Havoc’s Innocence (Havoc Guardians MC #2)

Chapter 1

Army

“He needs to die.”

Those four words land like bombs around the room as Toxic solemnly states them.

With how deep the loyalty runs within the Havoc Guardians, these words should never be uttered when speaking about one of our members.

Yet here we are.

Grinder, the brother who stands guilty in front of all his fellow brothers, shouldn’t be looking down the barrel of a gun—figuratively or literally—for his crime. However, he knew the consequences when he knowingly and willingly broke the club law.

He didn’t do it out of greed or disloyalty to the club, though, which makes enforcing his punishment that much worse.

Technically, for Grinder’s sin, according to our MC’s law, he should just be de-patched and kicked out of the MC.

However, because of his role and deep knowledge of our operations and the intricate, convoluted money side of things, we can’t exactly let him go on his merry fucking way.

Hence, a much harsher punishment is required.

I drag my hand down my face, making eye contact with Ash, our prez, as he steps forward to address the room.

All the patched-in members of the Havoc Guardians’ mother chapter are present for ‘church’, a meeting where we discuss, debrief, and vote on certain club matters.

For church today, though, we’re not voting on Grinder’s fate because the responsibility of an item like this comes down to a Council decision.

The Council being the upper-ranking leadership of the MC, which includes Ash as the prez, Bane as the VP, Digits as our security expert and hacker, Pix as our enforcer, who also doubles as treasurer, and me as the sergeant-at-arms and road captain.

When Grinder’s sins came to light, the Council had tried to find a way that wouldn’t result in the death of a loyal, good brother.

But in the end, our hands were tied by one of our iron-tight MC laws—an asinine, fucked law—that our predecessors had put in place.

There were a few such laws that we, as the current Council, had gone through the appropriate protocols to change—yes, our criminal enterprise is run like a Fortune 500 company—but unfortunately, we hadn’t changed this particular one yet.

So, church today was more to debrief the brothers on the outcome of Grinder’s fate. For them to hear the evidence that confirms his guilt, like a legal trial, a tribunal, or even a court-martial, like in the military.

Tension is thick as Ash takes time to make eye contact with every member present. Some have a hard look mixed with understanding, others have wary acceptance, whereas the old guard looks mutinous.

Which is bullshit. We’re here today, having to enforce this asinine club law, because of them. The old guard were the ones who had dreamt up, supported, and implemented this law.

The old guard are the older members who are well past their prime. They don’t contribute to the MC the same way they used to but refuse to ‘retire’. They just seem to live and breathe to bust the current Council’s balls about how Ash is leading the club.

The worst is Thunder, Ash’s uncle, who has always held a grudge because Ash got the president patch after his dad, Zeus, was killed.

The leadership of the Havoc Guardians isn’t inherited, not completely.

Zeus named Ash as his choice, but in the end, the MC as a whole had to vote.

The only ones who voted against Ash were the old guard.

You’d think Thunder would’ve licked his wounds in private, the message clear that the club wanted a leader like Ash and his vision he had for us. But no.

However, for today, the old guard’s mutinous attitude isn’t led by Thunder but by Razor, the past sergeant-at-arms like me when he was in his prime. And the father of the accused.

Ash addresses Razor and the rest of the old guard directly. “This particular law was implemented by you during your term on Council,” he reminds them in his deep, gravelly voice.

“This is bullshit,” Razor seethes, making a thick vein pop out on his forehead.

Ash continues as if he didn’t speak, “We don’t get to pick which club laws we enforce and who they apply to. There’s no gray zone here; there’s no ambiguity. It’s black and white.”

He stares Razor down, along with Thunder, who is standing beside his friend in solidarity. “According to the documents on file, you two were the ones who pushed for this law.”

Yeah, we may be a criminal band of outlaws and renegades, but we’re meticulous record keepers and run our empire like the multi-million-dollar operation it is.

“Grinder knew Angelica was Tank’s old lady when he slept with her,” Ash continues, and Grinder grimaces as he stares straight ahead.

“Just like he knew when he kept sleeping with her for over six months. He knew our law and that Angelica wore Tank’s tattoo—his brand—and was his old lady. And he knew the consequences.”

This was the asinine, fucked law. It doesn’t go so far as to force the old lady to stay with her man, but if she wanted someone else, it couldn’t be another member of the Havoc Guardians.

But both Grinder and Angelica knew this and the risk to him, and that he wouldn’t just be de-patched and kicked out of the MC if they were caught.

“And what about the bitch?” Razor spits. “What about her consequences?”

Tank moves to attack him, but Bane, who is just as big and solid as Tank, steps in his way and holds him back. The tension in the room escalates another notch.

“You shut your mouth about my woman,” Tank growls to Razor.

Razor, the goddamn idiot, still comes at him, but Pix steps in and presses her favorite long, thin knife into the soft part under his chin.

Pix, our tiny, bloodthirsty psycho pixie and the Havoc Guardians’ ruthless enforcer, doesn’t have to say a word. Her reputation and what she’s capable of are well-known to every person in this room.

Ash sighs heavily. I know how this is weighing on him; it weighs on all of us Council members, but we need to uphold the laws of our MC.

In my role as the sergeant-at-arms, I ensure that all our rules and laws are followed. I’m the one to give the patches when we decide a prospect has earned the right to become a brother. I’m the one in charge of stripping the patches, too.

I step forward. “Come here, Grinder.”

He’ll be stripped of his patches in front of everyone, but the next stage of his punishment will happen in the Cell—a hidden facility on the compound where we take our enemies, do what we do to them, and then make their bodies disappear.

“Don’t do this, Army,” Razor begs for his son’s life.

But we have no choice; I have no choice.

I don’t give Razor a response, only look at Grinder, who walks toward me with his head held high. It’s a goddamn shame we’re losing a solid, trustworthy member all because of forbidden pussy.

“What if this was Leeva?” Razor shouts, and I go rigid. “What if she came back, and you fucked her?”

Anger ripples over my skin. One, because a piece of shit like Razor is speaking about my little dove at all. And two, because Leeva is pure and innocent, and the mention of her, the thought of her, being fucked by a filthy son of a bitch like me is a hundred kinds of wrong.

And because I want nothing more than to have Leeva back in my life and defile her in all the ways I’ve dreamed of.

But she’s my best friend, my pure and innocent best friend.

Or she was until she ran from this life, and I let her go because I could never have her.

Not just because I was a filthy man, not worthy of my little dove, but because she was my hated blood-brother’s old lady.

“Shut your mouth, Razor,” Ash warns.

But I turn to face Razor. “Leeva wears Guerilla’s tattoo, marking her still as his old lady, so if she ever did return and I touched her, then I’d be facing the same punishment.”

He knows this, as does everyone in the room.

But I repeat Ash’s words to drive the point home. “We don’t get to pick which club laws we enforce and who they apply to. There’s no gray zone here; there’s no ambiguity. It’s black and white.”

“Stand down, Dad,” Grinder says, stepping beside me. His body is shaking slightly, but he’s steady.

Razor wants to fight and challenge me on this, but he regards his son for a heavy moment, then storms from the room. He punches the wall on the way out, and I know I’ve just made an enemy, giving Razor and the old guard more reason to continue challenging us and our rule.

But he’s not my concern at the moment.

Turning back to Grinder, I hold up my knife. His mouth presses thin, but he gives me a nod.

Using the tip of my blade, I cut the threads that secure his patches to his leather cut.

“Amos Hanley”—I use his legal name—“road name Grinder, I hereby take away your Havoc Guardians’ patches.

” I hand the patches I’ve removed from the front of his cut to Ash, then turn Grinder so I can take off the ones on the back with our club’s logo and name.

“You betrayed our brotherhood and the oath you made. You choose yourself over the club.” I cut the last thread, and Ash takes the patch.

Grinder turns to face me again, his face pale and his lips pressed tight.

“You’re no longer part of the Havoc Guardians,” I say without emotion, even though a riot of emotions is running rampant through me. “You’re out.”

His eyes meet mine. “If I can have one request?”

I nod.

“Make it quick.”