He moved silently down the stairs, seething after watching Hustler shove his tongue down Lyric’s throat. After two days on the road chasing after Hustler, his body was exhausted, but his anger kept him going strong. Fucking Hustler, always taking what didn’t belong to him. First, he took the pawn shop that should have been Chief’s, then he stole Veronica, and now he’d taken Lyric. The multi-million-dollar whore.
It was late as he wandered through the clubhouse, but there were still some people milling about. They all greeted him as a friend, a trusted member of the club. Fucking fools. Oh, he’d played his role well, always staying in the background, never making a fuss. Hell, he’d managed to swallow his rage when they’d killed his uncle Red. And they’d done it while he’d been deployed, the cowardly bastards. If he’d been home, Beach never would have been able to pull his coup off and he’d be the one wearing the president patch on his vest.
But they’d stolen it from him, all of them, and they would pay.
Making his way to his rooms on the officer’s floors, he quickly scanned the inside for any listening devices and chuckled to himself. Those stupid fucks; he had this whole place bugged, and they had no idea. They thought they were so smart, that they were untouchable, but he was slowly chipping away at the center of the MC, planting seeds of doubt, destroying it from the inside out. It helped that Smoke trusted him with doing bug sweeps, and had put him in charge of handling the phones.
But he had to be careful. When he finally killed Beach and those loyal to him, Chief had to make it look just right so he could easily slip into the role of president. And he had to make sure he had the perfect target to take the blame.
Hustler.
Only the lucky bastard managed to keep slipping out of his traps by the skin of his teeth.
A text came through on his phone from Clint.
Got your message. We’ll hang tight and wait for your word.
Clint was an idiot, but a useful one.
After all, Clint had provided the key to finally taking down the Iron Horse MC and returning it to its former glory.
Tugging off his boots, he laid back in his bed and lit a cigarette, taking a long draw before slowly blowing the smoke out, his thoughts turning back to Lyric.
Who’d have thought she was the missing piece that he was looking for, that she would be the final nail in Hustler’s coffin. Rumors were already flying around that Hustler was laying claim to her, and Chief wondered if Hustler knew the truth; that the little church mouse was the sole heir to the Hoovatter fortune and would someday be worth more than $245 million.
Clint had laid it all out, telling Chief about how they’d broken into the old lady’s safe a few weeks ago and found her will, along with some interesting information. When Lyric turned twenty-one in a month she’d gain access to her trust fund, worth more than he could believe. Clint planned on marrying Lyric, then killing her off after a few years and keeping the money. Only she’d ran off before he had a chance.
Stupid fuck had just blabbed the information, trusting Chief with it. Just because the good Pastor Jeb Middleton had been a member of Iron Horse, back when Red ran things, didn’t mean Chief felt any loyalty to the man. Instead of sticking around and helping Red fight, Jeb “Rodeo” Middleton had run off and started a white supremacist cult. But good old Jeb was all too eager to get back at the men who’d chased him out of town, and when he heard that Mike Anderson’s daughter was marrying into the MC, he’d been happy to call Chief, suggesting revenge. At first, Jeb wanted to slaughter everyone at the wedding, to gun them down at the reception, but Chief quickly talked him out of it. He had no desire to rule an MC where eighty percent of the members were dead.
Not to mention the wrath it would bring down on them from every MC friendly with Iron Horse.
No, he’d lost most of his manpower and money during that clusterfuck last year with the shipment he’d stolen. Fuck, he’d set it up perfectly, had planned out every possible scenario and they all ended with Beach and all of the officers of Iron Horse dead. He would have found the shipment and been a hero, would have avenged his fallen president and saved everyone. Unfortunately, he’d underestimated Sarah and Swan Anderson, something he’d never do again.
He hated those bitches, hated them with every beat of his heart, and he couldn’t fucking wait to break them.
What better way to start than with their best friend from childhood? Sweet, innocent, adorable little Lyric. So shy, so trusting, so naïve. She should have been putty in his hand, but once again, fucking Hustler seemed to have some kind of sixth sense on how to fuck him over. It should have been Chief she went home with after the wedding reception, but that bastard snuck her out before he could stop them. He’d even tried to interrupt them in their RV, but those stupid fucking bodyguards had kept him away from the trailer.
Then he’d had another chance to win her over, to get her to marry him and give him the money he needed, but once again, Hustler had blocked him by getting to her first.
Even then he hadn’t given up, had kept his ears open and found out where Hustler was staying.
Clint should have broken into their room, the El Diablos should have taken Hustler, and Clint should have kidnapped Lyric. Chief would have then swooped in and saved the day, rescuing Lyric from Clint, killing the stupid fuck, and becoming the hero. He would then have seduced Lyric, made her love him, then married her and got the fortune for himself. Money was power, and with $245 million at his disposal, taking over Iron Horse would have been a breeze.
Stubbing out his cigarette, he growled in anger. But no, somehow that fucker Hustler had escaped.
Lacing his hands behind his head, Chief stared into the darkness and began to plan. This wasn’t the first, second, or even hundredth setback he’d faced, and it wouldn’t be the last. A lesser man might have given up by now, but he was obsessed with his revenge. It was all he ever thought about and the center of his world. There had to be a way to turn this situation to his favor, he just had to think.
Slowly, an idea began to form. He could still have it all, but his plan centered on Lyric. Somehow, he had to separate her from Hustler, make her alone and vulnerable to his charm. Unfortunately, she wasn’t like Veronica. That bitch had been all too easy to manipulate, thanks to her mental illness. All he had to do was start switching out her medication with placebos and she went off the fucking rails, keeping Hustler and Smoke busy dealing with her insanity. Only he’d underestimated her as well. She’d set up a camera in her bathroom and had recorded him switching out her pills. Thank fuck she’d decided to confront him on the spot, rather than waiting and taking the evidence to her brother-in-law Smoke. Stupid bitch; like she expected him to admit he was wrong and turn himself in instead of killing her.
His dick stirred as he remembered her death, remembered how she’d screamed his name before she died. His balls drew up tight as he imagined over and over again the moment the light went out in her eyes. The fact that she was Smoke’s sister-in-law—and about a dozen different club members’ ex-girlfriend—made the look of betrayal on her face as she ate a bullet all the sweeter. Yeah, none of them suspected him of anything. He was loyal, through and through, after “saving” Smoke’s and Swan’s lives. In reality, he’d been a heartbeat away from saying “fuck it” and killing Smoke. But all too soon, they’d had witnesses around them and he had to step back and let the bastard live.
Still, fate had dealt him a good hand that day. Swan believed that he’d appeared like a hero and saved them, not showed up too late to kill them like he’d intended. Fucking Hustler had been giving him a hard time, and because of that asshole, he’d had to stay in Austin longer than he wanted. He’d almost had his revenge, and it had been so, so sweet.
Tugging harder on his cock, he liked to relive the hours he’d spent torturing Smoke, and the fact that he got away with it.
Clenching his teeth, he jerked himself harder, to the point of pain. Swan, tied up and at his mercy. Swan, her face black and blue, her split lips sucking his cock. Smoke, screaming in agony.
Sweat poured off his face as his climax ripped through him, leaving him momentarily deaf and dumb.
When he surfaced again, he wiped his hand against the quilt. If Swan was here right now, his cum would be down her throat, and drool would be coating her chin. His dick stirred again and he sighed, then stretched, his mind switching to thoughts of Lyric. It pissed him off that Hustler had no doubt already fucked her. Hell, she spent the night with that piece of shit at the wedding. Things would have been a lot easier if she’d ended up with him that night. He coulda’ trained her how he wanted, broke her in to his way of fuckin’.
And he still could
Picking up his phone, he called Swan.
It rang a few times before she answered with a groggy, “Hello?”
“Hey, Swan, it’s Vance,” he said in the gentle tone that worked best for manipulation. “You wanted me to call you when Lyric arrived.”
“I want to talk to her, put her on the phone.”
“Can’t. She’s in Hustler’s room. Only saw her for a few minutes before he hauled her off.”
Her voice went cold and dead, making him smile. “She’s what?”
“Seems Sarah told Hustler to go pick Lyric up. She didn’t tell you that?”
“No.”
“Yeah, she didn’t tell me either. I showed up and your dad was none too pleased to see me. You trusted me with her safety and I failed you. I’m sorry.”
As I knew she would, right away she began to apologize. “No, I’m sorry. I should have known Sarah would send Hustler. She has this crazy idea they’re soulmates. How was Lyric? She seem okay?”
Ahh, the opening he’d been waiting for. “She seemed…tense.”
“Tense how?”
“She seemed…well, I don’t want to talk shit, but she seemed kinda uncomfortable with Hustler.”
“Uncomfortable how?”
“Easy, she just seemed nervous, I guess. I would be, too, if I was her.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Hustler’s marked his territory with her. Tellin’ everyone she’s his woman.”
“Are you kidding me?” Swan yelled. “I’ll kill his whoremongering ass.”
I kept my laughter to myself. “Do you want me to step in? To protect Lyric?”
She was silent for a long time, and I had to keep myself from speaking and let her think it over. I couldn’t push outright, she’d balk on principle, and figuring out her mind was an impossible task. The chick was slightly retarded; brilliant, but dumb. Easy to guide, easy to fool.
“No. I’m sure she’s okay.”
“I don’t want to stir up any trouble, but…well Lyric had some bruises on her that concerned me.”
“What?”
“Yeah. I don’t know what happened, I didn’t get a chance to talk to her with Hustler hovering over her, but there were fresh bruises on her upper arms. Kinda looked like someone grabbed her hard. I saw them when she moved her arms around. They appeared painful.”
“Someone’s dead,” Swan said in a soft voice. “Oh, someone is going to motherfucking die for hurting my girl.”
Suddenly, Smoke’s voice came down the phone, making Vance grimace. Fucker, he’d been Smoke’s staff sergeant in the Marines, yet Smoke somehow managed to outrank Vance in the civilian world. In his own fucking club. Vance’s family had run this bitch for two generations, this was his club, yet Smoke was the Master-at-Arms for the national chapter while Vance was just an Enforcer.
“What the fuck is going on?” Smoke growled like a pissed-off junkyard dog, a slight hint of his Hispanic accent leaking through. “Why is my wife talking about killing people?”
He had a right to be upset. When Swan talked about killing people, she meant it. While Vance knew he wasn’t quite right in the head, Swan took her crazy to a whole ’nother level. She’d killed close to a dozen men that he knew of, and only had a slight limp as a result. When she threatened to kill Hustler, it wasn’t a joke.
“Lyric arrived with some bruises on her upper arms, like someone grabbed and shook her. I was concerned about how she got them.”
“She got them,” Smoke said with a tired sigh, “From whatever fuckers she ran from. Mimi said Lyric arrived with finger marks on her arms.”
Swan said something in the background, then Smoke said, “You got anything else you wanna say to my wife that’s gonna piss her off on the last day of our honeymoon, you cock-blocking asshole?”
In his mind, Vance relived the time when he’d made Smoke beg for Swan’s life, humbling and debasing himself for her. “Just tryin’ to keep an eye on Lyric for Swan.”
“We’ll be home tomorrow.”
With that, he hung up and Vance tossed his phone onto the other side of the bed, then rolled over on his side. Soon enough he’d have to get up and endure another day, but for the first time in a long time, he had hope. All the pieces were in place, the stage was set and a sense of anticipation hung in the air. It was time to knock down the first domino—Hustler—and start a chain of events that would lead to him reclaiming his rightful place as president of the Iron Horse MC.
Dear Beloved Reader,
Dun dun dun dun! Cliffhanger(ish)! Fear not, gentle maidens, Hustler and Lyric will get their HEA, they’re just going to have to go through some shit first. Such is life. Sometimes the most beautiful love stories aren’t ones where everything and everyone is flawless, but rather the tales of two not-so-perfect individuals are fighting for their chance at true love. I’m anticipating part two of their story to be out before Christmas, so and keep your little peepers peeled on my FB page for release announcements.
Ann