“Heard, and will do. Ride safe. Peace, Brother.”
“Same here, Cage. Thanks for the heads up,” I say disconnecting before he can reply.
I give myself a few minutes to digest what I’ve learned, but after I do and the coffee brewing has lost its appeal, I head back up to my bedroom and the woman I’m hoping is ready for round seven and eight. Because right now, I can’t think of a better way to work out my mounting frustration than to spank and fuck the delicious, Shayla’s ass. Watching her tight, virgin ass take my cock should help to distract me, at least, for a while.
CHAPTER TWO
~ Boss ~
“Take it from me; just don’t!”
- Boss’ advice to everyone
I knew I couldn’t put off taking what Cage had told me to the club for long. My brothers need to be prepared for what could be coming our way. After pounding into, Shayla until my cock was aching and spent, I text Diesel, instructing him to call church for eleven this morning. I had to wake her again when I was ready to leave, the woman had passed out cold after I was done with her, reminding me why I hated bringing women home with me.
This shit – the morning after – is what I try so desperately to avoid. I’m not a man who gives tender kisses and promises of phone calls later. Dating and everything that entail isn’t something I do. I find. I fuck. I flick. That’s it. I know when I do eventually find the woman who will take my property patch, ride bitch on my bike, and wear my ring I’ll have to rethink the way I do things, but not today.
Walking Shayla to her car – I insisted she drives her own car because no woman ride on the back of my bike – I pat her on the ass as I say,
“It was a good time, Babe. Thanks.”
Pouting like a goddamned duck, she asks,
“I had a great time too. When can I see you again, Boss?”
Ushering her into the car as quickly as possible, I go as far as to shut her door before replying.
“I’ll see you around the clubhouse sometime. Now I don’t have a regular anymore, I’m sure we can work something out, yeah?” This is the most commitment she’s going to get from me, so if she doesn’t like it, then she’s shit out of luck.
“Oh, I thought we could do this again, here,” she whines.
“No, babe, this was a one-time thing. I needed to sleep in my own bed, and for once I didn’t wanna do that alone. You were a great lay, Babe, but not good enough for me to go ahead and install you in my house,” I state, hoping I’m making myself clear about where this is going to go between us.
Slapping the roof of her Ford Taurus signaling she’s good to go, Shayla doesn’t reply. She simply kicks over the engine and peels out of my driveway like the hounds of hell are on her ass. Shrugging into my cut, I fire up my bike and take off for the clubhouse more than ready to get church over and done with.
Patch-overs aren’t unheard of, but they are uncommon. Rare enough to cause widespread speculation. More often than not, patch-overs occur when a smaller club can’t financially sustain club expenses, or they don’t have a sufficient number of members to protect their turf anymore. What troubles me about, Black Widows and Hells Riders, teaming up is that this appears to be an alliance purely for the sake of power and position. And if I’m right, and that is the case, then it signals something is brewing. Something sinister at that.
The only upside is that patch-overs take time, it isn’t instantaneous. You have to call in your riders, call in your nomads, get approval from your mother chapter, and you have to get a unanimous ‘aye’ vote. Albeit that will give us time to prepare for the worst, I didn’t hold out hope this would end without bloodshed, on both sides, if it went ahead. I might not know when this is slated to go down, but there is one thing I do know and that is; even patched over into the Hells Riders, Black Widows don’t come close to touching the manpower or firepower of Vengeance, club allies notwithstanding.
With all sixteen seats at church filled, thirty-five active members, eight prospects, and that’s just in the mother chapter, Vengeance is still the reigning MC in the six states south of, Colorado. The only good deed my former President, and father had done was build up the ranks of Vengeance with good brothers. Brothers who are loyal, solid, and dedicated. Brothers who would lay down their lives for me, each other, and the patch they wear on their backs without a seconds’ hesitation. Brothers, I’m eternally grateful for.
Parking my bike, I make it to church with five minutes to spare. It’s not like they wouldn’t have had to wait for me, but it’s disrespectful, even if you are the man in charge, to be late. Sitting to my right is my Vice President, Diesel, and to my left, Gage, my SAA. The rest of the chairs are filled, seats lining the walls for untitled, but full patch brothers.
Banging the gavel once, I start, not wanting to waste time.
“Got a call from, Cage this morning. His boys were out our way a week back, a county over, and caught wind of some information he thought we’d be interested in.” Eyeing my brothers, I note their expressions range from alert to hungover, but regardless of their varying states, all of them are listening. “Word is Black Widows are struggling harder to remain a viable charter out here than we’ve been led to believe. I’m assuming the house cleaning they did a while back, which saw five members losing their ink and another nine on probation, that they aren’t recovering as well as they’d expected to. I haven’t heard that they’ve patched in any new prospects, haven’t even been looking. Cash flow isn’t what it used to be either. After losing the Meth pipeline up in the valley too, Rioters, Black Widows are scrambling for a solution that’ll see them firmly back in the black.”
“What’s that got to do with us?” Cash, my treasurer groans. “Black Widows have been up to their asses in debt for a while now. Members not paying their dues, the pipeline being stolen out from under them, not to mention, they lost the license for their bar last month. Add to that, their overheads are still just as high as they’ve ever been. But still, none of that impact, Vengeance.”
“Maybe not, but them looking at a patch over into, HR’s sure as fuck does.”
“You’re fucking joking, right? Hells Riders have gotta have rocks in their heads if they’re thinking about taking on a sinking ship like Black Widows,” Sly, my Intelligence Officer grunts.
Followed by a hissed,
“Jesus fucking Christ,” from Diesel.
“Look, it boils down to this; aside from they’re thinking about it, we don’t know when, how, or why. I’m speculating here, but if this is about the Black Widows trying for a bail-out package, I think they’ve forgotten they aren’t dealing with the government. HR’s aren’t gonna pull them out of whatever they’ve gotten themselves into with a hefty injection of cash and a promise of an ally should they ever need it. We know how Hells Riders operate. They’re gonna want new patches on their backs, and blood in blood out. New ink. New mentality. HR’s are going to ask for everything shy of their first born to get this deal done, and if the Black Widows are in enough trouble that they’re seriously considering it, we’ve gotta be prepared for what that’s gonna mean for us.”
“And what does that look like for us?” Fury, my Enforcer, enquires.
“Best case scenario?” I ask tilting my chin. At his nod, I reply, “Nothing. They patch in, and HR’s gets thirteen stronger. Worst case? They’re setting up a power play after hearing we’re out of the trafficking business. It’s no secret that HR’s have wanted a piece of our pie for a long fucking time. This would be their perfect opportunity to strike. They’ve got no idea that we’ve shut those deals down, and what we haven’t we’ve spread out between Rebel Warrior, Disaster, and Rioters. As far as they know, Vengeance still holds the connections to those pipelines’ and they want them. However, Coke is done. The last shipment was taken possession over a month ago. Guns, we’ve only got Vasquez left to cut loose, and Fury, Sly and I are sitting down with him tomorrow to wind that up. There’s nothing for them to claim.”
“That doesn’
t mean they aren’t gonna try. I mean, what the fuck does this look like for the MC’s who’ve taken over from us?” Gage spits.
“One step at a time, Brother,” I urge. Gage is known for getting ahead of himself, but that’s the only flaw the man I call my, Sergeant at Arms has. Acting before thinking. “My first priority is, Vengeance. We’re not moving out of crack and guns to get into a fucking war we don’t have a stake in. The other clubs knew what they were getting into when we took our offer to them, but still, I’ll make the calls to Dixon, Savage, and Chopper to let them know what could be headed their way. What they do with that info is up to them. None of them are stupid, though, so I don’t think we have to worry about blowback from whatever decisions they make going forward.”
“I hate to say it, but I don’t think it’s gonna be that straight forward, Brother,” Diesel drones. “Going in, we knew there were gonna be some teething issues, HR’s were one of them. Black Widows aside, they were always gonna make a move once we stepped down, and this just confirms it. We all know what, Nix and his band of fuckwit brothers are capable of if anything, Black Widows joining their ranks might bring some intelligence to their table. Mills isn’t an asshole, just a dumbass. He made some fucked up decision, brought his club low, and in the process has doomed them to throw their lot in with, HR’s.”
Fury rolls his eyes asking,
“What’s your point, Diesel? Black Widows knew what they were doing when they voted, Mills in as, President. He was a dick then and he’s a dick now. No Prez worth his patch makes decisions that lead to his chapter having to disband, and cast their lot in with assholes like that. And don’t try and tell me Mills didn’t know because you and I both know that’s bullshit.”
“He’s right, Brother,” Sly adds. “Peddling pussy is one thing, but Nix makes that look like a night at the drive-in. Everyone north of the fucking Mexican border knows, Nix has been trafficking women, not all legal, north through the Dakota’s into Canada. What happens to them next is anyone’s guess, but that isn’t the least of the fucked up shit he’s into.”
Isn’t that the truth.
Joseph ‘Nix’ Walker, current President of, Hells Riders MC, and all around sick motherfucker is into some shit Vengeance at its worst hasn’t touched on. Rape, the murder of innocents, torture, seriously gruesome, depraved shit I can’t even begin to imagine in my most horrific nightmares.
A few years back, a string of fourteen-fifteen-year-old girls started going missing. Not from, Furnace or any of our directly neighboring counties. No, that would have brought heat from the Feds, and HR’s didn’t need that kind of attention. Close enough, though. Far too close for comfort, actually. Over the course of eight months, eleven girls disappeared. All bar one were never seen or heard from again.
Jessica Fischer, fifteen, from Grand Lake, Colorado was found beaten, repeatedly stabbed, raped, and dumped in the woods thirty miles south of, Furnace. She was alive when Search and Rescue found her, but died during transport, five minutes from the hospital. Details were never released to the public, but I managed to get hold of a copy of the autopsy, and what I read would haunt me forever.
She was bound and gagged, traces of adhesive residue were found on her wrists, ankles, and at the sides of her mouth. Bruises covered almost every inch of her pale skin. Her tiny, fragile body bore the brunt of multiple beatings. The varying age, depth, and method of exacting the wounds was extreme and proved she’d been held captive for at least a week, if not longer before succumbed to the pain-free haven of death.
Welts, boot imprints, and belt buckle contusions, along with dozens of cigarette burns littered her corpse. All of which were inflicted before she died. The worst of her suffering was the damage done to her insides. She was raped, repeatedly, in every orifice. Not only by animal posing as men but with implements, some sharp as well. I won’t go into the degree of fucked up that was, needless to say; it was fucking horrendous.
Shaking myself free of those disturbing images, I try and get us back on track.
“We’ve brought this to the table before, and it was voted down. No matter how sick and twisted the shit, Nix, and the Hells Riders do is, Vengeance doesn’t get involved. We’ll do our part if we came across damning evidence, that was agreed to, but we’re not going around digging into it unless it involved one of our own.” It’s not that I don’t have a moral compass, I do. But the sad reality is; it’s not my job, or my clubs to investigate unsolved murders. The cops tend to frown on that.
“So breaking it down,” Diesel begins. “We got a tip that, Black Widows and, HR’s are getting into bed with each other. The timing fits that this is some kind of fucked up hostile takeover, and we don’t have a horse in the running anymore so we’re out of the race but into the fire. That about right?”
“Sounds that way,” Sly answers for me.
Whistling to get their attention, I cross my arms over my chest and wait.
“That’s the intel we’ve got so far, yes. But I’m not saying we aren’t gonna be proactive in this. If you think for a second I’m gonna leave this up to chance, make a few calls, and sit around with my thumb up my ass, you’ve got another thing coming.”
“Never said that Boss,” Sly quips. “All I’m saying is; our hands are tied. We can’t pull out but still insist we’ve got the right to protect what was ours. And we can’t go digging around in HR’s or Black Widows business without them catching wind of it.”
I’ve had more time than they have to consider our alternatives, and this is what I’ve come up with.
“You remember, Lord?” I query.
“Yeah, big guy, ran with Black Widows, SoCal chapter a while back. Don’t know what happened to him, but yeah, I remember him,” Fury confirms looking confused.
“During the run we went on to San Diego months back, I bumped into, Lord down at his local afterward. It was a chance meeting, but it was fortuitous, to say the least. According to him, Black Widows are having issues nationwide. He was looking to cut out, join a club that was still operating along the lines of what he patched in for; riding, pussy, and green. We talked, I made the offer that if he could see himself clear of them, we’d talk about him coming on board with us.”
“What’re you thinking, Boss? Informant?” Fury questions.
“That’s about the size of it,” I agree, nodding. “He’s due to black out his ink in four weeks. I’m not saying we make this part of the terms for him to patch in here, or even that I’d give him preferential treatment for doing it, but I think that while he’s still connected to them, we could use him. He might not even be up for it, but it’s worth a shot.”
“Not sure I’m all that fired up to patch in a rat, Boss.”
“Rats inform on the inner workings of their club so another can profit from it some way, Gage,” I growl angrily. “I don’t give a shit how they make their money, where they store their gear, what they do inside their clubhouse. All I want to know is; are they planning on going head-to-head with us, forcing a war?”
“It’s not a bad idea, definitely not your worst, that’s for sure,” Diesel hedges.
“Thanks, asshole. Glad I can still be useful sometimes,” I joke. “Leave it with me. I’ll reach out, see if he’s even interested, and we’ll take it from there. You’re up to speed with where we’re at, now get the fuck back to work,” I finish with a solitary thump of the gavel.
CHAPTER THREE
~ Boss ~
Planning is critical
I might have said I don’t do early mornings but when it comes to business, that’s a whole other story. I’ll drag myself out of bed at the asscrack of dawn when it comes to anything that has the potential to line Vengeance’s pocket. And first on today’s agenda is precisely that.
The club has been dealing with the Vasquez Cartel for going on twenty years, a connection made back when my father was President. And simply put, one I can’t wait to sever like the useless limb it is. While we make a fuck ton of profit off the deals we make
with these guy’s, that doesn’t mean putting up with them is worth the trouble. Take now for example.
Turning back to the man who should have my full attention, I assess him critically. In my business knowing your enemy, or in this case, the man trying to negotiate a truckload of semi-automatic weapons could be the difference between life and death. The man sitting across the table from me isn’t what I would have expected when, Fury, my Enforcer told me I’d be meeting with the head honcho of the U.S. arm of the Vasquez Cartel. Probably five-foot-eight, if he’s lucky, pot-bellied and balding, it’s pretty clear he’s not a physical threat, but the men at his back, they most definitely are.
All over six feet and built like gorilla’s, Oscar Vasquez, cousin to drug kingpin, Raul Vasquez, evidently believed sitting down with me would require some serious muscle at his disposal if things went wrong. If I weren't angling for this to be the last deal of its kind Vengeance does, he’d be correct to assume he’d need the six steroid using goons at his back. However, seeing as I’m working to get the club clear of this shit, he’s overestimated the manpower necessary.
“I’m gonna be straight with you, Oscar. You don’t mind if I call you, Oscar do you?” I ask daring him to correct me. When he doesn’t, I inform him of my terms if he wants to do business with us. “I took this meeting with you out of respect, but if you want to do business with us you’ve gotta know, Vengeance isn’t going to be in the game for much longer. This one shipment is all I can offer you. After that, you’ll need to find someone else to fulfill your orders.”
Vengeance MC Box Set - Volume 1: Call Me...Vengeance ~ Fury ~ Jonas Page 3
