Age: 27

Place: Brooklyn, New York

It’s never a good move to piss on another club, steal their fucking drugs and make a run for it in the middle of the night. At least not when you’re dead fucking tired and sleep isn’t an option. Flickering in the distance, I spot the neon sign of the motel and pull off the side of the highway. This dive is a fucking palace compared to where I’ve been parked for the last week and that hard as fuck mattress inside my room is a fucking throne. Seeing how the other half lives opened my eyes, and while I never thought I’d say it, it’s good to be home.

Parking my bike in the back lot of the motel, my eyes dart around looking for Cobra’s bike, but of course I don’t see it. He’s got a real fucking place to lay his head at night, a warm body to curl into and a little girl to wake him up in the middle of the night. The son of a bitch has it all.

Heart.

The shit Jack’s always going on a tangent about, it really exists and both Stryker and Cobra have found theirs, leaving me here holding the fucking candle or in this case the brick of heroin which is currently burning a hole in my leathers.

Slinging the duffel bag over my shoulder, I cross the dimly lit lot and head for my room. Anxious to get my ass in the shower, I fit my key into the lock and kick open the door. I’m about to step inside when a stream of light flashes behind me. An engine purrs to life as I turn and glance over my shoulder. The headlights temporarily blind me, causing me to squint as the car moves away and speeds across the parking lot.

“Fucking hell,” I hiss, watching the tires skid across the asphalt and vanish from the lot.

Shrugging it off as another asshole looking to get his dick sucked in the parking lot, I turn back and cross the threshold to my humble abode.

What a fucking joke.

“Home sweet home,” I grunt as I step inside. Dropping my bag to the floor, my hand travels the wall in search of the light switch.

“Well, it’s about ducking time,” a voice bellows as I flick the light on. Instinct causes me to reach for my gun as I spin around and pull it on Riggs. Before I left for Albany he was promoted. Not only was he our tech guy, but now the sergeant at arms as well.

“Jesus, fuck,” I grind out, shoving the gun into the waistband of my jeans. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Waiting for you.”

Throwing my keys onto the dresser, I roll my eyes and pull out the top drawer.

“Why? Did your Kitten kick you out?” I snicker, picturing Riggs’ woman throwing his shit out the window. Lauren’s a nice enough girl, but she’s got her mother’s blood and those Italians are fucking ruthless. I’ve heard the stories and Riggs’ Kitten is known to take out her aggressions with a baseball bat.

Hot as fuck if you ask me.

“Yeah, right. Never happen,” he scoffs, pointing his finger at me. “You, my friend, fucked up.”

“The fuck I did,” I retort, eyeing him with a steady look. “I did my job.”

“And made mine harder in the process,” he says. “Jack didn’t like you going in there without a wire, and you insisted on not taking your fucking phone.”

“He agreed to my terms,” I remind him as I pull my phone from the drawer. I left it behind and bought a prepaid at a gas station. I was crazy for volunteering to go to Albany, but I wasn’t fucking stupid. If those motherfuckers got wind I was playing them I wouldn’t have been able to get the intel my club needed. Powering the phone on, I ignore the message alerts and turn to Riggs.

“Still doesn’t explain why the fuck you’re here.”

“I put a tracking device on your fucking bike, asshole. Next time you think you make the rules around here you better think twice,” he points out smugly as he reaches for his own phone.

“Who are you calling?”

Ignoring me he grins mischievously and lifts the phone to his ear.

“Yeah, it’s me. He just got back,” he says, pausing to listen before his eyes narrow at me. “You get what we need?”

“Does a bear shit in the woods?” I roll my eyes.

“Did you hear that? I vote we change his road name to Bear,” he says. “Yeah, okay. We’ll meet you at the garage.”

My eyes widen as he stands. So, apparently sleep wasn’t part of the plan. Fine. But I needed a shower and let’s not forget the fucking drugs. I needed to get rid of them before I went anywhere.

“Shit, man, I’ve been on the road all fucking night.”

Without another word, Riggs ends the call and shoves his phone into his pocket before crossing his arms against his chest. Quietly, he assesses me before speaking.

“What’s your point?”

“At least give me time to shower,” I tell him.

“Make it quick, Bear. Clock’s ticking.”

Knowing he’s right, I don’t argue as I head into the bathroom and turn the shower on, letting the water turn hot.

Lifting my eyes to the dirty mirror, I stare at my reflection and the exhaustion that taints my face. Moving my hands over the worn leather of my cut, I pause over the bulge before I reach into my pocket and pull out the brick of heroin. My fist tightens around it as my jaw clenches and I’m haunted by the memory of Chelsea. I try to remember a time when she was unscathed by King’s drugs.

When she was unscarred.

From the start, I knew she loved her drugs, but it didn’t bother me. I wasn’t looking for anything more than a way to stick it to King. Chelsea was a warm body with a willing pussy. She was revenge of the sweetest kind.

Until she wasn’t.

Falling in love with her was a mistake.

Trying to fix her was a disaster.

If I could go back in time, I’d do everything different. I’d force myself not to care. I’d walk away and let her have the fucking needle and I sure as hell wouldn’t beg her to choose me.

Her face fades away as I stare down at the drugs in my hand and it is replaced by another haunting image.

Blue eyes.

Eyes that belong to another woman who is as fucked as the day is long.

Another addict.

One I didn’t try to save, but instead fed poison to.

Turning my gaze toward the toilet, I lift the lid. Hovering over it, I fight back the regret eating away at me and tell myself she’s a lost cause. One way or another that bitch would’ve scored what she craved. I spared her the trouble of lying on her back and spreading her legs for anyone willing to crawl between them.

Angrily, I dump the drugs into the toilet until there is nothing left and then I flush, watching it disappear down the drain. I ball up the plastic wrapping and chuck it into the wastebasket before stripping my clothes. Steam begins to fill the room, fogging up the mirror, yet the words tattooed to my abdomen are still visible.

Unscarred.

Tearing my eyes away, I push back the memory of the lost woman and jump in the shower. I take the quickest shower known to man and dress even quicker, shrugging on the leather cut that still carries her faint scent. Some things are easy to forget, but sins usually aren’t. They stick with you, reminding you of all the low points of your life and how dark your soul truly is.

The sun has already risen by the time Riggs and I straddle our bikes and head to the garage. Craving a cup of coffee, I pull into the crowded lot of Pipe’s garage and head straight for the coffee pot inside the office and fix myself a cup of sludge. With a mouthful of grinds, I make my way into the garage and take in all the faces, wondering when they all became such early fucking risers.

I take a seat on one of the oil drums and another sip of the world’s worst coffee.

“Who made this shit?”

“That right there is a man’s cup of coffee, none of that mocha latte shit you people fucking drink now. It’ll put hair on your pretty little chest you fuckers wax these days,” Wolf says, lifting his own cup of mud to his lips.

“I don’t wax my chest,” I argue.

“Don’t be lying to me, boy, your chest is smoother than a baby’s ass.”

“I shave it,” I retort, because shaving sounds manlier.

Like this cup of sewage I’m drinking screams manly so does a razor and a bottle of Gillette. Wolf is about to reply when the garage doors slide open and Cobra and his bounty hunter buddy, Rick, stroll on in. They pull two crates toward the table and take a seat. Aside from Rocco Spinelli’s smart-ass comments, the room grows quiet as Jack leans back in his seat and stares down the table at the gangster.

Why the fuck is he even here?

Oh, right.

We’re a team now.

Bullshit.

Fucking bullshit.

Fuck my life.

“Your uncle was a patient man, how he ever chose you to run his shit I’ll never know,” Jack comments.

“Yeah, well when you know the answer be sure to clue me in too,” Rocco grunts, raising an eyebrow at Jack. “But until then maybe you can slam your little meat cleaver on the table and get this show on the road?”

“Mallet, it’s a meat mallet,” I correct with a sneer. The motherfucker knows how to push all the wrong buttons. A lot of heart went into that meat mallet. It’s not every day three fucking bikers take a trip to the black hole known as Bed Bath and Beyond.

“For fuck’s sake,” Jack growls, slamming the mallet against the wood. “All right, before these two bitches claw each other’s eyes out over my fucking gavel, let’s get down to business.”

“That is not a gavel,” Rocco points out.

“He will shoot you, man, and there’s a whole lot more leather than there is silk sitting around this table,” Blackie warns.

If he doesn’t I will.

“Look, we don’t have time to sit here and argue over shit. Call it what you want, it’s fucking ridiculous. Period. The fucking end. Now do you fucks want to listen to me? We need to get our asses moving,” Rocco grunts.

Turning his beady eyes toward me, Wolf juts his chin.

“Go on, boy,” Wolf urges. “What’d you find out?”

What didn’t I find is more like it, but I don’t say that, knowing no one is in the mood for my sarcasm.

“First off, that motherfucker Rush is as crazy as the day is long,” I offer, pointing my thumb toward Jack. “No offense, Prez, but this guy runs circles around you. Even on your worst trip to crazyville you couldn’t be more fucked than he is,” I reveal, running my fingers through my hair as I mentally go down the list of disasters I bared witness to over the last week.

“Rush is digging a hole for that chapter. It won’t be long before the Satan’s Knights of Albany is buried. The only reason they’re hanging on is because of the vice president.”

That’s a fucking fact. Bas may have been a thorn in my side, but he’s the only hope that club has. I can recognize his devotion and I can even respect it. Don’t get me wrong, he’s an asshole but a respectable asshole.

“He’s a cautious guy and you can tell he’s trying to salvage the mess Rush is making. However, I’m not too sure he knows how deeply fucked they all are. He’s the only one who was skeptical of my intentions. Felt his eyes on me the whole fucking time I was there,” I add.

“What’s his name?” Riggs asks as he types some shit into his phone.

“Bas,” I retort, playing along.

Right, like he doesn’t know his name. He probably has every Knights social security number memorized.

“Great, now send him a Christmas card and get on with the story,” Rocco orders.

Turning my gaze to him, I clench my jaw and glare at him.

“I’m going to lay this motherfucker out,” I grunt, turning to Jack. “With or without your fucking permission.”

“After we’re done with him, you can hang him from the flagpole out front for all I care, but right now I need you to continue.”

Now that’s an idea.

“Anyway, there were a couple of times I walked in on Rush talking in hushed tones, but it wasn’t to Bas or the treasury. Any conversation I caught him having was with his prospects or the fucking girl he’s obsessed with.”

Those fucking blue eyes flash in front of me again, toying with my conscience.

Riggs quickly lifts his head from the screen he’s been staring at and narrows his eyes at me.

“Rush has an old lady,” he points out.

See, the motherfucker knows everything.

“Sorry, buddy, I hate to burst your bubble, but I’ve been to a lot of chapters and they don’t all operate like Brooklyn. I’ve never had to work for pussy as hard as I do here. They keep that shit flowing in other joints. Albany has plenty to go around,” I reply, realizing it’s been a hot minute since I’ve been laid.

“I take it you sampled some of that,” Wolf taunts.

I force a smile as the lie flies off my tongue.

“Damn straight I did. Perks of the job, man.”

“You know when I picked up Stryker, he told me about Albany when I asked him about why he went nomad. He had some issues with his old man, but he couldn’t stand being around Rush anymore. Hated what he was doing to one of the girls there. I bet you it’s the same chick,” Wolf says.

“Maybe. Did he describe her to you?”

Did he tell you how her fucking eyes stick to your soul?

“Not that I recall,” Wolf says.

“Or that you’d remember,” Cobra points out.

Wolf might not remember but Stryker wouldn’t forget those eyes and they’d likely be the first thing he’d describe. Shaking away the thoughts of Ally, I continue.

“I don’t know what the deal is with the girl, but if this mission winds up putting us at war with Albany, she’s your golden ticket. Aside from drugs, she’s Rush’s weakness. The problem with that is she’s fucked too, she thinks that guy is a god or some shit, probably because he feeds her habit.”

“The shipment,” Rocco interrupts. “Did you get any intel on the shipment?”

“Or Yankovich,” Rick adds.

“I’m getting there,” I grind out.

“Well get there quicker,” Rocco orders.

“Come on, Deuce,” Cobra urges.

My eyes flicker over him and I see how desperate he is for the information. I can’t say I blame him. If some prick took my sister and forced me to leave the only person I loved to become Satan’s soldier, I’d be hunting for information too. I’d be looking to bury the cocksucker who threw my life upside down, especially now when everything’s right in his life.  He’s finally reunited with his girl, Celeste and their daughter Skylar. That sweet little girl is too innocent, too special to lose her daddy to the devil.

“There were a bunch of parties going on,” I begin, watching as he hangs on my every word. “One night Bas and the treasury went on a run and while everyone else was snorting shit and fucking their brains out, I snuck into Rush’s office.” I pause, remembering Ally. For reasons unbeknownst to me, I decide to leave her out of my story and continue.

“I found a bunch of documents in a lockbox under his desk. The lease with Triton was one of them. Like Captain Guinea over here said…” I point to Rocco for emphasis. “Yankovich has a boat leaving the harbor tomorrow. There are three contacts listed on that lease, Boris Majestki, Dmitri Puttinksi, and Issak Bgvort. There were three of them, weren’t there? Those are your guys,” I tell Rocco.

“Are we sure?” Blackie asks.

“The lease says they’re transporting household goods. I don’t know about you but I don’t think these motherfuckers are looking to move toasters through the Hudson,” I sneer, tearing my gaze from Blackie to Rick. “You said he’s going to lead us to the men who raped Gina. Wouldn’t this fit that?”

“If we’re going by past experience, it only works if there is another shipment scheduled. Like I said before, he wants us to do his dirty work. He made it easy for Rocco to find out the intel on the shipment going down tomorrow. He wants us there, and he wants us to take down those three names, but there has to be something we’re missing,” Rick informs us.

“There is another shipment scheduled, but it isn’t the same day. There was another lease in the lockbox. He’s got a container leaving in six days from Red Hook,” I supply, watching him contemplate my words.

“Rick?” Cobra questions anxiously.

The two of them are grasping at straws, taking all their past experiences with Yankovich and merging it to what we know now—which isn’t much. One thing is for certain though, Yankovich has tipped the scales, he’s changed the game and is keeping us all guessing. We’re running around in circles like a bunch of animals.

“Look, maybe the way we can’t be in two places at once, neither can he,” I suggest.

“I don’t know, man,” Rick says after a long pause. “I don’t know anything anymore. Every time I think I’ve got this motherfucker figured out he switches the game.”

“Look, none of Rush’s guys seem to know about the transfer you were talking about. If he’s taking their money they don’t know yet. Nor do they know about the shipment going down tomorrow which leads me to believe they don’t know jack shit about Yankovich or his men. He’s using Rush for the leasing agreement. Yankovich knows Rocco was looking to intercept the shipment, they had no idea I was there. Now those three guys are the men who played Stryker’s girl dirty. I’d bet my fucking life on it.”

Rocco slams the heel of his hand against the table and leans forward.

“Enough,” he shouts. “I don’t give a fuck about where Vlad is or what the fuck he is planning on transporting. If he’s giving me the guys that attacked my sister, which according to this guy…” he points to Rick, “…he is, then that’s enough for me right now. Now time’s running out. If you assholes want to sit here and play Sherlock by all means go the fuck ahead. But me and my men are hitting that dock tomorrow with or without the Satan’s Knights.”

Look who grew a pair.

Bravo, gangster, bravo.

Straightening his tie, he stares down the table at Jack.

“Now what’s it going to be Jack? I have no problem finishing these filthy cocksuckers off myself, but it seems like you're stuck between a rock and a hard place.”

“Watch yourself, Spinelli,” Jack hisses. “I’m not stuck anywhere. I gave my word to my brother, promised I’d deliver the men who harmed his girl, and that’s what I’ll do,” he vows, turning his gaze to all of us.

“Gas up, boys, we’re going to Albany. We’re going to get Stryker and do what our club does best. Then we’ll come back to this table and decide where we go from here. We got a week until his next shipment, seven days to find out if this fuck is playing us. Are you with me?” he asks everyone while he keeps his eyes firmly glued to Cobra.

Unspoken words pass between their steel gazes as the rest of us mentally prepare to take down the bastards who brutally attacked Stryker’s woman. There is no question, no fucking hesitation, there is only anger and the undeniable force to deliver justice for Gina.

“I’m with you,” Cobra finally says and we all follow suit. Rocco stands and offers Jack his hand and the two leaders shake, sealing their vow of retribution to one another.

Church is adjourned and I make my way back to the motel. I crash on my hard mattress and welcome sleep, knowing I’ll need to be sharp for the war we’re about to wage. When I open my eyes the next day, the wind changes and sweeps over me. It’s a sign, a warning; it’s time to slay some pigs.

Bring on the mayhem.

Let freedom ring.

The Satan’s Knights are coming, motherfuckers.

And justice will be served.

For Gina.

For every woman who ever found herself alone in an alley at the mercy of a pig.