Bjorn: Teutonic Knights MC

by Carmen Faye

  “You know I haven’t! But if she doesn’t hear, she doesn’t hear! It’s not like she can walk up to Andrew and ask, ‘How are you planning to fuck the Knights today?’”

  “I know that!”

  “You don’t act like it sometimes!”

  “Well I do! You don’t think it’s strange she finds out all this other shit, but she can’t find where one girl is located?”

  “No, not really. Why would she lie about that?”

  “To string us along? To keep you wriggling on the hook and feeding her tidbits of information while you’re fucking her. Do we even know there is a Melissa?”

  Ironside went incandescent with rage. “You mother fucker. You think I’m passing her information?” he asked quietly.

  “I don’t know. Are you? Dolch said you were balls deep in her while discussing business.”

  “On the hit she told us about!” he roared.

  “All I know is, I didn’t tell her about the studio.”

  “And how many of us here know about it? Everyone? It’s not like it’s a fucking secret.”

  “That’s right. It’s not. We’ve been working on BKS for almost six months and, yet, the hit didn’t come until after Peyton showed up.”

  “Coincidence.”

  “I don’t believe in coincidences.”

  “You can believe what you want, but I think you’re doing nothing but jumping at shadows. You bring me proof she’s a mole for the Saracens, and I’ll cut her heart out myself. But until that time, I’m going to believe she’s an asset to this club.”

  “I think you’re making a mistake.”

  “Noted,” Ironside snarled, then stormed away before he ripped Whiteshirt’s head off.

  ***

  “What are you doing here?” Ironside asked as Peyton approached. Peyton was sitting on his kitchen steps when he arrived home. “What happened to you?”

  Peyton’s face was beginning to bruise and her lip was swollen. “Andrew. It’s nothing,” she explained with a dismissive wave.

  “Why didn’t you come to the clubhouse?”

  “Because I didn’t know if I would be welcome there after what happened.”

  Ironside chuckled then gave her a gentle kiss. “It’s all anyone has been talking about,” he said as he pushed his bike into the garage. “A few sided with Honey, but most thought she got what she deserved. She called you out and she set the rules.” He chuckled. “The guest rooms were busy right after the fight.”

  “How is she?”

  “She’s okay. She left and was gone for a couple of days before she came back. I think she was embarrassed that you kicked her ass again and everyone found out all her trash talking was just that: trash. Since she’s been back she’s been a lot less mouthy.”

  She nodded. “Good. I’m tired of kicking that bitch’s ass. I hurt my hand the last time and it took days before it stopped hurting.”

  “But it’s not hurting now?”

  She wiggled her fingers for him to see. “No.”

  “That’s good. How’s your knee? When Honey kicked you like that, it made me cringe.”

  “It hurt like a bitch the next day, but it’s fine now. Are you still fucking her?”

  He chuckled. “Jealous?”

  She smiled. “I know I have no right to be, but yeah, a little. I kicked her ass, twice. I feel like I should get something for my efforts.”

  He leaned in and gave her another soft kiss. “You’re right that you have no right to be jealous…but no, I’m not fucking her anymore.”

  “Anyone else?”

  “What is this? Twenty questions?”

  Peyton smiled, noticing he didn’t answer the question, but it didn’t matter. She didn’t expect him to be celibate and she and Melissa were leaving as soon as they could anyway. “No, just one.”

  “What?”

  “Are we going to be playing hide the sausage again or not?”

  He chuckled again. “You like that game?”

  Her smiled widened. “Yes, and I want to play it at least one more time before we leave.”

  He grinned, rather liking the way that sounded. “Is that why you’re here?” he teased.

  She became serious. “No. I found Melissa, but I also have more news.”

  “What?”

  “You’ll get Melissa out? Today?”

  “Why today?”

  “Because Andrew knows. I don’t know how, but that’s what this is about,” she said as she motioned at her face. “He came at me and started slapping me around, wanting to know what I’d told you.”

  His face went hard. “How’d you get away?”

  “The thick end of a pool cue to the side of the head will slow you way down. But we still have a deal, right? You’ll do it today?”

  “We may have to wait until tonight, for cover, but we have a deal,” he confirmed.

  “They’ll move her!”

  “We’ll get her, don’t worry. We’ll need to know what you found out, where they’re keeping her, so we can plan.”

  She nodded. “The Saracens are coming for you. You, Whiteshirt, Dolch, the whole club. They know where you three, maybe more, live. They’re going to try to wipe you out. The cartel, they’re pressuring the Saracens to get a handle their problems.”

  “You don’t know when or how?”

  “No. I found that out a couple days ago, and I’ve been trying to find out more. But now I’m burned.”

  Ironside nodded. “We need to move on this,” he said as he pulled out his phone and dialed. “Whitehirt! Ironside. Is Dolch there?”

  “Yeah, why?” Whiteshirt answered.

  “Get him and haul ass over to my house. Peyton is here. You need to hear this.”

  “What?”

  “The Saracens are on the move. Just get your ass over here as fast as you can.”

  “We’re rolling,” Whiteshirt said then was gone.

  “You didn’t tell them about Melissa…” Peyton said softly.

  “No. We’ll talk about that when they get here. How did you find her?”

  Peyton smiled. “What I did to Honey was nothing compared to what I did to Jeanette. She was laughing about some of the girls having to be reinitiated, and how a couple of days ago Andrew fucked this one girl so hard they fell off the bed. When I heard that, I took apart one of the cues, stashed the fat end in a bathroom, then took her in there, locked the door, and beat the shit out of her until she told me what I wanted to know. Then Andrew showed up and the bitch screamed for help. He kicked in the bathroom door. Then…” she waved at her face again.

  “Where’d you learn to fight? You obviously know how to take care of yourself.”

  She grinned. “I grew up in a rough neighborhood, and I liked to put out.” She shrugged. “Some of the girls didn’t like me fucking their boyfriends. I took a few beatings before I learned how fight back. Later I had a boyfriend teach me how to throw a punch.” Her grin widened. “I used what he taught me on a girl he was two-timing me with.”

  ***

  “What have you got?” Dolch ask twenty minutes later as he and Whiteshirt settled into chairs at the table, a beer in front of them.

  Peyton decided to open with what was most important to her. “I found Melissa. She’s in the Arabian Motel, on Lorain. We need to get her, as soon as possible, before they can move her.”

  “We’ll get to that,” Ironside said. “Tell us about the hit.”

  “What hit?” Whiteside asked.

  “The cartel is pushing the Saracens to deal with you. Worse, they know the home addresses of the officers, maybe others, too.”

  “Fuck! Are you sure?” Whiteshirt asked.

  “Sure? No. I’m not sure about any of this. I only heard about it through the grapevine.”

  “How did they find out?”

  “How should I know? I didn’t tell them, if that’s what you’re implying. I don’t even know where you or Dolch live.”

  “Deal with us how?” Dolch asked.
/>   She shrugged. “I don’t know. I was trying to find out when I got burned.”

  “Andrew knows she’s our mole,” Ironside said softly. “That’s how she got the busted up face.”

  “How did they make you tell?” Dolch asked.

  “They didn’t. Someone tipped him.”

  “Are you sure?” Dolch asked.

  “Positive. I’d been putting him off, telling him I was on the rag, and he was playing grab ass and hassling me about fucking in the shower, and I was playing along. He left for a meeting, then three hours later, he comes back from his meeting, kicked in the bathroom door, and started trying to beat the shit out of me, demanding to know what I told you. So, yeah, I’m sure.”

  “You don’t know how the hit is coming? When? Where? Anything?” Whiteshirt asked.

  “No. I was trying to find out.”

  “How long have you known this?”

  She shrugged. “A couple of days.”

  “Two days, and you haven’t bothered to tell us?” Whiteshirt asked.

  She shrugged again. “Now I’m telling you. Has it done you any good?”

  “The information isn’t worth shit without at least a time and place,” Whiteshirt growled.

  “Which is why I didn’t say anything until I could find out more. I can’t exactly walk up to Andrew and ask him about it, you know. ‘Hey, Andrew! I hear you’re planning on ass-fucking the Knights! Can you drop them a line and give them all the details? Thanks, Stud!’” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

  “This is worthless!” Whiteshirt snarled.

  “We know something is in the works,” Ironside said, annoyed with Whiteshirt’s attitude. “We’ll have girls keep their ears to the ground, see if we pick up any rumbles. Knowing it’s coming might allow us to see something we’d otherwise over look.”

  “Not very fucking likely,” Whiteshirt muttered.

  Ironside ignored him. “Dolch, what can we do to spring Melissa?”

  “You’re not serious!” Whiteshirt cried. “She comes in here, drops this bombshell about the hit but with no details. This could be a trap to get all of us to ride into Saracens territory where they can take us out in one shot.”

  “Fuck you, Whiteshirt, you asshole!” Peyton shouted. “We had a deal! I’ve done my part! Now you have to step up and do yours!”

  “Whiteshirt’s right. We need to be damn careful. Not because I think you’re selling us out,” Dolch added quickly as Peyton began to flair, “but if they know we’re coming for her, they’ll be waiting. Remember Canfield? If we’re going to pull her out, we need to move, now, before they can get organized or move her. Do they know we’re coming for her?”

  “I never said anything to suggest that. When I started busting on Jeanette I knew I wouldn’t be back, so after I found out where Melissa was, I started trying to find out anything else about the hit. She’s Pogo’s old lady and I thought she might know something. Maybe she won’t realize it was about Melissa and think it was about the hit. Maybe.”

  “Too risky,” Whiteshirt said, shaking his head. “We need to see what the Saracens do before we go charging into there.”

  “They could move her!” Peyton cried.

  “One woman versus how many Knights?”

  “You fuck!” Peyton shouted.

  “What do you recommend, Dolch?” Ironside asked.

  Dolch thought a moment. “Ten men with suppressed pistols. Go in fast and hard. Do you know which room she’s in?”

  “No.”

  “We’ll take all the women,” Ironside said.

  “Are you shitting me?” Whiteshirt asked loudly. “Why would you do that?” he continued more quietly.

  “To fuck the Saracens. I don’t know how many girls they run, but if we were to lose eight or ten girls, we would see that in our bottom line. How soon can we be ready to do this?”

  Dolch stared into space a moment. “An hour.”

  “Let’s make it happen.”

  “You’re both crazy! Leave me out of it!” Whiteshirt snapped.

  “You got it,” Ironside growled. When this was over, he and Whiteshirt were going to have a come to Jesus meeting.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Ironside handed his holdout Glock 43 through the driver’s window of the van. The Knights were preparing to make their move and were in a parking lot two blocks from the motel. “You know how to use this?”

  Peyton took the weapon, looked at it a moment, then handed it back. “No. If I need that, we’re already fucked.”

  He grinned and tucked the weapon back into his ankle holster. “We’ll call you as soon as we have the building locked down. Get your ass in there as fast as you can and get the side door open. We’re all leaving in the van, so pack the girls in tight to make room for us.”

  Peyton nodded. She was driving the van; the Knights were going to haul out as many girls as they found, and she had been silently praying the entire drive that one of them would be Melissa. He reached through the window and gave her hand a squeeze. The mission had been thrown together at the last moment with the simple plan of going in fast and killing anyone who looked like a threat.

  Ironside stepped back from the van and the eleven men sauntered down the street in three groups, their patches covered in black tape, as if they didn’t have a care in the world.

  ***

  “What a shithole!” Dolch muttered as the men sauntered into the parking lot of the Arabian Motel.

  “It’s not the Four Seasons, that’s for sure,” Ironside agreed.

  The Arabian Motel was a seedy, two-story motel that appeared to have been built in the fifties, and not renovated or repaired since. The once bright red doors were faded, along with the rest of the rain-stained paint.

  “You take two, I’ll do one,” Dolch said as the men broke into two teams, then divided again, starting at opposite ends of the motel and working toward the center so anyone running would have no place to go.

  The Knights fanned out, five on each floor, with one moving to the manager’s office. Each man stopped at a door and waited. The moment he heard the first door being kicked in, Ironside drew back and kicked hard at the door. The old, tired wood gave way easily and he burst into an empty room.

  He hurried past his men as they burst into rooms to the shouts of men and screams of women. He stopped at the next room in line and kicked in the door. Inside a man was on his back in the bed with a woman on his chest, his cock inside her pussy. Crouching behind her was another man, his cock in her ass, while a third man stood at the side of the bed, his cock in her mouth.

  “Everyone out!” Ironside ordered, his gun leveled at the tangled bodies.

  “Hey, man! We paid for two hours with this bitch!”

  “Out!” Ironside snarled, drawing a bead on the head of the man that spoke. The men began to scramble. “Are you Melissa Booker?”

  The woman, her eyes empty, shook her head. “If you want to get out of here, go to the courtyard and wait. Now!”

  “Don’t shoot us, man!” of the men spoke. “We didn’t know she was your bitch!”

  “Shut the fuck up and get out of here! You have ten seconds!”

  The men bolted from the room, joining other men running naked down the steps and into the courtyard. There were already three women forming a cluster, another woman running to join them.

  “Thank you,” the woman whispered as she squeezed past and hurried down the walk to join the other woman.

  Ironside pulled his phone and punched dial. “Get here! Now!”

  He moved down the line, a woman running out of a room and bouncing off him with a shriek of surprise then cowering. “Run! Hurry!” he said, giving her a shove to start her moving again. He stopped at the next unopened door, kicked it in, saw it was empty and moved to the next. He kicked it in.

  “One more step and I’ll kill her!” the naked man snarled, his Sig Saur 9mm under the woman’s jaw.

  Ironside quickly surveyed the room, noticing the Sarac
ens’ colors draped over a chair. “Go ahead, she means nothing to me,” he growled, his weapon never wavering.

  “I don’t know who you are, but you’ve made a big mistake coming in here. You’re going to let me walk out of here or she dies.”