by M. Robinson
When she introduced us, I couldn't help but stare, he was really handsome, but scary looking too. He carried guns on him like Uncle Dylan, but Aunt Briggs said he wasn’t in the police force, so I didn’t really understand why he had them. He didn’t talk much, but when he did, he had somewhat of a Spanish accent. Aunt Briggs didn’t seem to care for him very much, at least they didn’t seem close.
Curiosity got the best of me. I couldn't hear what they were saying, so I ran and hid beside a nearby red car, peeking over the hood. I felt like I was in a Nancy Drew story, spying and looking for clues. They were in each other's face, yelling something I still couldn't make out. Both of them trying to stand bigger than the other. It reminded me of two Pitbull dogs, fighting over territory. Aunt Briggs’ uncle reached into his jacket and pulled out something that looked like a stick, handing it to Creed. Looking around, making sure no one was watching them. I crouched down behind the car again, hiding. The last thing I wanted was to get caught snooping.
A loud noise sounded, making me jump up. Creed’s hands connected with the roof of the limo, furious. Martinez was already gone, he must have walked back into the reception.
I don’t know why, but there was something about the way Creed looked that scared me. Kind of like Aunt Briggs’ uncle scared me. He had a certain glare in his eyes which was new and unfamiliar, making me extremely nervous and wary of him. Before I knew what I was doing, I turned, taking off toward the restaurant.
That’s when I heard him yell, “Not so fast, Pippin.” I immediately stopped.
I took a deep breath, spinning back around to face him. “I—”
“Was being nosey. Up to no good,” Creed interrupted, making his way over to me. His shadow looming over my small frame.
How did he get so much bigger? Why did he look so different?
“No…” I murmured, loud enough for him to hear.
“No?” he repeated, folding his arms over his muscular chest, accentuating his stalky frame.
I acted fast, holding the skirt of my dress out, swaying side to side. Shuffling my heels on the pavement. Smiling wide, peeking up at him through my lashes, trying to act all cute.
I muttered in the sweetest voice, “Do you like my dress?”
He arched an eyebrow, nodding. “Think that’s gonna work on me? May work wit’ your daddy, but won't fly with me. What are you doin’ out here?”
I sighed, rolling my eyes. Mostly disappointed that he didn’t even acknowledge my dress when I looked so pretty. He was being so cold to me, nothing like the man I once knew. I couldn’t tell if it was me he was mad at or what went down with Martinez, either way…
I didn’t like this side of Creed.
“Not gonna ask again, Pippin,” he sternly stated.
“I was just…” I shrugged. “I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop. I mean not really… I didn’t hear anything, I promise. Even if I did, I wouldn’t tell anybody. I’m not a snitch. You can trust me,” I rambled on.
He shook his head. “Could get hurt, standin’ out here. Overhearin’ conversations between men that don’t concern you.”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t be having those kinds of conversations in public. Where anyone can walk out and overhear.”
“That lip is gonna get you in trouble one day.”
“I’m just saying…”
“I know what you’re not sayin’. Why you came out here in the first place. Out with it, Pippin. Ain’t got all day.”
“I wanted to see you, okay?” I honestly admitted. “That’s all. I saw you from the window inside. I haven’t seen you in a really long time, over a year actually.” I looked down at my sparkling pink toes, embarrassed. Fidgeting with the ribbon on my dress. “I missed you,” I muttered, barely above a whisper.
He didn't say anything, if it wasn’t for his combat boots being close to my feet, I’d think he took off. Nothing happened for what felt like a long time.
Then he suddenly reached over, placing his index finger under my chin. Making me look back up at him again. I blinked away some tears that started to form in my eyes. I think I may have stopped breathing. My belly fluttered, except this time, I felt it all over my body.
He looked deep into my eyes, in a comforting way, dropping his hand. Taking a few seconds to think about what he was going to say. I glanced down at his vest, his Creed patch was gone. Replaced with one that read Vice Prez instead. I couldn't help but notice any of my patches were on his vest either.
“You look cute as shit,” he rasped out of nowhere.
I beamed, peering up at him instantly. My heart soaring once again.
“Gonna be fuckin’ gorgeous one day, that’s for damn sure. Slayin’ hearts. Boys linin’ up out the door for you. Your old man knows it, too. It’s why he keeps you under lock and key. Doesn’t want to end up behind bars for beatin’ ass. Don’t blame him either. You’ll meet a cocky little shit who’ll promise you the world,” he paused, letting his words sink in. “You ain’t even gonna remember me.”
“I’ll always remember you.”
“May seem that way right now, Pippin. You’re a baby girl. Got years of growin’ up to do. Yeah?”
“Yeah,” I simply stated.
He stepped back, looking at me one last time. “Best be stayin’ out of trouble, ya hear? Stay little.” With that, he turned and left.
Jumping on his bike, he threw on his helmet, and leaned forward, revving up the engine. The back of his vest rose up, as he took off, exposing a shiny black piece of metal.
I stopped smiling.
Unable to ignore the fact…
That Creed was now carrying a gun, too.
CREED
It had been a year and a half since I took over as Vice Prez. I was almost twenty-years-old and I’d put more people to ground than the average brother. It was the same ol’ shit, just a different day. Marching to my father’s fucking drum, paying the price when I stepped out of line, which I did often just to spite him. With my new title, came a newfound respect amongst the brothers. Not to mention the club whores that went out of their way to please me the only way they knew how.
I was second in command, meaning no one fucked with me. I stopped allowing myself to feel. I just did whatever was needed of me without a second thought. But my loyalty to the club cost me my morality, and without a conscience, a man was capable of anything. I didn’t even recognize the man staring back at me in the mirror anymore.
Creed was gone.
Vice Prez was born.
“Think we wouldn’t have fuckin’ found out?” I interrogated the broker of the trucking company that moved our drug shipments across the state.
I tied them to a chair, ready to use any means of torture necessary to make him fucking talk. His two men in the same situation seated on the right and left of him, with duct tape over their mouths. Diesel and I had rolled up to the downtown warehouse, where all the loading docks for the trucks were stationed. Taking Jerico and his men by surprise, standing locked and loaded outside when they lifted the bay door to let us in. Diesel shot both men in the knees, bringing them down before Jerico even had a chance to blink his goddamn eyes.
Being the pussy ass motherfucker he was, he took off running. Making it about four steps when I nodded to Diesel to shoot him in the leg, too. He dropped to the cement, yelling obscenities in Spanish, trying to crawl away from us. I didn’t hesitate. I grabbed him by his ponytail, dragged his ass over to an old rusty folding chair, leaving a trail of blood in his wake. Using cable ties, I secured his hands behind his back and his legs to the chair. Diesel did the same with his two men, duct taping their mouths shut. I needed to talk to Jerico, not his fucking henchmen.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jerico spit out, shuddering in his seat. Suspiciously, looking around the dark warehouse, for I don’t know what.
“Is that right?” I drawled out, slowly walking around where he sat, making him fucking nervous. Stopping to the left of him. “Blowin’ smoke up my ass
ain’t gonna help your situation,” I whispered over his shoulder. Sweat pooling at his temples.
“We’ve been doing business with Devil’s Rejects for a long time. Why would I fuck that up?”
“Cuz you’re a greedy fuck.” Taking the barrel of my gun, I jabbed it into his good kneecap. “Don’t appreciate bein’ lied to, especially to my fuckin’ face,” I scoffed out, pulling the trigger.
“Arggggghhhh! Motherfucka’!” he screamed in pure agony, struggling to get his hands free.
“That’s for lyin’ to me. There are plenty more where that came from. I suggest you man the fuck up and tell me why you’re traffickin’ drugs over the border for those sons of bitches, Sinner’s Rejoice. When you work for us,” I reminded, crouching down to his level, getting right up in his face. “So, stop feedin’ me your crock of bullshit before I decide I don’t want to play fuckin’ nice anymore.”
“Listen,” he coaxed with a quivering jaw. “I’ll be honest with you. Sinner’s did approach me, but I told them straight up, ese,” he accentuated in a thick Spanish accent. “We only do business with you.”
“Were you only doin’ business with us last week, when Pedro here,” I nodded to the other motherfucker in the chair beside him. “Moved twenty fuckin’ kilos of blow on our route for them? It’s our fuckin’ territory, Jerico. Been our turf for a long fuckin’ time. Think you could drive your trucks through our rounds and us not know about it? Thought you were smarter than that. Hate to be proved wrong.”
“Creed, it’s not what it looks like,” he justified, looking me dead in the eyes.
“Ohhhhh, so you do know what I'm talkin’ about, you fuck?”
He opened his mouth to say something, but I backhanded him with the butt of my gun, silencing him. “Give me a name,” I ordered through a clenched jaw.
The grenades I used three years ago killed their Prez and Vice Prez. We thought the club was gone until recently they popped up out of nowhere, maybe stronger than before, but we had no intel on them. I needed to know who had taken over and was running the goddamn show. I needed names and I needed them right fucking now.
“Creed, it’s—” I stood, grabbing him by the back of the head, slamming my knee his face several times, practically knocking him the fuck out. His head bobbled as he tried to blink through the haze. Jerico’s bludgeoned face, becoming unrecognizable from all the blood.
A door slammed shut, and footsteps drew near. “Boss, you aiight?” a man questioned, appearing out of the darkness. “What the fuck is going on here?”
I turned around, looked him right in his eyes and shot him in the fucking head, clear across the room. His body fell to the ground with a thud. I didn’t falter, aiming my gun at the center of Jerico’s forehead next.
“Give me a name,” I demanded, shoving my gun deeper into his skin. “Or you won’t crawl out of here alive,” I gritted out, losing the last bit of patience I had.
“My men will find you and kill you.”
“Ain’t that a bitch. Good thing I don’t give a flyin’ fuck if I die. Can you say the same, motherfucker?”
His eyes met mine, widening at the realization that I wasn’t bluffing.
“Give me a reason,” I breathed out. “Give me one fuckin’ reason why I shouldn’t pull the trigger, and lay you the fuck out for betrayin’ us after everythin’ we’ve done for you, you spic-ass son of a bitch.”
His chest heaved and his nostrils flared, his mind reeled with uncertainty. I cocked the pistol deeper into his forehead, causing his head to jerk back. He swallowed hard, clearing his throat, holding his head up higher.
Mocking me.
“You got three fuckin’ daughters,” I spoke with conviction, catching him off guard. “Diesel, ever been with a Latina?”
“No, man. Haven’t had the fuckin’ pleasure.”
“Veronica has the best cock suckin’ lips on this side of the border.” I snidely smiled, talking about his wife. “Jerico, how did an ugly fuck like you, bag some pussy like her?”
“Fuck you!”
“No thanks, already fucked your wife,” I rasped, grinning.
“YOU SON OF A BITCH! YOU’RE A FUCKING LIAR!” he screamed at the top of his lungs, whipping around the chair, almost knocking it over.
We were used to the theatrics that came along with our interrogations. We didn't pay him any mind as he visibly struggled, trying to get loose. He wasn’t going anywhere unless I wanted him to. I waited until he tired himself out, until there was no fight left in him and all he’d do was roll over and play fucking dead. Blood gushing out of him.
I crouched down again, leaning forward close to his face. Cocking my head to the side, I murmured, “Wonder if your baby girls wanna ride my cock as much as your wife did,” I viciously spewed.
“You leave them alone, you motherfucker!”
I smiled wide, my eyes wild and brazen. “Can’t do that. Give me a name or Diesel and I are gonna pay a little visit to your baby girls. Always wanted to run a train on your oldest daughter’s culo,” I mocked, saying ass in Spanish. “Don’t worry, though. I’ll make her deep-throat my cock before I take her up the ass. Wouldn’t want to tear anythin’. Can’t say the same for Diesel.”
He jerked forward, wrestling to break free. “If you lay one finger on them—”
“I’m gonna count to three, and if I don’t get a name, I’ll fuckin’ kill you, but not before I make you watch your daughters get fucked in the ass by my cock while Diesel has them deep throat his fuckin’ Glock. Just to see which load gets off first.”
“You—”
I suddenly raised my arm, aiming my gun to his boy tied to the chair on his right. “One,” I counted, putting a bullet between his eyes. Blowing his fucking head off, blood and brains splattered behind him. “Give me a name,” I repeated, aiming my gun over to the man in the same setup on his left. He was thrashing around, already knowing his fate.
I looked at Jerico.
“Please, enough. Don’t—”
“Two.” I pulled the trigger again, more blood, more brains.
More fucking death.
I was done playing games. I was never one for using women or loved ones as bait or collateral, but that didn’t stop the brothers from letting it happen in the club. As much I didn’t want to, I had to look the other way. Let it happen, whether I wanted it to or not.
It just is what it is.
I walked over to Jerico, placing the barrel of my gun under his chin. “Last chance, motherfucker. Or we’re takin’ a ride home.”
Cowering away from me, he closed his eyes tight.
“Thr—”
“Marcus!” he yelled out. “His name is fuckin’ Marcus.”
“He wit’ Sinner’s?”
“I don’t know. He came here with some of them.”
“He have a cut on?”
“A what?”
“A fuckin’ cut. Like a vest, motherfucker, like a vest.”
“I don’t think so.”
“You don’t think so, or you don’t know?”
“I don’t know. I don’t remember.”
I didn’t waver, I aimed the gun to his right inner thigh and pulled the trigger. He screamed out in pain, gasping for air. Convulsing right in front of me.
“Next bullet will go three inches to the left,” I warned, gesturing to his cock.
With quivering lips, he trembled, “He had on a cut.”
I grinned. “Thought that would jog your memory. Funny how that fuckin’ works, yeah?”
He nodded, grinding his teeth.
I took one last look at him, growling, “Fuck you very much.” Turning to leave. “On second thought.” I spun back around, shoving my gun in his mouth and roared, “You don’t fuck with the Devil’s Rejects and live to see another day.” I pulled the trigger, needing to end it once and for all. I got what I came for. End of story.
I nodded to Diesel and we got the hell out of there, expecting retaliation as soon as we got on our bikes. Read
y to go to war, not giving a shit…
That more people would die.
There was no conscience left inside of me.
It died the day Vice Prez was stitched on my cut.
TEN
CREED
“Jesus Christ, Autumn. How many damn times do I have to tell ya that I don’t want you here when I’m not around?” I snapped, pissed off she didn’t listen to me.
Again.
The last thing I wanted was to worry about her too. I had enough shit on my mind. Between the club, Noah and Ma, my plate was fucking full. Noah would be starting high school in the fall, and God only knows what kind of trouble he was going to start getting into. He was already a little shit in middle school, having countless infractions sent home. Ma would get phone calls weekly, but she was too drunk to give a fuck. He barely had any supervision as it was. As much as I wished I could be in more places at one time, my priority was the club. Ma and Noah came in a close second. Noah was already starting to rebel, going toe-to-toe with me a few fucking times, wanting me to see him for the man he felt like he was.
Pops was no help when it came to him either. Proud as fuck that he was mouthing off in the first place, not taking shit from anyone. Except him. I didn’t want Noah to grow up and be a troublemaker like I was. I wanted a better life for him, but there was only so much I could do. I wasn’t around a lot, I had to travel all over the place to make sure other chapters under Devil’s Rejects were running smoothly. Just when I thought things might slow down and I could find a balance, some goddamn normalcy, unexpected shit would happen, and I would be back on the road again. It had been two years since I became VP, and I was on the road more often than not.
Noah needed a role model in his life, someone to look up to. The scary thing was, I knew he wanted to be just like me.
“Why do you worry so much? All I do is walk into the clubhouse, go into your room, and wait for you. I barely see anyone on my way in and let’s face it, no one’s going to mess with me anyway, Creed. They know I’m yours,” she said, pulling me away from my thoughts.
