Mayhem dauntless mc book.., p.9
Mayhem (Dauntless MC Book 3), page 9
“Aw fuck, girl. You’re going to make me cum.”
She tightened her hand around his throbbing cock as she continued working him over. She could feel him throbbing as he released all of the tension he’d been feeling just moments ago. She took everything he had to give and then tucked him back in his pants and zipped his zipper.
She patted his sated cock, and then sat down between his legs and smiled, “Now, we can talk.”
“Man, I was counting on being able to blow those sonofabitches off the map; just one clean swoop.”
“We don’t kill kids, Tiny—bad karma.”
“I know that,” he scowled. “Coy did call me and he’s checking into putting malware on Chito’s computer. That should work. Any business Chito does will be done that way; everything’s done online nowadays. I just wanted the bastard dead, so I didn’t have to worry about them coming for us. I’m still looking for that junkie who was there that night. I’ve got a couple more stash houses to check; takin’ Preacher with me.”
“What are you going to do if he admits telling the Colombians we did the theft?”
“I’m going to put it back on him and let the Colombians kill him. He’s the one with the fingerprints on the gun. Everybody knows junkies are liars—they can look you dead in the eyes and lie their asses off. The Colombians won’t be the first to be deceived by a lying junkie. Always remember: the secret to lying is convincing yourself, and I’ve convinced myself I’m not responsible for that theft. It’s my truth,” he winked at her.
“You could kill him after you make him tell the Colombians he did it.” She wanted to believe the Colombians would blame the junkie but having insurance would put her mind at ease. Too much could go wrong in this scenario. Leaving witnesses behind wasn’t what bikers usually did. Loose lips and all that.
“That’s a thought.” He laughed, “Nitro got another dog on the stakeout they did. Chito’s dog ran away and found them in the forest. Damn dog went looking for Suit and ended up going home with them. Nitro swears his woman draws strays because they know she’ll take them home.”
“I’ve always said we could use a dog around here—a big snarling one that bites.”
“If it was one as smart as Suit, I’d have to agree with you. That dog is human.”
“So… does this mean you’re buying me a puppy?”
“I tell ya what. If Suit has puppies with his new woman, I’ll get one for you. How does that sound?”
“It’s sounds like you want a puppy with Suit’s DNA.”
“I do. Like I said: the dog is human. I don’t want a dumb dog. If I get one of Suit’s offspring, I’m assured to get good stock.”
“I’m going to hold you to that promise. Don’t you ever wonder how they make that threesome they’ve got going on work? I mean, how can you have two guys in love with the same woman and no jealousy between them?”
“It seems to work for them. I couldn’t handle the thought of another man fucking you. I’d kill him.”
Tiny kissed Raven’s forehead, “Thanks for the blowjob. You definitely know how to take the edge off. I love you, Raven. I gotta go and hit the rest of these stash houses.”
“Please be careful. I don’t trust junkies. You never know what they’ll do when they’re jonesing. Those neighborhoods you go into are dangerous.”
“I can assure you the man will admit to something he didn’t do if I give him the money for another hit of crack. All I care about is getting these fucking Colombians off our ass. I don’t like being out of control. I have no idea how these guys operate and it’s making me lose sleep.”
“Just be careful. I love you, Tiny.”
“I love you, too, beautiful.” One more kiss on her forehead and he was off to find Preacher. They had work to do and there was no time like the present to get it done.
Tiny sauntered down the hallway and met Preacher at his door. Preacher had a way of knowing when it was time to leave; like some radar that kept him connected to his best friend. Working together had a way of connecting two people’s thoughts and turning them into one working unit—a successful unit that always got the job done.
“What the fuck was that glass shattering in your room? Is there trouble in paradise?” Preacher had a smug look on his face as if trying to rub Tiny’s bad temper in his face. Everyone in the club knew Tiny had a bad temper and they were all careful about pissing him off. Preacher liked to push it, though, just to irritate his brother in arms.
“I threw an ashtray when I found out I can’t blowup Chito’s house.”
“We’ll find another way. Even for us, killing kids is out of the question. I’m sure Nitro is upset he won’t be able to put his skills to use.”
“I think that guy gets a hard-on when he blows shit up.”
“Nobody can blow-up a building like Nitro. He comes in handy, that’s for damn sure.”
“Ready to go into the dark side of the city, Preacher?”
“If you think you can hit the streets and all the hookers won’t be hitting on you,” Preacher laughed. “I’ve never seen another man who can get hookers to give away their wares for sale.”
“What can I say? Not every guy has hookers offering to give it up for free. I’m special. Don’t want no free pussy now that I got Raven.”
“We’ll see how special you are if Raven finds out all those women are hitting on you.”
“Nothing to find out because I never take them up on their offers. Don’t start any shit and there won’t be none.”
“I live to antagonize you, brother.”
“Well, just have my back on these mean streets.”
Preacher’s expression got serious, “I’ll always have your back—we’re like wedding vows: till death do us part.”
“I know that’s right.”
Both men climbed into a black van; not willing to leave their Harleys parked on the downtown streets of Louisville. The only thing they loved more than their bikes was their women and their club brothers.
Any city has a time at night when the streets are so quiet, there’s an eerie settling in of the edifices. The businesses are closed and the wind winds around corners in a quiet way that makes you feel as if someone is watching you. You find yourself looking over your shoulder to see if the stalker movie you watched last night is your new reality. You promise yourself you’ll park closer next time, or you’ll have the security guard walk you to your car—promises you hope you’ll live long enough to keep. It’s the time of night when those with picket fences and waiting spouses are home safely behind their locked doors and windows. It’s also the time of night that predators come out to play, hookers come out to work, and those with demon’s they’ve kept subdued allow them to be unleashed. It’s the time of day they hope this will be the last time they are forced to sate their dark secrets they keep hidden in closets of obscurity. It’s the time of night their spouses feign sleep as they lie to themselves about where their better half really is. “I went for a walk” holds new meaning for those left behind to wonder. It’s a lie they’ll choose to believe for the sake of holding together the fragile family ties that bind.
“It’s too quiet out here, tonight; the kind of quiet that’s so loud, it’s troubling. It gets down into you and shakes you up, Preacher.”
“I think it’s eerie when the streets are slow, too. Makes you wonder if you missed the memo. Let’s just hope it works in our favor.” Preacher eased up towards the side of the house that was a rumored flophouse. The torn sheet hung over the window made it easy for the men to see through. Bodies were splayed over furniture, half-nude, and those completely unclothed were engaged in an orgy while voyeurs stood around taping the scene with their phones; no doubt they’d be posting it on the internet later. It wasn’t the type of crowd who would wake up with regrets the morning after. Surely, those out for a walk wouldn’t leave such scathing evidence for the family to witness. White picket fences, little white lies, and dark demons left a trail of dangerous grey matter to reveal ugly truths.
Preacher smirked and looked at Tiny, “This isn’t a drug flophouse. It’s a sex flophouse. On to the next local, brother.”
They walked over a couple of blocks and eased around to the back of the next flophouse. It was a drug house where people rang a bell and placed money through a mail slot. A couple of seconds later, a hand would appear with a baggie or a small balloon that held the next fix. Junkies were always chasing their first high. The oblivion that sent them in to a world they never knew existed—a dopamine filled experience that promised a paradise that could never be obtained. Life would continue as hell on earth with death chasing on the heels of all who had been deceived by their mistake of doing the drug for the first time. There would be no turning back time and no re-do—the choice had been made and death would be the result. Rehab worked for a choice few. Those who had a support group, and most of these people, had worn out their welcome long ago.
Preacher whispered in Tiny’s direction, “They must have forgot to lock the back door.” The handle turned easily as Preacher quietly opened the door. They walked down a narrow hallway adorned with graffiti; some random paintings and others tags of local gangs in the Louisville area. At the end, it opened up into a large room where bodies were sprawled out. Some were asleep and others sat with their back to the wall. Some smoked through small glass pipes and others jabbed for veins that collapsed with each stab of the needle.
“I hate needles,” Tiny growled.
“I’d be worried about you if you didn’t,” Preacher said. “Don’t touch anything. These people pass around needles with no thought of the consequences. I’ve heard stories about them purposely stabbing people with them to make them sick. Pretty fucked up, huh?”
“Not much scares me but you’re doing a hell of a job right now. Let’s get out of here.”
“Let’s find our boy first.”
They stood on the fringes of the room and scanned over the bodies that all looked the same.
“I think that’s him,” Preacher said.
“It is, now let’s go wait until he leaves and then we’ll snag him. We don’t want any witnesses.”
Preacher’s only response was briskly walking towards the back door. He wasn’t too keen on getting stabbed with a needle, either.
The men sauntered on down the block. They waited around the corner of the alley that led up to the house. It didn’t take long for the junkie to leave the house. He’d done the drugs and now it was time to make money for the next one. He had no idea he was being followed.
Tiny and Preacher walked over one block and headed the man off. He would never suspect someone coming at him head on. It was human nature to look over your shoulder, but most people never paid much attention to people walking towards them.
Tiny and Preacher sped up and approached the man. He wore dirty jeans with a white t-shirt that had seen better days with a hoodie over it. He was too busy scratching his arms and sniffling to notice Tiny and Preacher.
Preacher leaned in and whispered, “That’s our boy, for sure.”
“Hey man,” Tiny growled.
When Preacher noticed him reaching in his pocket, he grabbed him and wrapped both of his arms around him, “Not so quick. You wouldn’t want to shoot us with a stolen gun.”
“Man, I had no choice. I know why you’re here. I was asleep so I don’t know if you robbed those Colombians. I damn sure didn’t want them thinking I did it.”
“Yeah, well now you’ve got them on our ass, and we didn’t do anything. We’re not responsible for that takedown. You’re going to call ‘em and tell ‘em it wasn’t us. You have no idea the shit I went through to get this fucker’s number.”
Tiny pulled his phone out and dialed Chito’s and put it on speaker.
“Chito, I lied. It wasn’t the bikers who robbed that stash house. I was asleep. I didn’t see nothing. I didn’t want you thinkin’ I did it, man. I was scared. You would have done the same thing,” he said, in an effort to gain some sympathy. Maybe if he could make the man see him as human rather than a junkie…
“You stupid sonofabitch. Do you realize you could have started a war? I ought to kill you, man. Do you have any idea how much trouble that could have started? The Ramirez brothers have a peace treaty with Dauntless MC and you could have started a war with them.”
“I’m sorry, I was scared.”
The line went dead, leaving the men without a clue what Chito’s next move was.
The junkie’s eyes showed clarity for a second, “I know y’all did it—I saw you. I need money for a hit.” Jonesing had a way of making a man bold.
“Don’t come around the clubhouse. You’ve got nothin’ on us. They’ll never believe you now because they already caught you in a lie.” Tiny pulled a hundred-dollar bill from his wallet and gave it to the junkie. Both men laughed as they watched him run away like he was scared they’d take it back.
“Remind me never to get hooked on anything, Preacher.”
“I hear ya. It isn’t worth all the trouble. What are we going to do about Chito’s load, now?”
“We’re going to steal it. Buying my woman a house is going to clean me out. I’ll need more cash and so will you.”
“Never a dull moment…”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Nitro sat clicking away at the keys of the computer. Chandler sat sideways in a chair with her legs over the arm of it licking on a popsicle.
Nitro cut his eyes at her, “Watching you lick that thing is making it very hard to concentrate.”
“Emphasis on the word hard?”
“I’ve gotta work. Stop fuckin’ with my head.”
“Emphasis on the word head?” She giggled at her own joke.
“I’m in,” Nitro smiled. He was referring to the hacking he’d been doing. He was pleased to see his skills were still finely-tuned. Hacking was something that always came in handy in his line of work. Sometimes a subtle touch could accomplish more than an explosive one. In the beginning of his career, he had taken more time to study the intricacies of the art. As he began doing more work with explosives, that took up more of his time and concentration. Fucking up making an explosive could mean death so it was understandable why he had focused on the more dangerous of the two. Even a criminal had to study his craft; things were always changing, and you had to keep up with the changes or fall behind. Nitro was a perfectionist, so he studied a lot. It was a trait Chandler had always been impressed with. He was smart but his mind veered towards criminal activities.
“That was easy. How did you do it?”
“Sent Chito an E-Mail that said he’d won some thing and he clicked on the link.”
“Gives new meaning to the saying ‘if it sounds too good…’”
“To be true it probably is,” Nitro finished for her.
“Why is it everybody wants something for nothing?”
“Human nature, I guess. You better get ready for a meeting with the bikers, Chandler.” Chandler was aware the Latinos had their own way of doing things; a signature to let the enemy know there was a traitor in their midst. Nothing fucked with a boss’s head more than knowing there was someone on the inside who had betrayed them; they always took it to heart. It was a strike to their ego and any boss had a huge one. Money changed people; it had a way of testing the closest of friendships and unravelling what it had taken years to forge. There was no love lost when a man stood a chance of getting rich.
“Why do you say that?”
“This can’t go down biker style. It needs to be done Latino style. Going in with patches on kuttes wasn’t an option. The biker’s size and long hair was enough of a giveaway. No sense in leaving the wrong signature that would lead the enemy to the clubhouse door. With less men, they were having to use brains rather than brawn. It was a challenge for men who were used to beating down the opposition with their fists.”
“It’ll throw them off as far as who did it.”
“Exactly. The Sinaloans and Colombians are always in competition over territory and money. We need to make it look like it’s one of their normal rivals. Totally off subject but… I’d buy you a house when we finish this job, but you already have one.”
“I’m not leaving Aunt Thelma. We have the money to buy a house, now. Money’s no issue for either of us, Nitro.”
“I guess we’ll save it for Junior’s college fund.” His cockeyed grin made her smile; it was an innocent look for a man who was anything but.
“What if I get pregnant with Roman’s baby?”
“I already told you it doesn’t matter whose baby you have.”
“You’re such a liar. You know you want it to be yours.”
“Okay, you’re right. I want you to have my kid. I guess that means I’ll have to fuck you every day.”
“If that’s supposed to be a threat…”
“It’s a promise, baby girl.”
Suit whined from where he was laying on his bed in the corner. The whine was followed by body jerks—a sure sign he was dreaming.
“He’s dreaming he’s chasing rabbits,” Chandler smiled when she saw Traje put her paw on Suit trying to comfort him. She loved Suit and made it very difficult for him not to love her back. She was winning him over more with each passing day. She followed him wherever he went, and when he slept, she scooted in next to him spooning his furry body. Traje was already seeing what life was like with the love of humans and a companion. The touch of a human gave a dog the sense of security and acceptance—something Traje had never experienced.
