Fury (The Northern Kings MC #3)

Chapter One

The angry buzz beside my head continued, ricocheting off every angle of my dehydrated brain. I thumped the fucker twice, and still it vibrated. Incessantly. Torturously.

“Fury,” the voice beside me joined in the melee. “Fury. Shouldn’t you answer that?”

The voice was alien. Feminine, laced with the northern rumble of the Geordie accent. But not one I recognised.

Turning over towards the nightstand, I felt for my mobile, tugging it roughly from the dock that was charging it, the sickly neon green display reflecting the way I felt inside.

“What?”

“Where the fuck have you been?” the voice on the other end complained.

“Asleep, mate. That’s where most people are at fucking 4.30 in the morning. Inspecting the insides of their eyelids.”

“Aye, well. You’re needed at Trouble . It’s been hit.” Indie’s words woke me up.

“Hit, how?” I sat upright, ignoring the spin I’d just sent my head into.

“Done over. Don’t know much more than that right now. Tez rang and I need you down there.”

“On it.”

The room stilled, the spinning slowing down, but the thick clouds in my brain lingered. I’d probably had an hour’s sleep and much more alcohol than I should have. And now I was needed for club business, half-cut and half-asleep.

“Alright Jane…”

“It’s Gemma,” the woman lying next to me grumbled.

“Aye, Gemma. I’m gonna need to call you a taxi.”

“I can just stay here till you get back.”

“Nah, pet. Dunno when that’ll be.”

I held the mobile to my ear.

“Carl, I need a taxi straight away.” I pushed the covers off us both, cool air filling the space.

“I haven’t got owt for an hour at least.”

“That’s no good, Carl, mate. This is me calling in a favour.”

The man on the other end of the phone sighed heavily, and I was sure I could actually feel him rolling his eyes.

“Alright, alright. I’ll pull someone off a job. Be with you in ten minutes.”

“Make it five, Carl.”

He sighed again, bigger than the last. But our cloaked conversation was clear to us both, even if the naked woman in my bed didn’t understand it.

“Aye, aye, five minutes. I got it.”

*****

Trouble on the Tyne was a mess. The front doors were smashed inwards, big, thick pieces of wood bent and hanging off their hinges, splinters littering the floor. It was carnage. Messier than the remnants of a bike rally.

The wooden shards had been walked up the stairs, a trail of destruction left by an enraged Hansel and a menopausal Gretal. Inside, brothers in leather circled, wandering around surveying the damage, bewilderment and exasperation the only facial expressions.

I moved through the chaos of smashed glass, felled tables and chairs with bent legs, the murmur of voices mixed with the thick thud of my dehydrated brain. I needed water and sleep, and a joint, not necessarily in that order.

“Pleased you could drag your sorry ass out of bed and join us,” Indie complained, cutting the conversation off with Tez, who sported a cut eyebrow and the early shadowing of a black eye.

“What the fuck happened here?” I gripped my nose, concentrating on the pressure of my thumb and forefinger, rather than the alcohol that pumped through my system, enough to preserve a body for a year.

“Ransacked,” Tez grumbled.

“Can see that. Bit late in the night for a bar fight?”

“Wasn’t a fight. We were closing, cashing up, tidying. We’d had a good night. Main doors were closed.”

“Get to the fucking point, Tez.”

“Alright, Princess. Just cos you’ve had a skinful…”

“Tez,” Indie chipped in, his patience swiftly matching mine.

“Someone smashed through the main doors. Thought it was a bomb going off.”

I felt Indie shuffle beside me. Tez continued.

“We ran down to see what was going on. Thought someone had crashed through them or summit, but they were totally ripped off. Probably was a car or van or summit.”

Indie gave him the look again, and I resisted the urge to slap the story out of him if it meant I could get back to bed quicker.

“When we got back upstairs, we saw them at the bar, clearing us out. One of them had armfuls of the spirits, another had something stuffed inside his jacket. There were three others, all with weapons.”

“What sort of weapons?” I asked, hoping the answer would at least give us some decent intel.

“A crowbar and a baseball bat. Think someone had a pool cue. We tried to fight them off, but one little rat smacked that pool cue over my head.” Tez pointed at the eyebrow that leaked blood down his face and over the side of his beard. “They threatened two girls, too. But no one touched them. We made sure of that.”

“Ok, ok. Any idea who they were?” Indie asked, picking up the base of a tumbler with only one side left intact, the remaining glass forming a dangerous point.

Tez shook his head. “They had ski masks on. Wore leather bike jackets, so could be bikers. Or just chavs in leather. Who knows?”

Indie stuck his arm in the air, catching the attention of Demon and Magnet, who were talking to two women, each wearing nothing but a bra and thong.

“We need to see the CCTV, Tez. See what we can make out.”

Tez’ eyes dropped to his feet momentarily before they fixed back on Indie with a little too much purpose.

“What’s wrong, Tez?” I asked, watching his throat bob with tension.

“I didn’t have the CCTV running,” he murmured, his gaze fitting between all of us.

“Did I hear correctly?” Indie growled. “Because I suddenly feel confused and maybe have some tinnitus. You didn’t have the CCTV running?”

Tez shook his head, staring at his feet now. Anger, laced with frustration, flashed across Indie’s face, displaying the same feelings bubbling in my alcohol pickled stomach. Dumb fuck.

“Why?” I asked.

“I…I turned them off.”

“Fucking got that bit, Tez. Haway, mate. What ya playing at?”

If Tez didn’t start spilling the beans, I had a feeling Indie may just spill his guts, the darkness on his face more than I’d seen on him in years, way back when we were serving together.

“The girls. We were having some fun. I didn’t want anyone to find out.”

“By anyone, you mean your wife, don’t ya, mate?” Magnet shook his head, his face heavy with disappointment. “How long you been messing about?”

“A few weeks, maybe a month or two. She’s pregnant,” he added. “I was just frustrated. I needed to let my hair down. You know, get some, as she’s not up for it at the moment.”

The fist came from nowhere, burying itself in Tez’s mouth, not fully retracting before his lips popped and blood exploded down his face to join that which had already dried and matted into his beard.

“You don’t deserve a wife and a bairn, ya prick,” Magnet spat, his face contorted like he was chewing on a wasp.

“Fucking hell,” Indie looked at me. And suddenly he looked old. His face was tired, dark shadows under his eyes, even clear under the dull shit lights of Tez’s strip joint. “Get Magnet out of here.”

Demon nodded, dragging the spitting, fuming wildcat of a man away. Tez touched his face, disturbing the wound again, more blood oozing out.

“What’s wrong with Magnet?” he muttered, spitting a gob of blood onto the floor at his feet.

“Apart from he’s probably due his period, he’s pissed off that you’re fucking about behind your missus’ back and he can’t even get his up the duff. Better stay away from him at church tonight if you don’t fancy more of your teeth knocked out.”

Tez stayed in a far corner, well away from Magnet till the brothers had put what they could of Trouble on the Tyne back together and most of us had filtered out, back home to families, wives and girlfriends, or empty beds.

Indie lingered, glancing around tiredly.

“You all right, mate?” I asked, passing him a glass of whisky from the one bottle that had survived the ransacking relatively unscathed, apart from missing its neck.

His fingers clutched the tumbler, but he didn’t move the glass to his lips.

“Aye. Just lots going on. Emmie’s having terrible nightmares, waking up screaming in the night. I’m not getting much sleep, and now the undertakers are being cocks. Some new bigwig changing things up. Looks like Ste’s funeral is going to cost twice as much.”

“How?”

“Seem they can’t offer our usual rates anymore. The new boss is scrutinising everything within an inch of its life. I need to go sort it out.”

Indie was tired. Emmie was still recovering from being attacked by her ex, and whilst her physical injuries were healing well, it seemed her emotional ones were not.

“Look. I’ll call in before church. I’ll introduce the club and make sure they know what the deal is.”

Indie’s face moved. Not enough that you’d call it a smile, more of a concerted twitch. But it was as happy as he was going to look this side of dawn.