Wreaking Havoc: A Silent Sons MC Prequel

by Ambere Sabo

  Chapter 1

  Venom

  I can’t believe we’re in church for this shit. Never thought we’d hold a club meeting to deal with business that wasn’t ours. My ears catch snippets of whispered conversations going on around the table.

  “…I know Havoc feels like he owes his old club to help out.”

  I got love for Havoc, but why the fuck are we getting involved in another MC’s shit? Especially the fucking Reapers!

  “…but The Reapers will never change.”

  Exactly! They may look like they have changed their ways, but I call bullshit. Those of us who’ve been around long enough, remember the mayhem they used to cause.

  “But Rodeo was friends with Hawk a long time ago.”

  “We don’t need to get caught up in some MC gang war.”

  “We’ve got bigger issues to worry about.”

  “Yeah like all that blow.”

  I find myself nodding in agreement. Right now, we need to focus on where the fuck all this cocaine is coming from again, and nothing else. There’s no way I’m letting our town go back to how it was when I was a kid. No matter how many junkies and dealers we fuck up, no one is talking, and I won’t have this shit come down on the club.

  “Right! We don’t want to tarnish our relationship with the cops.”

  We may be in tight with most of the cops in town, but that doesn’t mean they won’t come knocking if people start dying. When their loved ones die, people only see in black and white, and all our good deeds for the community won’t change shit. In the end, we’re still an MC that isn’t always on the right side of the law. In small town Texas, that can lead to homegrown justice, and it’s not fucking pretty.

  Bang, bang, a gavel pounds the table. Shit. I’m not even paying attention, and the meeting’s over. I need to get my head in the game; there’s no way I can protect our club if I don’t even know what the hell is going on. At least they already know where my vote stands with this mess. In a situation like this, it’s majority rules, and looking around the table, I see nothing but lucky horseshoes.

  We’re going to end up in a club war with The Reapers over this shit, and damn it if I won’t have Havoc’s head if that happens. No matter how many motherfuckers we kill together, this club is all I have, and I won’t let anyone take it from me. As our Enforcer, it’s my job to make sure everything is under control.

  “I need a drink,” I say to no one in particular, as I slam my chair back against the wall. The only people left in the chapel are Havoc and Prez. Fuck if I want to talk about any of this shit. They’re too caught up in whatever they’re talking about to even hear me. Screw it. I’ll talk to Prez after I chill the fuck out.

  The music’s already loud as hell as I walk out into the main room of our clubhouse. Shit, it’s loud for us to have just been in church. Cherry Pie blares through the club speakers. I guess the prospects need a lesson in manners, and my nerves are more than happy to give it to them.

  First, I need a fucking shot. Keeping my head down, I head straight to the bar for my tequila, but when I reach into the little fridge underneath the bar top, I come up empty. Where the fuck is my bottle? The brothers know better than to touch my shit. I swear I will rip someone’s head off tonight if I don’t calm the fuck down.

  “Prospect,” I yell, but the music is too loud for anyone to hear me.

  Looking up for the first time since walking out of church, I see them. Every prospect is watching the corner booth in the back. Hell, I think every brother is too.

  What the fuck is going on around here? The song switches to Pour Some Sugar on Me, and I know Rev is somehow responsible for the choice of music. His taste in music hasn’t evolved past the 80s hair bands, and I hate it. I’ll deal with that after I figure out what the hell is going on in that booth.

  I have to shove through a few prospects before they realize it’s me and clear a path. That’s right mother-fuckers, don’t make me have to put you in line. After giving a death glare to the last one in my way, I turn around and damn, if my jaw doesn’t drop.

  Some chick is all up on Rosie giving her one hell of a lap dance. Hands roam all over Rosie’s body. The brothers holler some of the crudest catcalls I have ever heard, and that’s saying a lot with this crowd. This chick doesn’t even flinch, it’s like she can’t even hear a damn thing they’re saying. Who the hell is she?

  She bends over and licks Rosie’s ample cleavage, her long blonde hair making a curtain as she does, blocking the show she’s giving. The brothers voice their displeasure, but I don’t give a damn if I never see Rosie’s tits again.

  It’s not like she doesn’t walk around in the skimpiest tops she can find anyway. With the blonde bent over, the curve of her ass is popping out of her barely-there shorts, and damn if it doesn’t cause my dick to jump to attention.

  She leans back to pour salt on Rosie’s tits causing my attention to draw up her toned ink-covered body. Hell, that’s sexy as fuck. She might even have more ink than me, and that’s saying something.

  She leans over and licks the salt from Rosie’s tits slowly before chugging from a bottle. A bottle I know all too well. This chick has my damn tequila. If I can get her to take a lime out of my mouth like she just did Rosie’s, I may just let her keep it.

  The music stops blaring, “What the fuck, Cessy?” Havoc roars.

  Oh, hell no, she’s The Reapers’ fucking Princess. I don’t need to deal with that mess, no matter how fucking sexy she is. I stalk over to grab my tequila off the table and with a sneer say, “Princess, don’t touch my shit again.”

  As I stomp back over to the bar to take a shot, the guys are already thinning out. No one wants the drama that comes along with fucking club royalty.

  Her daddy isn’t even cold in the ground yet, so no doubt his club will rain hell on Earth to whoever fucks with his baby girl. It’s not worth the trouble, even if she does have the best ass I’ve seen in a long damn time.

  Chapter 2

  Cessy

  “What in the ever-loving fuck do you think you’re doing, Reine?” Havoc yells.

  Oh, no the fuck he didn’t just call me by my actual name. In this life, that’s the equivalent of a parent calling out a kid’s full name when they’re in trouble, and I sure as shit don’t need this from him right now.

  “Reine, huh, okay, Eric. If that’s where you want to take this,” I say with the same crappy attitude he has.

  I need another fucking shot, but seeing as Mr. Tall, Dark, and Broody just took the only damn good liquor in this place, I guess I’m out of luck with that. Standing at full height in my sky-high heels puts me at chin level with Havoc.

  I give him my best glare while crossing my arms over my chest, pushing my cleavage up. He knows just how well I can work a clubhouse, and he sure as shit doesn’t want me going to one of his brothers rather than the club whore I was just dancing with.

  “Don’t start, Cess. I’m trying to help you out, but dancing all over Rosie like that is only gonna start shit. I’d rather not have to knock a brother out, and you know that.”

  “Rosie?” I ask in confusion, what kind of club whore goes by Rosie?

  Damn, I hope I wasn’t up on an Ol’ Lady. I doubt a brother would take too kindly to the attention I was bringing his woman. I hear a giggle from behind me and turn to look at the brunette I was just using to forget the crazy for a bit.

  Without skipping a beat, she drawls, “I give the best damn handy this side of the Mississippi.”

  A handy? What the fuck does that have to do with her name? She interrupts my thoughts lifting her hands into the air, palms up.

  “Rosie Palms,” she says with a giggle. I can’t help but laugh at that. Well, shit at least she owns it.

  “What, you going to tell me there’s a Swallow here too?” I ask sarcastically.

  She giggles and shakes her head no. Well, thank God for that. Havoc clears his throat, giving her a look that means my fun is over, and it’s her cue to leave.
>
  As I watch her walk away, I catch Mr. Broody staring at me from across the bar. If he would learn how to share, I’d say he’s damn sexy with sleeves of ink. Damn, I love a man with ink. They look to be geometric or something, but I’d need a closer look to be sure.

  He’s tall as hell. He must have at least three inches on Havoc, who already towers over me when I’m not in heels. I bet I wouldn’t even reach the top of his shoulders in my damn heels.

  Where Havoc has blond hair and blue eyes like me, Mr. Broody is the exact opposite. Dark, almost black, hair and eyes. He has a well-groomed beard, and though I don’t prefer beards, he rocks it. Maybe he could give Havoc some grooming tips—his beard is out of fucking control right now.

  Havoc stops my appraisal with, “Care to explain what the fuck that was about, Cess?” gesturing to the booth. “You had damn near every brother in here watching your ass.”

  “Damn it, Havoc! I was just trying to let off some stream. You know how I feel about being in another MC’s clubhouse. Especially when I’m here to ask people I don’t even know for help. Hell, I don’t even like to ask your ass for help opening a jar.”

  His anger shifts to guilt and I hate it. I know he feels like he let me down when he left The Reapers. I had to learn to depend on only myself after that, but I understand why he had to go.

  “Cess, you know you can always—,” he starts.

  “So, this is what all the commotion I heard is about,” someone interrupts.

  I have no clue who the beast of a biker approaching us is but, damn, I could kiss him for his timing. I don’t want to talk about my trust issues right now.

  “Rodeo, this is Cessy. Cessy, this is my Prez,” Havoc offers gesturing between the two of us.

  “Heard ya were giving my boys quite the show out here,” Rodeo says with a smile that only grows with Havoc's growl. Did he seriously just growl at me?

  “Sorry ‘bout that. Just needed to blow off some steam and have a drink,” I say with a frustrated breath, looking away. I feel like a teenager being scolded again with all this bull shit.

  “Your mama used to do the same thing,” he says with a chuckle.

  My eyes snap to him, what the fuck did he just say? How did the Prez for The Silent Sons know my mama?

  “Yes, I knew your mama, Hawk too. But that was years ago when we were just little shits who thought we were untouchable,” he says with a laugh that lights up his gray eyes. “And thank the Lord you look just like your mama. Never did understand how Hawk managed to land her. I was real sorry to hear about what happened to her,” he finishes as sadness replaces the light in his eyes.

  Looking away, I try to get my head on straight before I let my emotions get the best of me. I don’t think I’ve ever even heard of this man, and here he is talking about not only my mama, but my pops too.

  It’s been a shitty couple of weeks, and I’m trying my damnedest not to break down. In this life, I know I can’t let people know they’ve gotten to me or they’ll know my weaknesses. I cannot afford to look weak in any way right now. When this is all said and done, I can break down, but until I know what happened to Pops, I just don’t have the time for it.

  I rack my brain, trying to remember if he’s ever been mentioned, but I don’t remember this guy at all. He may be older, but he’s still handsome. Tall, with salt-and-pepper hair, dimples and a physique that tells me he still takes care of his body. But I truly don’t think I’ve ever seen him before.

  “I don’t remember you from her funeral, or Pops’ funeral for that matter. Did you go to them?” I ask a little more quietly than I’d have liked.

  “By the time the cancer took her, Hawk and I had already had our falling out. I didn’t think he would take too kindly to me showing up at Anna’s funeral, no matter how long we had known each other.” He hangs his head in embarrassment at missing her departure from the world.

  He looks back at me and continues, “We didn’t agree on how he was running his club and the effects it had on you and your mama. I knew he was just tryin’ to run the club the way his Ol’ Man would’ve wanted, but that shit was getting out of control. His Ol’ Man was buried six feet deep, and still managing to run Hawk’s life.”

  My granddad died when I was only one, but I never even met him, not that I would remember him if I had. Mama always told me I was lucky for that. He was apparently a mean old bastard who never approved of my mama, and told Pops she got pregnant to trap him or some shit. If he was anything like my uncle, Russell, I’m glad I never did meet him.

  Rodeo fidgets with his hands, as if he’s nervous telling me these things about my deceased parents. “The last time I saw Hawk, he made it entirely clear if I ever challenged him again, it’d be the last thing I ever did on this Earth. I didn’t agree with how he was running his club or taking care of his Ol’ Lady, and I wasn’t quiet about it.

  Anna asked me to drop it, so I stayed away after that, from her too. Thought it would be easier that way. If Hawk wanted to go down for a club, he didn’t ever even want, that was his business, but I wasn’t going to sit by and watch it ruin him.”

  A look of disbelief crosses my face with that. Pops never said anything to me about not wanting the club life. Hell, he lived and breathed the club the entire time I was there.

  “You’ll have to tell me about her sometime, hell Pops, too. I’d love to know what they were like before they had me, and he took over the club,” I say honestly. My heart aches over all that I don’t know about the people who brought me into this world. I know so little about Mama. And ever since Pops’ death, I feel even more lost. Like I don’t know who I am anymore.

  Over the years, Pops would drop tidbits of information about my mama. But I want to know more. I need to know more. His little nuggets aren’t enough. And I don’t really know anything about what Pops was like when he was young. He didn’t like to talk about what he was like back then. Who knows why, but I would love to know more about them both.

  “Hawk loved your mama like no other man could. Loved you too, even if he didn’t always know how to show it. Thought that keeping you and Anna away from him, and the club, would somehow keep you safe. He didn’t want either one of you mixed up in this life. A lot of good that did,” he says shaking his head.

  I know now that Pops wanted to protect me all those years ago, but a little girl doesn’t understand why her daddy doesn’t want to come around more. The distance is something that took some time for me to overcome. Thankfully, I did finally come around.

  “It was a foolish hope for an MC Prez to think that by staying away from his wife and kid that he would keep us from being hurt. His distance hurt a lot. Mama tried to hide her tears, but I know she missed him every day. I don’t know a lot about Mama outside of my memories of our life together. And I know even less about the two of them together.” I take a deep breath and will the tears away that want to clog my throat.

  I continue with my eyes on the table. “But I do know that he loved her fiercely, and he missed her every day after she was gone,” I offered with a sad smile on my face. To love someone the way my pops loved my mama, had to be both wonderful and heartbreaking.

  “No one expected that the cancer would take her so quickly. We all expected there would be more time to get everything straight. After she died, he tried to raise you the best he knew how. Once we get this wreck business all sorted, you and me will sit down with some of Venom’s tequila, and I’ll tell you all about the trouble we used to get into,” he says with a nod toward the bar where Mr. Broody is standing.

  Venom huh, I wonder how he got his name. I look over at him just in time to see the back of his cut as he walks out, tequila bottle in hand. I’ve been around men in cuts for over half my life for some reason though, it looks better on him than anyone else I’ve ever seen.

  Rodeo chuckles at his broody brother before looking back at me and saying, “He’s no good at sharin’, but don’t mind him. Let’s go see what you know ‘bout Hawk’s crash. Then
we can figure out where to go from there.”

  He gestures forward, and I follow him and Havoc to the chapel, feeling someone’s eyes on me the whole time. One look around before we close the door, and I lock eyes with Mr. Broody. He sure does stare a lot. I give him a smirk and the finger before I shut the door. What the hell is his problem?