by Kane Daemon
“Passive ear muffs,” Sadie said and handed me a set. “Should be empty since everyone is in church or outside watching the place.”
The gun range had three stalls and each stretched for a good fifty-feet. Sadie ducked under one of the stall counters and attached a target to a hook hanging from the ceiling. She returned and then opened two of the cases sitting on a table behind us.
“Nine-millimeter Lugers.” She loaded both weapons and handed me one of the guns. “The target is set at twenty-feet. If you have to use a gun, your target is probably fast approaching, and you don’t have more than twenty-feet to fire. The Luger has a seven-round single stack magazine.”
I released the magazine, looked at it, and then popped it back into the gun, a bullet already in the chamber. “My father had me fire something similar. A bit of a recoil, but I learned to adjust and track my target.”
Sadie smirked and stepped up to the counter. She slid the muffs over her ears, looked back at me, and then eyed the target. I covered my ears and watched her get off seven consecutive shots. She turned and smiled. “Your daddy teach you to do that?” She’d put every bullet in the heart of the target.
I moved past Sadie to the next stall. She stood behind me. “No, he taught me to do this.” I emptied the clip into the target, and Sadie stepped forward. She laughed and slapped me on the ass.
“Touche,” she said and stared at the target’s head. A bullet hole in each eye and five in the forehead. “My father was a good man. He taught me how to take care of myself.”
“That why you left Mike?”
I removed the muffs and put the gun on the counter. “What did you say?”
“You heard me right, Carrie. Nobody walks into the club who hasn’t been vetted.”
“You spied on me?”
“Honey, you’ve still got a lot to learn.” She returned the guns to their cases. “You damn well better believe Zane did his homework on you.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Zane
Trucker sat at the head of the table, flanked by Stringer on one side and Draven Maddox, the Sargent At Arms, on the other.
“We have no fucking clue who could have murdered Bain’s ol’ lady?”
Stringer shrugged and started pacing the room. “We’ve been told he thinks it’s a revenge killing for Amanda's murder.” Stringer looked back at me.
I sat in a chair along the wall with other members. “If you’re somehow insinuating I did it, you’re full of shit, Stringer. If you’re asking me if Bain thinks our club did it, then yeah, I believe he thinks that.” I made eye contact with Trucker, who still blamed me for leaving Amanda alone that night.
Trucker shifted his eyes to the table and picked at his fingernails. “Nobody in this room gave the okay for a hit on his ol’ lady. But that doesn’t much matter right now. Bain believes what he believes, and they’ll be coming at us.”
“We’ve got everyone on site except for Claire McCaskill,” Stringer said.
Trucker looked up at Rocky McCaskill, the club Secretary. “Your ol’ lady safe?”
Rocky’s eyes darted side to side. “Yeah, she’s with her mother. Should be back this evening. I’ll head out to bring her back when we’re done.”
“Take a couple of Prospects with you.” Trucker nodded at me. “You’re here, might as well have your say.”
“Let me talk to Bain,” I said. “I think he’ll listen.”
Trucker chuckled. “The motherfucker will take your head off if you try to talk to him.” He used air quotes around the word talk. “I don’t think we have any other choice but to take the fight to them. They’ve been aching to get it on for years. Now they have a reason.”
“I still think we should give it a try. Bain brings the fight here, and more than just members are going to die. The place is packed with families.” I stopped talking when someone knocked on the door.
“What is it?” Trucker yelled.
The door opened, and the Prospect I saw at the front entrance walked in. “It’s Bain. He’s at the gate.”
“How many men?” Trucker asked.
“Just him.”
We looked at each other, surprised.
“There are two cops with him. They were sitting in their cruisers when Bain pulled up alone.”
“Looks like you got your chance,” Trucker said to me. “Go take care of business.”
I left the room, not surprised Trucker stayed behind. If Bain had come to kill the person he spoke to, then who better than me?
I closed the door behind me and found Carrie and Sadie waiting on the couch.
“You aren’t really going out there by yourself?” Carrie left the couch and walked with me. I glanced at Sadie, who cocked her brow and continued nursing her beer. She knew better than to interfere.
“He just wants to talk. I’ll make sure he understands we weren’t responsible and that everyone needs to stand down.” We passed Snyder, a scowl still on his face, and left the warehouse. “You need to wait right here.” She started to protest but stopped when I shook my head. “Remember, there are rules here.” I kissed her hard on the lips and walked away.
As I approached the gate, I looked back at the rooftop where a half-dozen members had their guns trained on Bain. He didn’t come to kill anyone. And the police would not stop him from dying.
“Bain,” I said. One of the prospects opened the chain-linked gate. Sliding it on its wheels to the side. “I’m sorry about your ol’ lady.”
“That because you had something to do with it?”
The two cops next to him, swallowed hard. Bain could break the two men into halves if he wanted. They looked like high school boys next to him.
“There’ll be bloodshed on both sides, Bain. Call off whatever you have planned, and let's talk.”
He nodded at the two officers, and they returned to their cruisers. “Then talk.”
“Not here. Your club.”
“You’re fool, Zane, walking into our club alone.”
“Consider it a goodwill gesture.”
Bain checked his watch. “Thirty minutes.” He walked away, got on his bike, and rode off.”
The Prospect closing the gate shook his head. “Brave son-of-a-bitch, Zane.”
“More like crazy.” I walked back to the warehouse entrance and took a seat next to Carrie. She had her eyes focused up at the stars.
“How’d that go?”
“I’m heading over to their club.”
“What?!”
I held up a hand for her to stop. “Rules, remember.”
Sadie came out and sat next to us. “Everything okay?”
“I’m going to be gone for a bit. Think you could set Carrie up in one of the rooms.” I put my hand on Carrie’s knee and gently squeezed. “Bain isn’t going to do anything while I’m there. He needs a challenge. Killing me at his club is way too easy.”
“What time will you be back?” Sadie asked. She lit a cigarette and blew out a stream of smoke.
“I think I may have to start smoking again.” Carrie put her hand against my cheek and kissed me. “Please be careful.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The Killer
Claire McCaskill. Small titties, big ass, and thick, gorgeous lips I was sure Rocky enjoyed having around his cock. A piece of pussy I couldn’t pass up.
She’d been on the list for a while. Her round, fuckable ass had moved her up my list of kills. Yeah, I had an ass fetish. America was a country of vices that were hidden behind fake, hypocritical personalities. It was nothing for a politician to have an underage piece of ass hidden away somewhere, just like it was nothing for a twenty-something piece of ass putting out so she could get her hands on some rich guy’s millions. They were no different than me. Just like Wall Street, I stole people’s lives.
She finished pumping her gas and climbed back into the Ford Explorer. When she pulled from the gas station, so did I.
I dialed her number, and she picked up on the first ring. “This is
Claire.”
“Hey, Claire, this is Frank at the club. Rocky wanted me to let you know the club has gone into lockdown.” Rule number one: never use your real name, and throw someone else under the bus if possible.
“I know. He called a few minutes ago.”
Fuck! “Yeah, he told me. He was called away on some club business and wants you to meet him. Real simple address, and it’s on your way.” Serial killing is about anticipating the victim's next move. Always be prepared for a change in plans.
I rattled off the address.
“That’s simple enough,” she said.
“He also said to park around back so your SUV can’t be seen.”
“Okay. I’m only a few minutes from there.”
I took the next right and sped through the small neighborhood, buying myself a few extra minutes, my dick growing hard with the thought of fucking Claire McCaskill. Things would be different with her. Sure, I would use my belt, but I would also use a few other toys I had waiting. Every vice had a sub-vice, and usually, the sub-vice was sicker than the vice itself. I had too many to mention, but I did like a ball and gag. I also liked restraints, and I wanted blood. Lots of blood.
I pulled to the front of the house and hurried inside. I dimmed the light in the living room, so she wasn’t walking into complete darkness. Rule number two of serial killing: never give away the plot.
Headlights lit up the back room and kitchen, and I moved into place. It was so easy sometimes that I almost felt bad. But feeling bad was always replaced by the feeling I was screwed over by the very clubs whose ol’ ladies I was killing. And when you screw over a man who has nothing else to lose, bad things happen. The club had to be held responsible. Without their actions, I would have no reactions. They drove me to kill.
A car door closed and the lights beaming into the room dimmed. My dick grew hard again.
The doorknob turned.
I raised my gun, holding my breath.
Slowly, the door opened inward, hiding me.
I took a gentle breath and moved into position.
“Hello?”
The door stopped moving, Claire on the other side, too close to the screen door behind her. Step inside, bitch.
“Rocky?”
Come on, bitch. Shut the fucking door.
I started to make an unnecessary move around the door when she finally moved into the room.
She saw me from the corner of her eye and then grabbed the doorknob. The side of her head met the butt of the gun. She went down hard and with a whiny whimper.
“Don’t fucking move, Claire.” She moved to her ass and leaned against the stove. Her lips started to move, and I shoved the gun against her forehead. “Don’t say my name, Claire. Don’t you fucking say it.”
“Rocky will fuck you up.”
I laughed. “That piece of shit couldn’t handle a school-yard bully.” I took a step back. “Get up. We’re going to take a trip to the basement.”
“Why’re you doing this? You know what the club will do to you when they find out.”
“The clubs fucked me over first.” I motioned at the stairs with the gun. “Get your little cunt down there.”
“You’re still carrying that shitty excuse?”
“You should probably stop talking, Claire.” I followed her down the steps and flicked on the light. She stopped and stared at the room.
Claire laughed but didn’t move. “Are you trying to scare me with all of this shit. You’re such an asshole. I bet you have a tiny dick, too.”
Rule number three: don’t let your victim get under your skin. It completely throws off the plan. “Move to the floor, Claire, and take off your clothes.”
“I’m not afraid of you.”
“You should be because I’m not the man you think you know.”
She undressed, leaving her red panties on, the crotch wet.
“I get it,” she said. “Rocky put you up to this. Though I don’t appreciate being hit that hard. I told him the kidnapping shouldn’t involve physical violence, but I think it adds to the darkness of the whole thing.” She grabbed the ball gag and wrapped it around her head, placing the ball between her teeth.
Part of me wanted to start laughing. The dumb bitch thought we were playing a game. Well, so be it. I put the gun down. “Yeah, Rocky told me to get you ready. He'll be here any minute. Sorry about the knock on the head. I pointed at the lounging sex chair. “Go ahead and hop on up there. He said to be sure your ass was nice and high.”
She did as I asked, and once she was in position, I placed restraints around her wrists and ankles. She was going nowhere fast. I checked the ball gag and tightened it enough to make her moan in pain.
“I think I heard the door upstairs open. Rocky should be down here at any moment.” I started to leave but then stopped, letting a smirk cross my face. “I almost forgot the blindfold.”
Claire said something, but it came out in a mumble. She held still while I placed the blindfold around her eyes. When finished, I gave her ass a good smack. “I think you’re ready now. Good luck.”
On the way up the stairs, I made sure the wooden steps creaked. When I got to the top of the stairs, I waited a moment and then went back down.
Claire tried to talk, but I said nothing in return. Instead, I sat behind her on the long, contoured chair, her ass practically in my face. She wiggled her ass, the red panties growing darker. If killing had an easy button, I’d apparently found it. I hated Rocky McCaskill as much as I hated Trucker. The club had fucked me over, and it was my turn to fuck it right back. So far, things were progressing nicely.
I pulled Claire's panties down off her plump ass and stopped at her knees. Her pussy glistened. I'd fucking struck gold no matter how temporary.
Placing a hand on each cheek, I spread them apart and stared at her dark hole, my mouth salivating. Claire mumbled, but I had no desire to hear her say anything. I did need to listen to her scream.
I moved my tongue up and down between her ass, her hole contracting when the tip eased inside. She squirmed and moaned, pressing her ass back. I wanted to tell her how good she tasted but wasn’t ready for her to hear my voice. Because when she did, the screams would begin. And when the screams started, the belt would go around her neck, cutting off her cries.
I moved back, making her beg, making her need insatiable. I moved between her cheeks again and licked harder. She responded by shoving her ass back into my face. I held her against me and fucked her with my tongue, her shuddering telling me what I already knew. She fucking loved it.
Would she still have enjoyed it if she knew the act would be her last? Maybe. Orgasms made people do crazy things. They changed people, creating a dark debauchery in the soul.
While eating her ass, I slowly removed my belt and created a loop.
Claire shook and squirmed. She moaned and cried. And then she came, her pussy dripping down my chest. I stood, and she seemed to panic. A slap on the ass stopped the fear.
I removed my pants and spat on my palm, running my palm over my dick's head. I then gently moved the loop around her head without touching her, the cool leather giving her a startle when it tightened around her neck, the ball between her teeth preventing her screams.
I watched her asshole constrict and loosen. Constrict and loosen as she panicked. When it loosened again, I ran my cock hard into the perfect little target.
“You see, Claire. You don’t really know who I am.”
She struggled hopelessly against the restraints, her ass tightening around my cock, the sensation delectably evil. Because I was evil. The man forced to fight back in a way that would hurt both clubs. I believed in being an equal opportunity killer. If elected President, I would give free healthcare, free schooling, and free condoms. I am an amalgamation of society. You helped create me.
When Claire finally gave in, accepting her fate, she relaxed, though tears still fell, as I fucked her to the hilt, pulling back on the belt, cutting off her circulation, cutting off
her air.
“You were nothing more than a pawn to the club, Claire. They used you as they use me. I am here because of them. I exist for and because of them. I am your alpha and omega Claire.”
She fell limp, her bowels relaxing.
“Goodbye, Claire. May hell welcome you with open arms.”
I released the belt and grabbed her hips, pulling her lifeless body back against me, coming deep inside her.
Like the others, her bladder emptied, and when I pulled my cock out of her ass, she shat all over the chair, my signal to quickly move away.
I moved to the front of the chair and removed the blindfold, Claire’s eyes large and protruding from their sockets. She’d taken one for the team.
Climbing the stairs to the first floor, I checked my watch. It was twenty minutes before I had to be back at the club. Yeah, it had been a lame excuse. I needed to run by the house and pick up another change of clothes since we were spending another night at the club. “Be careful,” Trucker had said. “Take a Prospect if you need to.”
No, I never cleaned my fingerprints from anything. I was the only Son of Malog to not have a criminal record. Therefore, I had no fingerprints on file. Would they suspect a club member of the atrocities? Each side already did. But I would be so low on the under-suspicion list that I did not need to worry.
I sat on the living room couch and pulled a photo from my pocket. She was a pretty young thing. Zane’s pretty young thing. Yeah, I really should have alternated back to killing a King Slayers’ bitch, but something about the sweet young thing's ass had my cock going.
Outside, I reached under the SUV’s back wheel well and removed the tracking device I had placed over a week ago when Rocky drove his wife’s vehicle to the club.
I drove back to my place and parked the Civic in my garage, covering it when I closed the garage door. Maybe I had a touch of paranoia. Don’t we all?
I rode my bike back to the club, my change of clothes in the pack on my back. When I pulled to the club gate, the Prospect on gate duty waved me inside.
