by Bourne, Lena
“They weren’t,” Horse says. “Not until that piece of shit Ink came back into town. Somehow he joined them, and now it seems he’s managed to make his beef with us their beef.”
I know exactly how Ink joined us. That story was the inspiration for what I’m trying to do right now. I don’t know if Cross would go to war over Ink’s grievances against the Sinners, but I wouldn’t think twice about it. Ink saved my life not that long ago and almost died for his trouble. That’s what got him into our club, and I won’t ever forget it. But for the purposes of the here and now, I’m supposed to hate Ink’s guts and I best not forget that.
“Fucking hell, that’s the worst kinda news. Those guys have no souls. They’re devils for real, worse even.” Out of the corner of my eye I see Piston swallow hard in fear. “And once they’re set on the kill they don’t give up.”
Piston actually whimpers at that. It’s a barely perceptible sound, but I hear it. I’m feeling the fear too. What if posing as a Spawn was a dumb idea? What if they’re so scared of the Devils coming after me that they won’t invite me back to the clubhouse because of it?
“They’ll come after you hard, now that they know you’re here, won’t they?” Horse asks. He strikes me as being marginally brighter than his little brother. And he just put his finger right on the pulse of my fear.
I shrug. “They’ve been after me for awhile now. I know how to avoid them and how to lay low.”
They nod solemnly, but neither says anything. Piston keeps glancing at his brother, as though pleading with him to continue the conversation, but Horse seems as much at a loss for words as his brother is.
“I could use a place to hide out for a couple of days,” I say, realizing I’m gonna have to force the invitation back to their clubhouse out of them.
“You sure could, yeah,” Piston says, smiling and nodding and agreeing with me like a goddam moron.
How about at your clubhouse? I almost snap at him, but manage not to.
“And the sweet attentions of a lady, if you know what I mean,” I say instead, grinning. “Booze and an experienced woman are the best cure for taking the edge off after a fight.”
That’s true as a general rule, and I’ve always followed it religiously, though taking pleasure in random women has lost its shine for me in the last couple of years. Maybe I’m getting old, or maybe I’ve just seen too much and done too much. Maybe nothing can take the edge off all that anymore. And if anything can, I’m pretty sure it’s not a woman. They’re great for a night, or a couple of months even, but eventually every one of them becomes a problem all on her own. Still, it’d be nice to spend some time with one tonight. I bet they have both booze and ladies aplenty back at their clubhouse, and once I’m there, at least a part of my task will be completed. A job done well goes a long way to making my life worth living these days.
They laugh, Piston kinda nervously, Horse trying to sound like a man, but failing.
“Ain’t that the truth, man,” Horse says.
“Come back with us to our clubhouse,” Piston says excitedly. “Our Pop’s the club president and he’s not gonna like what the Devils tried to do to us tonight. I bet he’s gonna want to move against them. You can help, and get your own revenge while helping us. Kill two birds with one stone, as it were.”
Horse is frozen like he can’t believe he just heard his brother say all that to me, a relative stranger. I’m frozen too, because Piston’s words are a distant, yet very clear echo of the words Cross said to me when he invited me to join the Devils. Join us and we’ll help you take out your enemies. This was after I lost my last remaining family member to the revenge we were unsuccessfully waging. Cross was true to his word. And I don’t know if it’s the choking memories of that time flooding my mind, or the suggestion I’m gonna be going against the men who gave me back my life all those years ago, but I suddenly don’t think any of this is a good idea at all. But whether it’s intuition or just me being a coward doesn’t even matter. I’m going with them. I’m gonna do what Cross tasked me with to the best of my ability.
Horse recovers quicker than me. He clears his throat then says, ”Yeah, man, follow us back to our clubhouse.”
“And we’ve got plenty of women and booze,” Piston chimes in, grinning like an idiot. The smile makes him look like he’s barely out of puberty. Did I ever look this young? Maybe, but I sure as hell don’t remember it.
“It’s not far,” Piston adds, revs his bike and drives off. Horse nods at me to go first, and I do. He takes up the rear.
I’m in.
Now I just have to keep my head from exploding with all the memories this whole thing dredged up, so I can do my job and get back out.
Maybe my first instinct was right, maybe a woman would help. But then again, no woman’s ever helped me with anything in the long run.
* * *
We turned left off the main road right before we reached the town then rode for a good mile into the darkness. The last half-mile stretch of the road was rough gravel, so my mouth was dry and my face uncomfortably itchy from the dust before Horse finally stopped in front of a wide wooden door in a wall at least eight feet high. Off to the side of the gate the entrance to the bar stood open, music, the noise of conversation and cigarette smoke rolling out into the night.
Someone opened the gate for us and I followed the guys into a lot, which, as far as I could tell in the darkness, stretched for a good long way beyond the two low buildings dominating it. One of those is the bar, and the other the clubhouse proper, which stands parallel across the lot. The man on the gate didn’t ask who I was, by which I read that the brothers have a high enough standing among the other MC members to do what they want. Befriending them will go a long way in learning the identity of the snitch. Or maybe their security is just that lax, though I doubt that.
“Come,” Horse tells me as I park my bike next to his in the covered part of the yard.
I fall in step with him and he leads me to the bar by a side entrance, his brother taking up the rear. The noise of music and loud conversations gets progressively louder as we approach the door, and a woman is once again at the top of my mind. A soft willing club girl who doesn’t know me and never will. That’ll be the best way to deal with my nervousness over this whole job.
Though maybe it’s too early to relax. I’m not done with this day’s work yet. The hardest part, the part where I convince their daddy to let me stay is yet to come. I shouldn’t be thinking about relaxing yet. Hell, I shouldn’t be thinking about relaxing until my work here is done and delivered.
I vow to do that right before we enter the noisy, packed bar. A single, sweeping glance around the hot, smoky room, shows me all the ladies. They’re like roses in a garden of weeds and thorny plants that are the rough men sharing this space with them. Impossible to not see, in other words.
I’m trying real hard not to start picking out the prettiest among them as I follow Horse deeper into the bar.
Every one of the rather small wooden tables is occupied by upwards of three guys. Some have the roses in their laps, and some of the roses are wearing nothing but thongs and high heels, if that much. The air is hazy from all the cigarette smoke, thick enough to make my eyes water, but it doesn’t quite manage to mask the smell of spilt beer, cheap spirits, leather and old sweat.
There’s an air of celebration to the happening in the place, with lots of men drinking toasts and some even singing.
“The sons return!” An old guy yells as he spots Horse and Piston walking in. “The party started hours ago, where were you?”
Horse ignores him, but Piston smiles widely at the warm welcome. It makes him look ten years younger, and like an even bigger pussy.
“Your Pop wants to see you right away,” another guy tells Horse. This one doesn’t sound drunk enough to pass out like most of the guys in here clearly are, and the pointed look in his eyes as he says it suggests their old man set him this job personally, and that whatever the old man has to sa
y to them isn’t good news. I think Horse sees that too, because his already scowling face turns even darker and somehow grows even thinner and longer. I wonder if that’s how he got his name—his face sure is long enough to be called horsey. But that’s neither here nor there, so I ignore the thought.
“You might as well come with us to see the old man,” Horse says to me. “He’ll want to meet you after we tell him what happened.”
I shrug and glance over the room one more time, kinda pretending that I’d rather stay back and enjoy myself in here, but I follow swiftly enough.
Speaking of finding the prettiest of roses among these thorns, there she is--a tall, curvy goddess tossing empty beer bottles into a trashcan by the bar. The white tank top she’s wearing isn’t pulled up high enough to cover the red lace of the bra that’s struggling to contain the two perfectly round, bouncy balls of her breasts, and her jean short-shorts are just short enough to show me the two mounds of her ass, and give me a glimpse of what’s waiting for me between those long legs of hers. Her hair is the color of honey, soft brown overlaid with gold, and it falls in lazy, large waves down to the middle of her back.
Man, I can’t wait to wrap those locks around my fist.
My dick responds to the thought, and all that follows, with a mind of it’s own. Her hair catches the overhead light, creating a sort of halo above her head, so all the while I’m trying to make eye contact with her, she just keeps glowing brighter and brighter, despite the bluish haze hanging over the room, despite the lack of actual light. By the time I’m almost next to her, I’m only sure of two things: she’s the only rose worth seeing in this whole place and she’s spending the rest of the night with me. As soon as I’m done introducing myself to Griff, I’m picking this flower.
Her eyes finally flick up and lock on mine once we’re abreast of her. I put all my interest in her and my plans for the two of us into my eyes and hers widen for a second, her plump, round, glossy pink lips parting in the most enticing way.
“Get back to work, Stormi, you lazy bitch,” Horse snaps and shoves her out of his way, making her hip collide with the edge of the metal counter and bringing a momentary flash of pain into her sparkling golden-brown eyes. The next second they’re dead and flat. The magic that we had going when our eyes met is gone as though I just imagined it.
“She was working,” I mutter without thinking.
Relief floods me when Horse turns back while opening a door to the side of the bar counter to ask what I said. I shake my head and don’t repeat it as I follow him and Piston into the hallway beyond the door. It’s none of my business how they treat the club girls around here, and not my place to demand they treat them better. But if this is how it is around here, then I doubly can’t wait to get the fuck out of here again. When I’m with a woman, I want her to want it too, not be forced into liking it.
The walls of this hallway are paneled with wood, and the wooden floorboards don’t creak and shift at all as we walk, the way the ones inside the bar did. There’s no windows, and the left hand side is just wall. On the right hand side there’s three doors. The one at the end is the exit, I assume. Horse knocks on the door to the middle room, but doesn’t wait for an answer before opening the door and entering.
“You won’t believe what happened, Pop,” Piston says the moment the enters the room. “Ink came to The Nowhere with a bunch of those Devil’s Nightmare assholes and tried to kill us. If it weren’t for this guy, we’d be dead.”
He grabs my arm and pulls me forward to better show me to the old man. Griff has the same long face as Horse, hanging jowls and watery eyes. Grey stubble is covering his rapidly reddening face. He’s standing behind his desk, leaning against it on his fists and he’s clearly not pleased about anything right now. His face is tight, his mouth is a thin line, and his eyes are shooting electricity.
“And you just fucking left Brick behind when you ran away like a couple scared little bitches,” he concludes Piston’s story sarcastically, his voice growing tighter and angrier with each word he speaks. He’s pressing his fists into the tabletop so hard his arms are shaking from the tension. “My sons, the biggest fucking screw ups I ever met.”
I was gonna introduce myself before he started speaking, now I just let my hand fall back by my side. Piston looks sad underneath the tightness in his face, but Horse’s face is darker than the night we just came in from.
This is not a good way for me to come to the old man’s attention. He might even kick me out on my ass in a minute.
“What do you have to say for yourselves?” the old man asks once the silence starts to drag.
“They came at us with knives…Brick can take care of himself…they meant to kill us,” Piston is saying, not finishing any of the sentences he’s starting.
“We’ll go back for him now,” Horse announces in a strangled voice.
“Don’t bother, I already sent someone,” his father says. “And everyone’s gonna know what cowardly fuck-ups you two are by tomorrow. You left an injured brother to fend for himself? How do you think the others are gonna take that? Then again, they all already know that about you. I’d hoped you’d stop proving it every chance you got by now.”
He’s not even letting them speak, nor does either of them look like they got much to say. Piston is looking at his boots, and Horse’s face and neck are already more black than red. He looks like a scalded, pissed off twelve year old.
I’d never leave one of my brothers behind like that, and I consider getting him out too, but I wasn’t sure he was even with them. The main thing was extricating the sons and they didn’t pause to try and collect anyone else as we fled.
The old man takes his fists off the table and walks to our side of it. He stops in front of me and offers me his hand.
“Griff,” he says as I shake it. “Thanks for having my boys’ backs tonight. Lord knows they can’t take care of themselves yet.”
“Ace,” I say. “And I only did what was right. That Devil scum, they think they can just do whatever the fuck they want. Well, not on my watch!”
Griff arches an eyebrow at the venom in my voice, but nods all the same.
“They’re annoying pests, but I’d rather not have to deal with them right now,” he says, throwing a pointed look at Piston and Horse, before fixing his watery eyes on mine again. I’ve never seen such watery brown eyes on a man. “Why do you hate them so much?”
I swallow and call up all the hatred I ever felt before answering.
“I’m Satan’s Spawn MC. The only member left. They killed all my brothers. Butchered them like dogs,” I say, letting all the hatred flow out with my voice. “And when I saw that butcher Ice with them tonight, threatening your sons, I just wanted to kill them all. I wish I got the chance tonight.”
“You’ll get another chance soon,” Horse puts in. “We’re not gonna let what happened today go unpunished. We’re gonna let them know who we are and that we’re not to be messed with! Won’t we, Pop?”
I’m still seeing the angry twelve year old in his face, and now I’m hearing him in his voice too. But this is too good an opening to pass up.
“I’ll help you with that,” I say. “Gladly and well.”
The mocking look in Griff’s eyes as he considered Horse’s words tells me more insults were coming before I spoke up, but whatever he was gonna say goes unsaid as he turns back to me.
“I appreciate your offer, but we’re not moving against the Devils. Not yet, anyway. And my son is very well aware of the whys of that decision,” he says to me. “But you’re welcome to stay and enjoy our hospitality here. And who knows, maybe the chance for you to get your revenge will come up.”
His determined, icy tone makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Despite the vague words, I’m sure he already knows exactly what that revenge is gonna look like. I could call Cross right now, tell him Griff is a danger to us and might even be the snitch, and I’m sure I’d be right.
I let the idea go. I got n
o proof and Cross needs proof.
“But, Pop, they were gonna kill us,” Horse whines, but his father stops him with a curt look.
“Sounds good, sir,” I tell Griff, who tells us to leave after that.
I follow Horse and Piston back out to the bar.
I’m in.
I should be overjoyed about that. But as it is, I doubt even the round, pretty blonde out there will be enough to make me forget the cold threat against my club, against the only family I have left in this world, that Griff just uttered.
3
Stormi
Who’s the new guy?
That’s pretty much all that shot through my mind when that guy passed me, his light blue eyes plainly telling me he noticed me, and wanted to do much more than just look at me. It came in the fiery, confident voice I used to speak to myself with once upon a time, before I became the Sinners’ slave.
It’s been months since a guy noticing me stirred anything other than dread or disgust in me. I spend most nights behind the bar, completely engrossed in any and all menial task I can find, and, for the most part, it’s been enough to save me from getting noticed by the Sinners and their guests. Let the other girls have fun with them…that’s not why I’m here, as Horse very plainly showed me earlier by calling me a lazy bitch and whatnot.
Well, fuck you, Horse. I’m ready to walk out of here the second you decide to kick me out and release me from this slavery.
Maybe I should’ve just said that to him before. I sure wanted to. Not that anything like that will ever happen—neither me speaking up nor them kicking me out. The ever part of that is a new realization, one I’ve only recently started to accept as fact.
But I’m interested in the new guy. Interested in a way I haven’t been for months. Maybe I should take advantage of that. Maybe he’d keep the others away if I hooked up with him. But then again, when has hooking up with a guy ever led to anything good for me? Never, that’s when.
