Cane

 

 

“So, what do you think of the new clubhouse?” Cane asked Jet.

It used to be an old liquor store, in South Minneapolis, but was now theirs. It had been completely gutted and remodeled to accommodate the Blood Angels.

Compliments of Bastard.

“It’s great,” said Jet, looking around.

The place had everything they wanted, including a stripper-pole. There was a fully stocked bar. A meeting room. Several small bedrooms. Even a fully stocked kitchen. “The boys are going to love it.”

Cane smiled. “Yep.”

“So, all of this because of your connection to Montez?”

“Yeah.”

Montez was married to Cane’s cousin. He was also an arms dealer. Apparently, the Gold Vipers needed weapons and had negotiated a deal with Montez. It included a truce between the Blood Angels and the Gold Vipers. And, because Cane’s club had been run out of town, he’d also negotiated for a new clubhouse.

“I bet Phoenix is pissed off as all hell,” said Jet, taking out a cigarette. “I would have loved to have seen his face when he learned of the news.”

“Me, too,” said Cane, smirking. “Even better, Bastard is footing the bill on a party here tonight. I wonder if we should send out an invitation to our friends in St. Paul. I bet Phoenix would love one.”

Jet laughed.

 

***

 

A few hours later, music blasted through the clubhouse, drugs were in abundance, strippers entertained his troops, and Cane was delightfully drunk and horny. One stripper in particular, had been giving him the eye all night. A curvy, platinum blonde, with round breasts, and a firm ass that could crack walnuts. Currently, she was dancing for Jet, but was also watching Cane in the process.

“Damn,” Cane said, when she ripped off her top and juggled her tits against Jet’s flushed face. “Those might just be real.”

Suddenly, the stripper grabbed Jet’s hand, making him stand up. She led him over to Cane and grabbed his hand as well.

“What’s up, sexy?” he asked, as she pulled him out of his chair.

The stripper batted her eyelashes. “I want to give you both a private dance.”

Cane and Jet looked at each other.

“You won’t regret it,” she said, touching Cane’s zipper.

“We don’t… usually do this shit together,” said Cane, getting a good whiff of her perfume. It was something fruity.

The stripper leaned over. “Why not?” she whispered in his ear. “I’ve got more than one hole.”

Cane’s jeans tightened.

“By the way, my name is Candy,” she said.

“I’m Cane. Looks like we were made for each other,” he replied, grabbing her ass.

The stripper slapped his hand playfully away. “You can’t touch me out here. But you can do anything you want to me in your bedroom.”

Cane looked at Jet. “You don’t mind sharing, do you?”

 “Like she said, she has more than one hole,” he said, grinning. “And, I’m in the mood for some Candy.”

“Me, too,” replied Cane, licking his chops.

 

***

 

 

Two minutes later, Candy had the two men alone in one of the bedrooms, and neither could keep their hands off of her.

“Wait,” she said, pushing them away. “I need music. It really turns me on.”

Cane walked over to a small radio that was sitting on the nightstand. He turned it on and changed the channel until he found an old rock song, Crimson and Clover by Joan Jett.

“I love that song,” she said, digging into her purse. She pulled out a set of handcuffs and smiled wickedly.

“Who are those for?” asked Cane, looking amused.

“Me. I love feeling vulnerable. Chain me to the headboard,” she said.

The two men looked at each other.

“Come on,” she said, crawling onto the mattress and turning over. She put her hands above her head. “Do it.” She looked at Jet. “I’ll even let you choke me, if you want.”

It was well known that Jet had a freaky side. One that included sex and violence.

Jet’s eyes gleamed. He leaned over her and handcuffed her to the metal headboard.

“Now, take off your clothes and fuck the shit out of me,” she said loudly.

The two men began undressing. Once they were naked, they got onto the bed and began groping and kissing her. Neither noticed the door open behind them.

A woman entered quietly and approached the three on the bed. Raising her gun, she nodded to Candy.

Candy closed her eyes.

The silencer blocked out the sound of the gunfire, but Candy flinched with each shot. She opened her eyes and shuddered, but didn’t say anything. The two men had been shot in the head and bleeding everywhere.

“Give me two minutes,” whispered the shooter, lowering the gun.

Candy nodded, grateful she’d been paid as much as she had. It was enough to pay off her school loans and purchase a new car she’d been eyeing.

The woman slipped out of the bedroom and the stripper waited, watching the alarm clock. At exactly two minutes, Candy opened her mouth and started screaming her head off. 

The first to arrive on the scene was Dice.

“What the fuck?!” he hollered, seeing his president and V.P. lying dead on top of Candy.

Boomer walked in and gasped. “Who did this?”

Candy, who was crying, described a man wearing a Devil’s Rangers cut.

“He shot them and took off,” she cried. “It was horrible!”