Mayhem dauntless mc book.., p.7
Mayhem (Dauntless MC Book 3), page 7
“It may be your only way to get out of this. No offense, but you boys don’t have enough members to go to war.”
“You’re right, Mohawk. While we’re on the subject, you need to stay here. Being out on those streets alone is dangerous for you right now. You did call us to let know what had happened and we appreciate your honesty.”
Mohawk breathed a sigh of relief. He didn’t want to leave the club right now. He felt like there was a target on his back. A quick death was one thing, but body parts being cut off and being tortured was quite another. The Colombians had a reputation and it was well-deserved. Anybody with any sense was scared of them. Mohawk wondered if the bikers would have done things differently had they known the cartel was involved. Even gangsters had enough sense to back off when they heard the words: Colombian cartel.
“So, do you know where they’re staying?”
Mohawk nodded, which put Tiny’s mind at ease. At least they had a starting point.
“Rock has a man named Chito running things stateside. Believe it or not, they have a house out in the country—makes it easy for them to run drugs in and out when they go rural. You’d think they were Green Acres if you didn’t know any better. They travel back and forth from Colombia quite a bit, but when they’re here in the states, that’s where they live. There’s a woman who lives there full-time with her kids so she must be a cartel wife or something. Like I said, from the outside, they look like the typical country family. Nobody suspects people living in a quiet area like that; they sure aren’t thinking cartel lives out there. The cops out there are understaffed and don’t have the means to take on the cartel. It takes money and manpower to go up against the cartel.”
“That’s what they’re shooting for; blending into the community. There are a lot of small farms in the area and it gives them the privacy they need to deal drugs. Maybe if we blow-up their stash house when they have a load of cocaine, they’ll be more preoccupied with not getting killed by their bosses than with us. It’ll also bring heat down on them with the DEA. They must have dual-citizenship. If we could fuck that up for them, it might help us.”
“Like I said, they’re like fucking cockroaches; they don’t die, they just multiply.”
“The first thing we’ll do is put somebody on the house. The last thing we need is a sucker punch bomb or kidnapping. They love to kidnap and hold for ransom. It’ll be easy to get Intel on them; plenty of hiding places in the woods surrounding their house.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Preacher agreed. “Let’s go for it.”
“I ain’t doing no fucking Intel,” Tiny growled.
“I don’t mind doing it,” Mohawk said. “I know who I’m looking for—I’ve seen the connections when they did deals with Coochy. Just send some men with me. I’m feeling vulnerable, lately.”
“We can send a few prospects; make ‘em earn those patches.”
“Yeah, and make sure there’s no sleeping on the job or somebody’s getting shot.”
Mohawk laughed, “I’m too wired to be sleeping on the job, boss.” It felt good to call Tiny ‘boss’ because it meant Mohawk wasn’t in this clusterfuck of crime alone. He’d never felt like part of a family with Coochy and his boys. The only person Coochy cared about was Coochy. Maybe Dauntless MC could give Mohawk something he’d never had: a family. It would be worth spilling blood to be part of a brotherhood.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chito paced the wood floors of the country house like a wild animal penned in a cage. He didn’t like the way he was feeling; having second doubts was never a good thing. It had never crossed his mind that junky could have been the thief even though he’d been holding the gun that killed Coochy. He took a moment to stop pacing and stood at the window looking out towards the woods. The trees were alive with vibrant colors of green leaves, and squirrels jumped from limb to limb playing. When he’d first seen the property, he couldn’t imagine living in the country. Over time, the place had grown on him. There was something about the privacy that radiated a peace he’d never felt anywhere else. The wildlife was as vast as the land stretched out before him; foxes, snakes, squirrels, racoons, and skunks were just some of the smaller game that inhabited the place he’d come to love. Being in the country wasn’t so bad after all; neighbors stayed to themselves and the gate at the front of his property ensured no unwanted visitors could bother him. Sometimes he would walk through the woods and listen to the sounds that blended into a perfect symphony of harmony. He’d always lived in the city; he’d formed the habit of looking over his shoulder long ago. Here, there were no gangbangers, no loud traffic, and no cops pulling you over for whatever reason. This was the kind of place that could make a man think about going straight; even a man like Chito. Even his woman and kids liked it here which was a miracle in itself; the bitch complained about everything. Here, she was actually nice because she liked the house and said she finally had a home. Who’d have thought domesticating her ass would have made her happy? The children had plenty of space to run off energy. There was a fort, goats, ATVs, and bikes. There was never a dull moment of boredom, and they didn’t have their faces stuck in iPods and smart phones. Chito had made the decision he was going to buy the place and maybe look at retirement if the cartel would let him out. He wanted to raise his kids in God’s country.
Chito had gone back to the stash house and the junkie had been gone as if he’d never been there; the gun was gone, too. It wasn’t like him to overlook things, but it had made sense that the bikers were responsible. Now, he was beginning to wonder if he’d been too quick to believe the junkie. There was no better liar than a junkie. He mentally kicked himself for not considering both options. In his line of work, nothing was as it seemed. He didn’t like being put in the middle of a situation he didn’t choose. He was tired—not physically—but the kind of tired that got in your bones and made you want to quit. He felt like an old man; like the years had been so unkind that he’d never recover. It was the money that lured you into the lifestyle, but few counted the cost of losing your soul. Chito wasn’t the man he was when he started. Now, when he looked in the mirror, he saw a monster who tried to condone the blood on his hands that couldn’t be washed clean. It was a permanent stain of sin that would go to his grave with him. The funny thing about sin was once it got its talons down into you, it changed you so much so that you didn’t recognize yourself, anymore. When he was young, all he wanted was the flash, the cars, jewelry, and money. It wasn’t just the material goods you got when you entered the cartel, you got respect and envy. Suddenly, people saw you; you were no longer invisible. It was a drug few were able to resist. When you grew up in the projects, it was the only way out, or so he’d believed.
He’d had somebody do a drive-by at the motorcycle club and everything looked normal; no brand-new bikes or cars. They would keep an eye on the bikers and if they saw money being thrown around, it would be evidence they’d come into a windfall of his money.
The last thing he needed was his sadistic boss breathing down his neck. He needed to get that money back or it would be his head on the chopping block. He’d been in interrogations and seen first-hand how brutal the cartel could be. It was like they enjoyed the horrific torture they doled out. Rumor had it, they always chose sadists to do the job because very few could withstand seeing a chainsaw cut through body parts like hot butter. Even the most brutal had been known to get sick or pass out. Sometimes, the women they used were more brutal than the men. They were vicious as they stood by and shouted at them to hit harder, cut deeper, and keep them alive so they would suffer. Grown men would beg to die just to be released from the pain they endured. They always gave up the names and locations they were being tortured for; because they were going to die, anyway. Death coming quicker was a form of mercy the cartel was unable to offer until they got what they wanted. Chito still suffered from night terrors because of the things he’d been forced to see. He’d passed the point of no return long ago.
He was already beginning to entertain thoughts of stealing someone else’s stash to compensate for the stolen money. If he ripped off one of his own men, they would never suspect him. It was a risky move, but one that might save his life. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d had to steal to stay alive. “Shut that fucking kid up,” he screamed towards the bedroom. Normally, the kids running underfoot didn’t bother him but when your life was on the line it had a way of getting on a man’s nerves.
“Cisco, get over here.”
Cisco sauntered across the room after he ensured the kid was no longer crying. “What’s up?”
“Man, I hate it, but I’m starting to have second thoughts about that junkie.”
“You think he stole the money and dope?”
“I think it’s very possible. I can’t see those bikers doing it because they’re tied in with the Ramirez brothers. That peace treaty shit they got goin’ on would stop them from stealing from Colombians. I mean think about it… what better way to get away with stealing than to face us and blame the bikers?”
“Maybe the bikers were there but for a different reason?”
“What?”
“Over that chick Smoky that got killed. Maybe Mohawk couldn’t go through with burying her body and called the bikers. You know how tightknit that group is. They’re never going to let somebody get away with killing one of their women. Even if she was nothing more than a party girl, it was a matter of respect. If the bikers let her death go with no retribution, it would send a message to the streets that Dauntless MC didn’t take care of their own and they were weak.”
“You may have a point. We need to find that fucking junkie. If he stole that stash, he’ll be holed up somewhere getting high. We need to check the local flophouses.”
“I’m thinking we need to steal somebody’s haul to make up for the money. I can’t trust anybody but you Cisco. Will you help me?”
“Who do you plan on taking down, Chito?”
“The Sinaloans. We usually know when they’re getting a shipment. They’d never expect us ripping them off and we can make it look like a local gang did it.”
“Chito, you know I’m not going to stand by and let you get killed. We’re cousins, man. Blood is thicker than water even when it comes to crossing the cartel.”
“I think we need to do it. The chances of us finding that money isn’t good.”
“Like I said: blood is thicker than water. I’m all in, cuz.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Jewel slipped off the shorts she was wearing as if doing a striptease. She eased her top over her head and licked her lips as Roderick watched her, mesmerized. It never got old with Jewel. She held his heart in her hand and his cock in her will. One look from her was all it took to send his system into overdrive. She eased the curtain back further and stepped into the shower. She made the simple act of reaching for the soap and slathering it through her fingers look like something from a porn movie. She slipped her hand down over his hard cock and moved it up and down as slow as she could just to torment him. She leaned in and whispered in his ear. “I need you to slip that beautiful cock up in me and fuck me like you hate me.”
He didn’t waste any time rinsing off and slamming her around where he could get behind her. He pulled her hips out, forcing her to palm the wall. When he slipped into her, she felt like a velvet vice grip.
“That’s it, baby, fuck me like you’re punishing me.” Nobody could dirty talk like Jewel and she loved to torment her man with her sheer nastiness.
He grabbed a fistful of hair and plunged into her as deep as he could; balls deep and on a mission to give his woman what she needed.
She slipped her hand between her legs and played with the hard nub of nerves that screamed out for release. He still felt as good as he had the first time they made love. She could feel her knees weaken as a climax coursed through her. She could feel his cock throb as he released within her. They had talked about having more children, but it hadn’t happened. She’d quit using any kind of birth control years ago in hopes they could have another child; only time would tell.
“You’re killing me woman,” he took a minute to get his composure and finished his shower.
“What are your plans for the day?” she asked out of curiosity.
“We were going to scout out the house where the Colombians are staying but Tiny decided to send someone else, and Nitro and I are going to look for the junkie that was at the flophouse. He wants to make sure the guy didn’t tell the Colombians the bikers are responsible for the hit.”
“Be careful. You’ll be going into some bad neighborhoods. You know how those flophouses are; they’re like something out of a bad dystopian movie.”
“It always gives me the creeps, too. It’s like they have zombies inhabiting their bodies. It makes me wonder how someone could let themselves go like that. Night of the living dead,” he moaned in a scary voice and put his arms out like a walking zombie.
She laughed, running around the room as he continued chasing her. She fell on the bed in a heap laughing at him and he tackled her tickling her.
“I love you, Roderick.”
“I love you, too, baby girl. Don’t worry, I’m packing heat and I know how to shoot a zombie. I’ll be home before you know it.”
Jewel pushed the worry out of her mind and focused on the good times. Any woman connected to a biker worried every time they walked out the door; it went with the job title. It was a life she’d chosen to be in; a matter of giving up everything to be with the man she loved. If she allowed herself to, she could worry as much as any other wife. The men lived a life of crime; drugs, theft, and murder were just a way of life—as natural as the air they breathed. Roderick was good at what he did and hadn’t been caught, yet. At least the worry of this being the last job wasn’t in the forefront of her mind. Hopefully, this would be more about Intel. Of course, with Nitro being involved, it would also be about blowing shit up. Explosives and Nitro went hand in hand, and anybody who knew him was aware of that. It was the reason most people were scared of him. Nobody wanted their place of business or their house blown up. Nitro could hold a grudge and you’d never see it coming until you were sitting in ashes wondering what the hell happened—a pile of memories and lives that were now ashes as if they never existed. It was a nightmare no one wanted to endure. Starting over was never easy and some memories in the aftermath of an explosion could never be revived; just a sad feeling of loss that left nothing more than a gaping hole of depression. For Nitro, the feelings were different. After a man holds onto a grudge for so long, letting it go brings a sense of freedom. For Nitro, revenge was truly a dish best-served cold. Now that he had Chandler, it eased the ragged edges and softened the scar tissue on his heart. She was the radiance that brought a light into his soul he’d never known could exist for him. Perhaps, one day, he would be rid of his demons, but for now, they were safely tucked away until he allowed them to release through his acts of revenge. He finally had some semblance of control over his life.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Jewel had just finished getting dressed when she heard a knock on the door. She sauntered over and opened it to view Nitro, Chandler, and her dog Suit. She couldn’t help but smile when she saw Suit. She was always amazed at how well-behaved he was. Chandler was able to take him everywhere she went without worrying about him running off or misbehaving. More than once, Jewel had thought he was half human and understood everything his master said to him. The bond between Chandler and Suit was as evident to outsiders as it was to the motley crew of Andrews and Chase.
Jewel leaned in and hugged Chandler, a sign of respect before she hugged Nitro. Years of being around biker chicks had conditioned her to be careful about hugging another woman’s man. It didn’t take much to start a hair pulling, biting, and scratching match among the women—especially the ones who were owned by patched-in members.
“Hey Suit, how are you?” Jewel waited for Nitro to give the dog the okay before she scratched him between the ears. A thump of his tail on the dingy carpet let Jewel know they were still cool. She’d never seen a dog who was as protective over two people in her life. Truth be told, she was scared of the stately black shepherd. He was as beautiful as he was smart with his raven black coat and serious amber eyes with flecks of gold throughout. He didn’t seem to miss anything and was always taking in his surroundings. The only time he relaxed was when he was home with aunt Thelma, and even then, he was on guard when it came to his humans—he truly was man’s best friend.
Jewel looked at Chandler, “Why did you name him Suit? It’s such an unusual name for a dog.”
“Ha, ha, he’s human,” Chandler laughed. Another tail thump showed he understood what his master was saying. “Roman rescued him from an abusive trainer. I used to call Roman ‘Suit’ so I just named the dog Suit, too. It seemed to fit.”
“Makes sense, and it suits him well, pun intended,” Jewel laughed at her own joke.
Chandler’s expression got serious, “I don’t know what we’d do without Suit at Andrews and Chase; he’s an intricate part of the agency, just as we are. He’s smart when it comes to solving cases and finding people. We love him like a child.”
“Yes, we do,” Nitro agreed.
“There he is,” Jewel said, looking up and seeing Roderick walk in. She kissed his cheek and smiled when she thought about their time in the shower earlier that morning.
Nitro and Roderick did a side hug and a fist bump—the total guy thing.
“Good to see, ya. It’s been too long,” Roderick smiled. “I was glad to hear we’d be working together. I’m itchin’ to get my hands dirty. It’s been a long time since I worked with explosives. There’s just something about watching a building blow—gives ya a rush like nothin’ else in the world. Speakin’ of rush, do you want a bump before we go?”
“No,” Nitro said, “I need my head straight and Chandler doesn’t like me driving her Hummer stoned.”
