Blade
Riding off down the freeway with an uncomfortable hard- on pisses me the fuck off. The cool wind is doing nothing to calm me down. I can’t stop the images of her blue eyes and plump lips with red lipstick that should be wrapped around my dick from popping into my head. I’ve had enough of the club pussy to last me a lifetime. That fiery little bitch has me hard from her smart, fucking perfect mouth.
My tongue was dying to trace where my fingers touched her skin. I wanted to bend her over her desk and spank that very fine ass very hard. Groaning, I close my eyes for a second. The release is calling to me, but only she can satisfy me. FUCK.
The club girls will bend over at a nod of my head. It’s pathetic, old and unfulfilling. I’m getting older, and tired of that shit. Let alone, now when they see my Prez patch, their legs drop open, hoping I’ll fuck ‘em and love it enough to keep them around. I want to own a woman who’s mine and submits only to me. Strong enough to be her own woman. Strong enough for this hard life. Not these weak cunts just to fuck.
I need a wild cat to tame just enough to be mine, only mine. An Ol’ Lady on the back of my bike. I’ve never, nor will I ever, let one of those throw away cunts on my ride. My bike is my number two behind my club, no one touches it.
My old man loves my mom with everything he has. He’s always said that good Ol’ Ladies are few and far between. My mom is loyal to my Dad and to our club. I don’t know what is changing that’s making me think this way.
Maybe it has to do with me turning 37, and I’m itching to slow down a bit? Wanting to have someone close to me, someone to watch my back, and not worry about all these club sluts. Yeah, most of them are fun, but my mind wonders off to that stubborn and ballsy as shit princess at that bar. She definitely doesn’t need a man to tell her what to do or put cash in her bank.
No, that princess needs a tough man, with a strong hand, one who can control her in the bedroom. I can still smell her perfume, and I wonder what it was. Her hair was soft on my face when she put me face down on her desk.
Yeah, she caught me off guard. I could have easily gotten myself back up, but I liked the little cat and mouse game we were playing. I groan at the thought of her perky ass and the handful of cleavage she gave me a peek of.
Axl, Tank and I pull into the garage and both of those fuckers have shit eating grins when they jump off. Tank starts in. “So, the Prez has a claim on the brunette back there? Or can I roll up tomorrow and see if she’s a little less hostile with me? Or was that some foreplay you into, Prez?” His grin is taking up most of his face.
Axl says back to Tank, “Nah, bro, you seen that right. I think if I call her ‘Babe’ a few more times, Prez may lay me out cold. Doesn’t make a difference to me, that bar was full of fine ass. Tank, did you see that bartender next to Alessia? Bitch had some legs on her with those short shorts and long, blonde hair.”
They keep walking and bullshitting as we walk up to the door of the Battle Born MC clubhouse, the Reno Chapter.
I’m damn proud of it, and so is my old man, Stryker, the Prez of the Mother Chapter of the Battle Born MC, out of Las Vegas. Stryker turned this clubhouse over to me this year, after he had enough of the shit that went down with the Nevada Knights MC.
Stryker threw out the old Prez and we patched over a few of the men. The rest we sent to the ground after we found out they were sex trafficking and going through the Las Vegas’ mother chapter territory. We could have let them keep their club name, but that ain’t Stryker’s style. He takes what’s his and doesn’t give a shit. They took something from him, so he took it all from them. We turned this club into a Battle Born chapter and grew our business. Reno is also centrally located, so it was a no brainer to take it all.
Nickelback blasts through the speakers while laughs filter around beer bottles. Those club sluts I was just thinking about come running up. Shaking my head at them, I tell them to get the fuck away. Those tame little Barbies scamper off like the good little girls they are. Not in the mood for those dumb cunts.
I bet that fierce, little Alessia wouldn’t even acknowledge me, and that thought makes me smile to myself. So much fire out of her short, but curvy, little frame. Game on, princess, game most definitely on.
I take a seat next to Axl, my VP, and Tank, my Road Captain. We don’t go anywhere unless the three of us can go together, especially on the important runs. We grew up together and, without a doubt, they are my brothers.
One of our prospects, Solo, slides a few cold beers our way, and we chug the first half down. Axl starts first. “All joke aside, do you think Alessia will call? We need that location. The shop will work well in that area, and we need to get up and running and start making some flow, man.”
He’s nervous. This is important to all of us. After taking over the Reno area, we’ve had to make it on our own up here. We’ve had to bring in our own money. Sitting back against the bar, I take another drink before I answer. “I think she’ll call. That place has stayed closed with no tenants for the last year, it’s just wasting space. Good thing too is we can use her customers as our client base and vice versa.”
Axl relaxes a bit hearing my thoughts. “I’m just glad we don’t have to take those runs down south anymore. I respect the hell outta your old man, but that shit was getting down right murderous in that territory.”
He lets out the breath he was holding. The war we had a year ago crippled all of our chapters financially. None of us knew if we wouldn’t be the next one dead and cold in the dirt. Not a year any of us want to relive.
Tank is distracted, not listening to our conversation. He’s watching one of the girls jump up on the pool table, stripping to give the guys a seductive show of the pussy they’ve all seen and fucked plenty of times.
Turning back around to face the bar, I keep talking to Axl, “She’ll call, and if not, I can always check in and see about a meeting.” I kind of hope she doesn’t call so I have an excuse to go and drop in on her.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, I pull it out to read the message.
Stryker: Intel on Buck, call me.
Stepping out of the room to call Stryker back, the anger and regret are thrumming through my veins. My old man picks up on the first ring, reporting to me what he knows of what happened with Buck, one of the longest standing members of our club. Time to gather the brothers for Church.
“Tank, get your head together, man,” I slap him on the shoulder. Axl and Tank zone in at my words. “We need a meeting. Now. Stryker just got word on Buck. The shit ain’t good, man.”
Slamming my beer down, I turn around to stand and face the room. My voice booms with frustration, “Church! Now! Sluts, get the fuck out!”
The brothers drop shrieking bitches from their laps and tell them to hit it as they walk past them with no care or concern for them. Prospects do their jobs by escorting the cunts out to their cars, making sure they ‘re all gone, while the patched brothers and myself head into Church.
I feel the venom pumping fiercely in my veins. The intensity coming off me feels deafening. You can cut the tension with a fucking knife. They all want to know why they were brought in here. The MC brothers are directing looks toward both me and my VP as they try to find answers.
Anger is clear in my voice when I speak. “Battle Born MC patched you all over after we settled what your old Prez was dealing and trafficking without my old man’s clearance. So, if any of you have a problem, and you wanna be a pussy? Back out now, throw your cut on the table.” I pause and look at each one of them again, steel and determination in my eyes.
They probably suspect that we are here looking for a rat. Patching members over takes time to develop trust. We just don’t have time for that now. Makes sense that they all want to protect each other. They’ve been through club wars and deaths just like all the other Battle Born Chapters in Nevada. Hell, every MC has this past year. No one has been immune to the treachery and heartache of losing brothers, cash and connections.
I have one question for each of the Reno members. Will they ride and die for their brothers? One of them could be a dirty rat fucker, and when I catch him, if he doesn’t already know, he will find out why they call me Blade.
My fingers twitch thinking about the retribution in blood that will spill when I sink my blade into their skin. The sharp edge of the blade smoothly cutting into skin gets me high.
I continue talking to my men. “I’ve been contacted by the Mother Chapter in Vegas, and Stryker has called in a nomad named Cuervo. He’s the best at tracking with situations that went off the grid. Why would Stryker call in Cuervo you ask? Because a member went missing for a week, and the Vegas Prez found him dead a few miles past the Indian Springs truck stop. Out in the desert, Buck and his bike were halfway buried, or we may have never found him. They took his cut, cell and wallet. The Game Warden was out there opening the fences for the local hunters. He called Stryker because we never leave a body out in the open or dump without him knowing.
We need all the Chapters to help. I’m not putting this to a vote if we should wait and help the Las Vegas chapter find who killed him or not. Save whatever shit you were going to throw my way. That was our brother, you get me? It looks like whoever killed Buck, they did it in a hurry not to finish disposing of him. He had to have come across something important. Buck made his run south and was on his way back. So, from what we know, this wasn’t random. He was found north of Las Vegas. We need to find out why.”
I look over at my Sergeant-At-Arms. “Spider, dig up his cell and bank records for a timeline. Look at his contacts and start making calls.”
I’m not done barking directions. “Tank, call the Elko chapter and give them a heads up and to be on the lookout. There will be a two-riders minimum till this is resolved.”
They will regret the day they messed with Battle Born MC. I’ll carve the club emblem into their flesh and seal it with fire. Their loved ones will know who returned them back home dead.
Too many good men have died because of shady ass, greedy fucks. I sit at the end of the table and slowly look around the room, careful to make eye contact with each man. Seeing straight through to their souls, I own each one of them.
One man steps up from the back, Bear, walks forward and starts pulling his cut off. He reaches the table and before the cut can drop, Axl throws a knife into his neck. Bear chokes on his blood, struggling to breathe and stand. Hands clawing desperately at his throat, he falls forward onto the table, twitching.
Standing up, Axl grabs his knife, wipes the blood off with disgust onto the dead man’s shirt and tucks it back into his boot. Blood flows in a beautiful, lazy, crimson river over the table, and pours over, dripping to the concrete glossed floors. “Anyone else? No? Let’s get back to fuckin’ business then.” Axl is smirking like the crazy fucker he is. We all are.
“Tank, brief all these assholes on what happened last week on your run.” Relaxing back in my chair, I light up a smoke, grinning at my men, challenging them to question his authority. Tank stands so he can be at level with the crew. Hah, I laugh at his ass in my head. Stupid fucker.
Tank starts, “Me, Axl, Hitch and Spider were coming back from our drop. We saw a semi moving into our territory. The dude wore a cut I couldn’t make out from my bike. We followed him north into Elko where he shouldn’t be haulin’.
I put in a call to our contact in Texas. He confirmed a new crew is moving bitches and shit. We knew it was them by the logo on the trucks they use for transport. Contact said this crew started putting a black angel on their trucks. Dumb fucks just as good as advertised it by painting that logo on the side of their haulers.
The cartel knows their border for drop off is Del Rio. Someone has a side business brewing and has paid a lot of money for these drop offs. Question is, who are we looking for, and are they new? They had to be set up through references. That’s who we need to find.”
Tank finishes and sits down next to me, throwing a smug look my way. Idiot thinks he’s the only one with contacts. His information is just the tip of the iceberg. Dipshit.
The first thing I need to do is get the names of the members not on the drop and where they were while the brothers were gone on the run. See if I can tie any of them to any MC or gang ties, because I don’t think it’s the Cartel. We’ve kept the peace with them for years.
The Cartel’s been around long enough to know that if you grease a few palms, work gets done and your men stay alive. Makes me think someone is getting greedy and saving enough to take over Battles Born’s territory. That will show us how big this threat is when we can pin down exactly what’s being moved and who is being the mule in the operation in those painted-up, whore cargo haulers.
I take a deep breath and close Church with one final warning to everyone in the room. “I’m suspecting these two incidents may be related. I need ears to the ground! I don’t give a fuck how you do it. You call up every distributor you know. GET THE FUCKING INFORMATION!” My hand slaps down on the table, letting everyone in the room know this situation just went to top priority.
“Get on top of this shit before we lose more members. I’m sick of putting bodies that wear our cuts in the ground. These motherfuckers will pay in blood for taking what’s ours. Church this Sunday at six. Get the fuck out of here and get to fucking work.”
Hitting my gavel on the table, I storm out followed by Axl and Tank. Axl is already up in Hitch’s ear, whispering like the bitch he is about something. Probably about me and that fine piece of ass, Alessia
Spider shouts toward the bar. “Solo, grab the rock crawler truck and pull it around back. Bring a tarp and two more prospects with you. No more solo trips for a while. Dump this piece of shit in the pit at the mine.” Solo walks in with Hog and Pawn, wraps Bear up and drags him out.
I grab another beer from behind the bar on my way to my room, thinking over everything I saw in Church. Something really sticks out to me. Earlier when I said, “Vegas Chapter” and “Stryker” some of the brothers paled and swallowed hard. I make note of which ones those are, so I can have Spider look into their backgrounds and financials later.
Spider gets his name because once he gets your life caught in his web, he’ll devour you whole, just like the Black Widow tattooed on his neck. Ride or die, fuckers. Ride or die.
Except, if you die for being a rat, then me and my boys, Axl, Tank, Hitch, Spider and Cowboy, will be the last faces you see. Lying back in my bed, I give up the fight on my thoughts of these problems, choosing to try and solve a more beautiful one.