Burn Up (Steel Veins Book 2)

by Jackson Kane

  “Appreciate that.” I looked down, nodding. Miles was always one of the good ones. Sucked that they found a way to cut him out as prez. The crossed coffins on my arm—the symbol of our club—strangely seemed to itch. “Looks like Tex bent both of us over the pine boxes. Where’s everybody? I don’t see any actual members anywhere.”

  “Inside. We got a logistics meeting for the run tomorrow.” Miles checked his phone. “Actually, it looks like it just started. Let’s head in.”

  “Charity ride?” I asked.

  “I wish.” The thought of what was coming made Miles grimace. “It’s the pine boxes that got bent over this time.” A statement like that coming from the ex-president didn’t bode well at all.

  “Iron Legion?” I asked covertly.

  He nodded.

  “Shit....”

  I glanced back at Skids to let him know we were heading in, but it looked like he was in the middle of a heated argument with the girl who had just arrived. My guess was that it wasn’t over the parking situation. We all had our battles to fight, and that looked like one he wanted to handle alone. I might’ve been looking at one myself when I sat down at the table, so I pushed open the clubhouse doors.

  For a brief moment, I thought I was in the wrong building. The place was so radically different, I barely recognized it.

  “Fucking hell. Love what you’ve done with the place. It’s got that Satan’s man-cave vibe to it,” I muttered to Miles. The real question was where did Tex get the money to turn our humble little community hall into a goddamn heavy metal ski resort.

  Miles just shook his head. I could tell he didn’t care for its excessive nature either.

  Expensive wood panels paved the walls while checkered tiles and carpeting covered the floor, supporting a host of new leather furniture, large-screen plasma TVs, and pool, foosball, and card tables. Toward the back was an elevated mini stripper stage accompanied with a tricked-out liquor bar with an LED-backlit backbar. Then there was an entire new wing for our personal rooms.

  I could only imagine what they looked like!

  Gone were the days of drunkenly collapsing against the tagged-up drywall or fucking some bitch’s brains out on the concrete floors. That last part I didn’t miss all that much. Concrete was cold as hell and hard on the knees. I tried to avoid it whenever possible, but, hey, sometimes you just made the most of what you had.

  I threw open the doors to the war room, the name for our private meeting room where all club business was discussed. The room itself appeared at least similar to how I remembered it. The walls and floor were uniformly renovated to match the rest of the club’s aesthetics, but the spirit of the room was still intact somehow. That had to be the work of Miles and Skids. Neither of them liked change and I was glad for that. It was the first thing in the entire clubhouse that actually felt like home. Where everything outside this room had been replaced with shiny and new shit, in here, it just looked like it was updated, which I was all right with. The incorporation paperwork was still framed above a cascade of old pictures. The death’s-head symbol over the club’s crossed-coffins logo hung ominously on the far wall above portraits of fallen members. That gray wall, however, was far more cluttered with pictures of the dead than when I left five years ago. J-Rock, Trainwreck, and Smokey—all good men and loyal brothers—were now just squares of photos behind a thin layer of ash-smeared plexiglass.

  Under Tex's rule, the number of photos would be increasing dramatically, and that wouldn't be slowing down any time soon.

  The three men that sat around the table—all new members—stood up to greet me. I made the rounds and did the introductions, but I didn’t feel like a returning brother. They regarded me as a nomad, a friend of the club that was just passing through.

  I was now a stranger in my own home.

  Skids showed up as I was bullshitting, and Miles and he took their assigned seats. Their presence was encouraging, reminding me that for however long I was staying, I did have allies here. It looked like everyone was accounted for except President Tex, who hadn’t shown up yet.

  After a few more minutes, which felt a little too much like a power play, the new Coffin Eaters’ president shoved the doors open. He was a little shorter than I was and a few years younger, which put him in his late twenties. His long hair was neatly pulled back, and he wore a beard. Beneath his nice, new leather jacket, Tex’s stomach had grown a bit since the last time I saw him. The king eats the best, after all.

  Clasping all his guys on the shoulder as he passed, Tex took his place at the head of the table. The gavel came down with a loud bang, and everyone else took their seats. It was still weird seeing Tex, of all people, in the big seat. That squirrelly prick must have had to do some serious maneuvering to get the club’s majority vote for president.

  It was all new to me, but the changing of leadership was ancient history to these guys. Life in the club typically went at such a breakneck speed that if I wanted to survive, I had to form new alliances constantly. Memories had to be short, and I got that. However, I was still pissed, not that I could show it, of course. I couldn’t let the past sidetrack me from getting out. I had to focus on my future. Nothing else mattered.

  “First things first. Welcome back, Junk. We missed you, brother.” It was custom for the president to publicly welcome returning brothers, even if he wasn’t hoping I’d return. Coming from Tex, it was an empty gesture. Either way, it was followed by a renewed round of cheering by the other guys. “I’ll keep this brief because we got ourselves some celebrating to do. The truck will be here tomorrow at ten, and we leave at noon. Road captain, we good with the route and motels?”

  “Yep,” Loopy answered him. “No sweat.”

  “Hold on,” I interjected. “I’ve been underground for a while, so would someone wanna fill me in on what we’re doing exactly?”

  “My bad, Junk. We’re muling fifty kilos of coke to Cali for the Iron Legion. That going to be a problem for you?” Tex informed me casually, astutely studying my reaction.

  “Jesus, fuck! Seriously? Yes, that’s a goddamn problem for me. I was in prison six hours ago! I’m not all that eager for the free ride back!” Tex was out of his mind if he thought I’d just hop on this like nothing had ever happened. I was on parole. If I sneezed in the wrong direction, my ass would get busted.

  “All right, I’ll level with you, Junk. After your stretch, you deserve at least that much.” Tex paused, sizing me up. “The club isn’t going to make it on our own anymore. We need the Legion, and we need their money if we’re going to keep our turf. This run will net us over a hundred K. This isn’t even a real decision. It’s just some shit that we have to do, and it’s already been voted. This is happening. It’s the life, brother. Fast or dead, you know how it goes.”

  The room was tense, and it was obvious now to me what was really going on here. The new guys were fresh and judged me without even wanting to know me or my loyalties. The old guys were in it too deep. They might not have liked the direction Tex was taking them, but the club was all they had left. They were in it for life, regardless of who was the president.

  Not me. I was done drinking the fucking Kool-Aid.

  “Well, in that case, I wish you fellas the best of luck. You let me know how all that shit works out.” I pushed my chair back from the table.

  “It’s no secret you want out, Junk. I can imagine you’re pretty pissed about the Russian thing.” Tex took a deep breath and regarded me like a concerned parent would chastise a kid who reached for the cookies right before dinner. “Truth is, we got too many guys down or dead. I can’t spare you right now. If you call a vote to leave, I’ll make sure you’ll lose. And if you run, well... you know what happens. No one wants that.”

  “Goddammit, Tex.” Skids was quick to get my back. “He doesn’t need your fucking threats.”

  “Our boy here has been out of the loop, old man.” Tex stood up and planted both hands onto the table so that he could look us over from a position
of dominance. “I’m just bringing him up to speed to how things run around here now. These are hard times for the C.E., and I gotta make sure everyone here’s on the same page.”

  I glanced around and realized I was up against a wall. I had, at most, two guys whom I knew I could count on but not the rest. Not these new guys. Tex was the club, at least for now.

  “But hey, it’s not all doom and gloom. We’re brothers, right?” Tex announced loudly, lightening some of the tension in the room. “There’s no reason we can’t be reasonable. Junk, you do this for us, and you’re square. I’ll get you what’s owed for your trip to county plus your cut from this gig, and you walk away free and clear to start your new life.”

  I studied Tex but couldn’t find any words that my fists couldn’t say for me better. I was really pissed now. I shouldn’t have to do one last job. Being out wasn’t good enough. I wanted my freedom. I deserved it. I bled for it. I earned it.

  Real freedom.

  But here I was, a prisoner all over again, but just of a different system and a bigger cage. Now I was sure I wanted out of the MC.

  “Why?” I asked but continued before Tex could try to decode the vague question. “Why get in bed with the Legion? Clubhouse got a nice overhaul, and it doesn’t look like you boys are on the breadline.”

  “The C.E. is dying, brother. We got no foothold here anymore. There’s pushback on every side by the other crews. If we don’t get brought into a larger club and soon, this MC is done and over.”

  I ran my hand over my face and took a minute to contemplate. Tex and I never saw eye to eye, but I understood what he was saying. Even with the prospect push, the club was hurting for members. Topeka itself was a dying city on more than one level. There just wasn’t enough love or interest in the club here anymore.

  The Coffin Eaters were being taken into the Iron Legion family, a much bigger club. If anything, being in the Legion before I walked away meant that I had a much larger support network if I needed help on the outside. If a member left on good terms, he was still protected. Yeah, I understood the advantages, but I just didn’t like it. It meant that they would own us.

  And I was no one’s bitch.

  “All right, so get some Legion down here to help with the ride. I’ll hang home and protect the clubhouse and families.”

  “This is the rite of passage—our initiation. We all gotta do this. Word’s already gotten out to the surrounding clubs and gangs that if anyone tries anything against us and ours while we’re gone, the Legion will crush them. We don’t need you home. We need you with us.”

  Fuck! Tex had me by the balls, and there was no getting out of it. I was on the hook for one last ride.

  “All right,” I replied, trying not to sound sullen. “If I’m gonna skip out on parole, I might as well have a good story to tell the guys when I go back to prison.” Through the joke and dark smile, Tex could plainly see my anger at him for forcing me to do this as well as my burning eyes that told him to watch his fucking back when this was all over.

  “Like I said, Junk, it’s good to have you back.” He returned the look. Obviously, there was no love lost between us. “That’s it for official business so—”

  “I got somethin’. Kinda fell into my lap.” Skids interrupted, all eyes falling on him. Tex motioned for him to continue. “I got us some side work for us to vote on. A girl needs a protected ride to Cali. She’s offering twenty thousand, but it’s gotta be now.”

  Conversation and dissenting opinions exploded as a result of the last-minute bomb Skids dropped on us all. Now I wondered if his ghosts and this girl who showed up at the clubhouse today was what he was referring to back at the prison.

  The rest of the guys sounded off in a cacophony of questions and objections.

  “Who is this gash?”

  “That’s a lot of cash for a ride!”

  “Right now? We can’t split ranks!”

  “It’s on the way. Fuck it!”

  “We don’t know her! Turn it down!”

  The gavel came crashing down, bringing all arguing to a halt. “We’ll have to put it up for a vote, but I don’t think this is a good time for it, Skids.” Tex glowered in exasperation, but as the subject had been duly brought up at the table, it had to be voted on.

  “It’s good money for somethin’ we’re doing anyways!” Skids hollered, rising to his feet.

  I didn’t know if the other guys picked up on it, but something was up with this job. Skids was too invested in it for some unknown reason, and it couldn’t just be the money. I knew him better than that. The old bastard was accustomed to living light and detached from his military days.

  “What if this bitch is a narc? I’m not willing to risk the coke money and our cred with the Legion over a girl we don’t know.” Tex was talking a lot of sense, and based on how he was showcasing his opinion, I could tell the club was going to side with him on this. “Let’s put it to a vote.”

  Skids saw it too. His eyes flashed in panic, and then he abruptly added, “Her name is Maya. She’s the daughter of the Hangers’ prez.”

  Everyone stared at each other for confirmation on what they all were thinking.

  “You’re telling me she’s the daughter of the Iron Legion’s biggest rival? How do you know this girl?” Tex demanded skeptically.

  “What matters is that we have an opportunity to hurt the rivals of the club we’re trying to get in bed with. Right now, if we do the coke mule gig, the Legion will just be making us a support chapter. We’ll be sucking their dick for what? They’ll kick us some jobs here and there, but we’ll be connected to them in name only. If we show them we can hurt their enemies too, we’ll get a full patch over. That means voting rights, a bigger presence here, and help dealing with those pushing in on Topeka.” Skids sat back down and gauged the group once again.

  The old man made a compelling argument. Even Tex had to think that over. “Let’s vote. Bring the mystery girl with us? Nay,” he kicked it off then let everyone else weighed in.

  “No!”

  “Yay!”

  “Nay!”

  “Yeah...”

  “Of course!” Skids grunted, his frustration clearly apparent. I knew he was lying and was trying to play the bluff like he was indignant that they’d question his wisdom.

  Skids turned to me expectantly, an inkling of growing doubt hinted in his weary features about whether or not I had been able to see through him.

  I thought it over. Suddenly introducing an extremely unpredictable variable into a dangerous run that could potentially get us all a few decades behind bars? Not to mention drawing some crazy heat from the Hangers if they found out the girl was gone and with us? Assuming, of course, if I believed Skids’s story in the first place. Desperate men will say anything.

  Any way I sliced it, I thought it was a fucking terrible idea.

  “Yay,” I decided, pushing down that doubt. For some reason, I could see that this really mattered to Skids. I trusted him. I had to. Despite everything, he had my back, and I needed to have his. That was how this worked. Otherwise, what was the point of it all?

  “Motion passes,” Tex grumbled with a disapproving shake of his head, obviously displeased. “Make sure she’s here on time. I’ll be goddamned if I hold us up on her account. Any more business before the gavel falls? No? Good. Let’s get the fuck outta here! We’ve gotta party to attend!”

  “That was close, old man,” I muttered as I leaned in toward Skids.

  “Yeah, it’s a good thing you’re back home—for however long that lasts.” He headed for the door before turning back for me. “I’ll keep my end of the bargain.” Then he left, phone in hand, about to make a call.

  Skids was still sore about me leaving the club.

  Through the open door, I could see the main room filling up with old and new faces as the party kicked off.

  “Junk. A minute?” Tex asked as everyone else shuffled out. “What was that with Skids?”

  “Just hashing out th
e end game, man.”

  “Fair enough. Not all that happy about the way you voted. You just tipped the scales in a very unpredictable way. I thought you were smarter than that.”

  “What can I say? I get a little unpredictable when blackmail gets thrown around.” Only half the reason I voted against him was spite. The other half was loyalty. Intelligence had to take a back seat this time around.

  “Things are a little crazy right now. Lotta moving parts. I need to make sure prison didn’t... I don’t know... twist you all up, you know? Gotta make sure that the Junkyard I remember is still in there and thinking about what’s best for the club in this... sensitive time.” Tex was fishing for info so hard, I wanted to check myself for hooks.

  “That Junkyard bled out on the floor in a prison shower because his club turned their backs on him. Or maybe it was just the new C.E. president who turned his back.”

  “Careful...,” Tex rumbled in a deep tone, eyeing me menacingly.

  I swung around to address him directly. “From where I’m sitting, Prez, ‘What’s best for the club’ seems to be… open to interpretation these days.”

  “You missed a lot, brother. A little gun-running money never would’ve sustained us. I’m looking at the long haul here. The Coffin Eaters wouldn’t have survived without me stepping up.”

  “That line of bullshit tuck you in at night? Does it ‘finish you off’ before bed too?” I made a jerking-off gesture at him, then walked over to his chair and sat on the table so I could speak more privately. “I noticed there are a few more pictures on that wall that shouldn’t be there. All of them were real supporters of that Russian deal we set up. What happened, Tex? Some convenient accidents? I also found out that you had me kill those two Russians before the deal was off. You used me to help sabotage our relationship with them, then you left me to die by their retaliation. The leadership under Miles looked weak as a result, making it real easy for you to challenge him, especially when you had a new connection to our saviors, the Iron Legion, in your pocket. Really, a brilliant plan. Gotta say, I’m impressed.” I finished with a deliberately slow, mock clap.