whores and the old ladies who were present are okay; physically that is.

  A few minutes later the gunfire stops, then the clubhouse door opens and in walks Shooter, my Sargent at Arms and Smokey, our surveillance expert. I’m gonna have some questions for him soon as the immediate medical needs of the club are met.

  Over in one corner, sitting on the couch are Morgan and Stacy. They are both covered in blood and gore but appear to be unharmed. They’re talking quietly to each other and watching the progress of the three club nurses as they begin triage. I motion Shooter and Smokey to join me.

  “What’s up boss?” Shooter asks.

  “I need a body count on both sides. If you come across any living Outkasts I wanna know about it. Smokey, I want you to do whatever you can to assist the nurses in caring for our fallen brothers then later I’m gonna be asking why this happened and why no one saw it coming.”

  “Yes sir!”

  “And Shooter, find whoever is left of my officers and get them ready for an emergency meeting; at least the ones healthy enough to attend.”

  “On it!”

  Now it’s time to check in on my old lady and her friend. I grab two towels from behind the bar and a couple bottles of water. They’re going to need some cleaning before they can even step out of the clubhouse to go shower. As I get closer to them I see just how this whole mess has affected them. They both look seriously shell shocked. This ain’t something they’re gonna be able to shake off with a good night’s rest. The same goes for me for that matter.

  “Are you guys okay?” I ask as I walk up to the two stunned girls.

  “Do we fucking look okay?” Morgan asks.

  “I meant are you injured?”

  They both shake their heads so I open one of the water bottles I brought and go to douse one of the towels when Morgan stops me.”

  “Wait,” she says. “Can I get a drink of that? I can’t get the taste of blood and vomit out of my mouth.”

  “Here.” I hand her the other bottle and proceed to soak the one of the towels.

  She takes one last swallow and hands the bottle to her friend so I can begin to wash her face. Gently I begin to wipe away the already crusting blood and detritus from Morgan’s face. I start with her mouth. Her full cherry lips never fail to get a response from me, even now with it covered with another man’s blood. As gently as I can I wash her mouth then move down to her chin then up to the rest of her face. In some places where the blood is the thickest and driest it takes a lot of water and multiple wipes. Before long my towel looks more red than white and has me wishing I’d brought another. This will have to do until she can go home and shower.

  I have been around some gorgeous club whores in my time but they can’t hold a candle to either woman. Stacy is clearly more stunningly beautiful than Morgan but it’s my old lady’s strength that makes her more attractive in my eyes. Stacy also could use a once over with a towel and some water but It’s going to have to be someone else! Just the simple act of washing Morgan’s face is an incredible turn on. All the while I am washing off the blood I can feel my cock straining against my pants. I’m in serious need of a blowjob…or a cold shower. I should probably go for the shower. I need to be 100% focused in the meeting. Now that the traitors have been weeded out we need to plan our course of action. If I’m going to convince the other officers that a careful planned approach is better than a haphazard violent reaction, then I’m going to have to reign in Shooter and Smokey and some of the younger members. They’re all going to want revenge tonight and I can’t see that ending up in anyway but a disaster like this afternoon. Now we’re short numbers, weapons, and Intel.

  FIFTEEN

  Aftermath

  Stacy and I just sit in the corner of the clubhouse numb with shock and watching the proceedings around us. There’s the wounded and the dead to take care of and a shit load of repairs that are going to be needed around the club before it’s habitable again. Two hours later when Cade and his officers wrap up their meeting and come out, I am surprised at the amount of progress made in such a short time period. If I had no idea what happened and just walked in I would think this is a pretty clean. Two things give it away. The smell of gunpowder from the guns and the bullet holes in the walls and ceilings. Oh, and the new cardboard fashion that about half the windows and mirrors in the place.

  When the doors to the inner sanctum open I look up immediately. Cade is the first person out and he looks…well, relieved I guess. I’m not sure what that’s all about but I hope he’ll fill me in soon.

  “We’re going to do a patch over.” He says as he walks over and takes a seat beside me.

  “Is that a good thing?”

  “It’s the smartest option and the less violent and less risky option. We’re riding to Los Gatos in one hour.”

  “We? Does that mean I’m coming too?” I ask, hoping that’s the case.

  “You’re my old lady are you not?”

  “Yes!” I reply. I never thought being called an old lady would be such a turn on.

  “Stacy,” Cade says. “You need to come with us. It’s the only way to keep you safe. You can ride with Shooter. He doesn’t have an old lady or a girlfriend. We’ll be gone for a couple days.”

  Stacy jumps at the chance. “Of course I’ll go.”

  “Is it safe for her?” I ask. “I mean, she’s not an old lady and I don’t want her to become a club whore…”

  “Relax Morgan. This isn’t the first ride I’ve been on and patch over parties are a riot!”

  “Shooter has agreed to protect her,” Cade says. “As the club’s new VP, he has the right to take her under his protection and no one will touch her.”

  “I kinda like that.” Stacy says. “He’s cute.”

  “Yeah he’s a real babe.” Cade responds sarcastically.

  “I’m serious!” Stacy proclaims.

  “He gets the most pussy,” Cade says. “So I guess that’s saying something.”

  Stacy’s eyes sparkle. Is she going to turn into a real wildcat now? I wonder. Ever since I met Cade she’s been showing me a new side to her that I’ve never seen before. Maybe it’s always been there but I haven’t been around to see it.

  “So which one is he?” I ask, scanning the room.

  “See the dude with the chaps over there next to doors.” Cade says.

  I follow his finger. He’s pointing to a butt ugly biker with grey hair.

  “What the hell?” I ask. “How does he get pussy?”

  “Shooter!” Cade hollers.

  “What’s going on Pres.?”

  “Cade you little shit!” I exclaim.

  Cade laughs. “Hey, you gotta take laughter where you can find it. It gets pretty fucking serious around here. Shooter,” Cade says to the tall drink of water. “My cousin is going to be riding with you the next couple days. Think you can keep your dick in your pants for a couple days?”

  “Absolutely boss!”

  The way Stacy is looking at the Disciples new VP I can tell this is going to be an interesting road trip. But first I have some calls to make. I have vacation time stored up for about three weeks worth. Time to call in the chits. Stacy will have at least two weeks as well so Jason will have to hold down the fort a Capital America while we’re gone sewing our wild oats.

  “You two come with me,” Cade says, indicating that Stacy and I should follow. “There’s a place you can shower and get clean
ed up. The brother who lives in the apartment had an old lady close to you guy’s size so he’s got a shit load of nice clothes you can go through before we leave. You can shop later for whatever else you want.”

  He takes us out the clubhouse where it looks like a real military compound. There are brothers everywhere and they’re all armed with anything from pistols to AK-47’s. Everyone has a dead serious look plastered on their face. They’re taking the loss of four brothers and one prospect very hard. Near the back of the compound not far from the shop area are several ‘apartments’ that brothers use for periods of time depending on the need. We’re welcomed by a guy about my age or a little older. He doesn’t have that hard look that so many others have, even though he experienced the loss of his old lady just a few months ago. Cade informs us that we have about 90 minutes to get ready to ride. I can think of several things to do in the meantime.

  Cade’s friend shows Stacy and I to a large walk-in closet where we pick out a couple simple outfits. Then Stacy takes one bathroom and I take the other. As I’m standing in a stranger’s bathroom peeling my clothes off I am even more shocked. These clothes will have to be burned. No fucking way can you get them cleaned? There’s just too much dried blood and other shit. One more time my stomach roils and I end up bent over the toilet heaving but there’s nothing to come out. I don’t feel any better until I’m under the hot jets of water. I look down at my feet watching the water that’s sluicing off me go from pink to clear as the last remnants of blood are washed away. Now if I could only make the same thing happen with my memories.

  I’m just about to turn off the water when I hear the bathroom door opening. That was fast.

  “Stacy?”

  “We’re you hoping for Stacy?” Cade asks, as he strips off his own bloody clothes.

  “Ha, you wish I wish. Sorry, but that’s not gonna happen.”

  “One can always hope.”

  Seconds later the door opens and perfection steps into the streams of steaming water. One more time I am amazed at his body. Not only are his muscles phenomenal, but the array of ink on his back, chest, and arms is pretty fucking incredible. The way different themes interlock and melt into each other is nothing short of a masterpiece. Makes me want a tattoo.

  “What are you doing?” He asks.

  “You’re a living canvas.”

  “Yeah…I get that a lot.” He replies without thinking.

  “Really?” I ask, immediately getting jealous. Who else has been privy to his ink?”

  “Just you now babe. But I won’t lie. There have been…a lot of women. But since the first time I was with you I haven’t been with anyone else and not because there haven’t been opportunities.”

  Time to change the subject. “How do you do it?”

  “Do what?”

  “Act so casual after what happened today. Everyone is fucking devastated but not you. You’re even cracking the occasional joke and I can only wonder do you lack the capacity to feel or are you a fucking psychopath?”

  “Neither babe. I have just learned there is a time for everything. There’s a time to cry and a time to laugh. There’s a time to be strong and a time for weakness. The key is figuring out when is the right time. You cry when you should be strong and confidence is lost. You laugh when it’s time to cry and you scare others and you fuck yourself up in the process. When the time is right I’ll grieve my brothers, but that time is not now. As my old lady I suggest you learn that or the life will fuck you up!”

  “But how do you do that? How do you cry at the right time and how do you get strong at the right time?”

  “It takes practice. After something like this, the next time you’re alone with time on your hands you dwell on what happened. You sit in a dark room and think about it until it rips your soul apart. Then you cry. Then you scream and vomit up the filth you saw today and the things you did today and you stay there until there’s nothing left. Then you walk out with your head held high and you help everyone else deal.”

  “Wow!”

  That was pretty fucking profound! And I think he’s right.

  “So next time you’re alone Morgan, you have yourself a good cry or a good scream or both. That’s how you take care of your soul. The life will eat up your soul and spit it back out and there’ll be nothing left of you. Got it?”

  “Yeah…problem is, I haven’t been able to shed a fucking tear since my mom died with I was 13. It’s been a dry fucking well since then. Even when my dad died around a year later. I still couldn’t cry.”

  “Yeah, that’s not good. Keeping all those feelings trapped inside is a poison Morgan. You gotta get that shit out!”

  When he joined me in the shower I thought we were going to have ourselves a watery fuck-a-thon. Instead it turned into a talk-a-thon. We ended up staying in the shower until the water ran cold. Then we dry as fast as we can and he scoops me up into his arms and carries me over to the bed. He sets me down and for a moment my eyes feast on his rock hard body. When my eyes find his cock my hand drifts down to my pussy and my fingers begin circling around my little button. Cade leans down and grabs my hand.

  “Later babe. I gotta go. We gotta a meeting in the clubhouse in ten minutes.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me? You used up our fuck time talking bullshit in the shower?”

  “Bullshit?” He asks.

  “Okay, it wasn’t bullshit, but do you really gotta leave me here like this?”

  “I really gotta do it.”

  “Well you know what happens when you leave your old lady like this don’t you?”

  “What?” He asks me.

  “I end up fucking the first thing that comes into my room.”

  “Well let’s hope it’s not the family dog then.”

  “You better hope it isn’t ‘cause I’m not sure you compare.”

  “Goodnight babe.” He says as he finishes dressing.

  “You’ll regret this.” I mummer as my fingers begin to change my sour mood.

  “Get some rest. We’re going to be on the bike for a long time the next five days.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Later.” He says as he walks out.

  SIXTEEN

  Patch Over

  We’re traveling as a large pack tonight. Cade prefers sheer numbers over trying to slide under the radar. I’m guessing there must be about 35 or 40 guys and another 15 or so old ladies and a half dozen or so club whores who are apparently here as a gift to the club Cade is patching over. Too sooth ruffled feathers is I believe how he put it. We’re going to patch over the Black Knights MC. Cade hopes that we’ll gain about forty new members to add to his charter. But that’s not the only club he is after on this little road trip. There’s two other smaller clubs he wants to absorb. If luck is in our favor he figures we’ll end up with about 60-65 new members and hopefully at least 20 of those will be willing to relocate immediately. Of course in times of war we hope that about 60 will temporarily re locate but you can’t really count on that much. People after all have jobs and not everyone is completely tied into the club for 100% or their earnings. We’re also meeting with one of our Southern California chapters who are bringing in a fresh supply of guns and ammo for the war effort. Cade estimated that we lost about twenty men today who either died or betrayed us and went to the Outkasts. That’s some fucking heavy losses for a single evening.

  We ride all through the night and into the morning before we get to the Black Knights clubhouse. They have been expecting us. I thought the patch over meetings and subsequent party would pretty low key and not be until the evening but it got underway the moment we landed. Stacy and I are afforded special honors since I am the President’s old lady and my new best friend Stacy is under Shooter’s protection. Prospects from the Black Knights wait on us hand and foot along with Prospect Blonde who is still broken up over the murder of his best friend Prospect Red.

  Turns out the men need to blow off a little steam. This is not the kind of party that starts slow
and picks up momentum until it rages. This party literally explodes into action! Four giant speakers belt out Metallica’s Enter Sandman and leather clad brothers throw down shots as James and Kirk shred on their guitars. The threat of violence fills the air as outlaw bikers deal with loss and prepare for revenge the only way they know how.

  During the break between two songs I hear the rapid pops of someone firing a gun outside. Several other guns join in just before guitars drown them out again. I get that this is not your typical patch over taking place here today. It’s one born of desperation and revenge. It’s a little like conscription was in the old days of the military and not all those are happy about the new leather being forced on their backs. Not everybody here knows me or my status in the club so tongues wag freely around me. I’m not too surprised to find not everyone stands behind my man. There are some who would prefer the leadership of his younger brother. I feel like I should say something to Cade but he is off somewhere, probably cementing old alliances. I’m not sure what to do here.

  “Need anything?”

  Prospect blonde is at my elbow waiting for my answer and I have a sudden inspiration. I lean forward and literally shout into his ear what I have been picking up around me. He’ll be able to get it to Cade if anyone can. Now I can relax, have a drink, and enjoy the party. Before long I notice that there seems to be one principle person who is sowing the seeds of discontent. I look around, then spot Prospect Blonde and waive him over.

  “You give my message to Cade?”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  “Well I got another one for you and this one’s real important. All the trouble seems to be coming from one source.”

  “Good work! Who is it?” He asks.

  I point out a scary looking dude who is not much taller than he is wide. He has shoulder length kinky greying hair and a beard. He has a tattoo of a Black Knight sitting astride a horse on the left side of his neck. You can’t miss him. He’s constantly surrounded by pussy; young pussy. He must be paying because he’s far too ugly to get it willingly.