Chapter Six
“Where are you going now?” Birdie asks. “You just got home.”
“Got shit to do,” I mutter, yanking a clean shirt over my head to avoid having to look my woman in the eye.
The pain from my shoulder wound as I lift my arm helps keep me focused. Birdie can read me as well as I can her, which is why I’ve been putting distance between us. I’m not usually a man who feels guilt, but this shit has been smothering the fuck out of me the last week. Tendrils of guilt wrap around me so tightly that breaking free is impossible.
Knowing I’m going to have to destroy Birdie so I can keep her safe is fucking with my already fucked-up head.
I’ve racked my brain repeatedly for another solution, but anything I come up with still leaves Birdie dead at my feet.
I’d rather she lives her life breathing and hating me than not breathing at all.
Birdie grabs my arm. “Goddammit, Apollonos. Fucking talk to me. This isn’t what we do.”
I pull my arm from her hold. “Ain’t got shit to talk about, but I do got shit to do.”
“Pope, I’m not stupid,” she cries. “You’re pulling away, and I don’t understand why.”
My phone rings, keeping me from having to give her an answer I didn’t have. Nothing I say is going to make shit better for either of us.
“Yeah,” I answer the call.
“Got another threat delivered to the club,” Malice says.
“On my way.”
I shove my phone into my pocket and pull my kutte on.
“Will you at least be home later? We have to talk about this, Apollonos.”
“Don’t fucking know, all right?” I growl, twisting my hair up on my head. “Got a lot of shit going on.”
“Like what?” she asks, tossing her hands in the air. “We’re not doing good, Pope. What the hell is more important than that right now?”
“Club business,” I say, snapping my chains on my wallet in place.
“Don’t,” Birdie growls. “Don’t you pull that bullshit with me. I’m not a fucking common club girl. You don’t get to treat me like that. I deserve better.”
The anger and pain in her voice slams into my chest and threatens to rip my heart out.
“Later, okay?” I promise distractedly, brushing a kiss against her lips and walking out.
We sit around the table in the chapel as I read over the note and flip through the recent pictures of Birdie and Valkyrie. There’s more of my woman than her sister, which tells me who Clink’s main target it.
“I’m fucking tired of this,” I snarl, throwing the pictures onto the table. “I need some motherfucking heads to roll. We’re gonna go out and ride until we find a fucking Steel Slayer because I want . . . no, fuck that . . . I need a head in my hand. Then I want to stake it on their gate for them all to see. They need to understand our bark is just as sharp as our damn bite.”
We roll out in formation, keeping our eyes peeled as we ride through Coral Cay and the surrounding towns. It appears they’ve all gone underground or locked themselves inside their compound after sending the latest threat, and it pisses me off. Clink and his club are toying with us. I’m no one’s fucking plaything, and the longer we go with Clink playing around, the more tallies he gets against him. He’s going to die either way. Those tallies just determine how painful and fucked-up it’s going to be.
We’re riding back into Coral Cay when my eyes are drawn to movement down the alley next to Saint's Garage. The lights hit the back of the man terrorizing a woman cowering against the wall. I grit my teeth and curl my top lip when I make out the familiar Grim Reaper logo.
Adrenaline pumps through me and excitement makes my balls tingle.
My brothers follow my lead as I swing us toward the alley. We spread out as we pull up, blocking his way out. Silence fills the air around us as we kill our engines, and the Steel Slayer whips his head our way. The whites of his eyes shine bright through the darkness when they widen.
Did he really think he could pull some shit like this in my town and get away with it? These are my fucking people, and we protect them from the other monsters who find themselves roaming our streets. The residents of Coral Cay feared us at first, but the longer the club was rooted, the more we grew on them. They trust us and come to us with shit they see going wrong in town.
Relief flashes in the woman’s eyes, and I recognize her as one of the dancers at The Body Shop.
“Get gone,” I order her.
She sobs and ducks under the frozen Steel Slayer’s arm. He comes alive just as she scurries out of the alley and into the night.
“Nuh, uh, uh,” I warn when his hand drifts to his kutte. “You won’t make it before my man puts a pretty little hole in your head.”
The chains on my boots smack together as I close the distance between us, creating a tinkling melody as my theme song.
I’m just a few feet away when he chooses to prove he has rocks rattling around up there and pulls his gun on me.
I click my tongue against the roof of my mouth. “There’s always that bulb that never shines very bright, and I get stuck with him. Lucky for me, I suppose.” I stare at him intensely, watching for any tiny movement he might make. “Well, are you going to pull the trigger or what?”
“You’re fucking crazy,” the Steel Slayer mutters when he realizes I don’t fear the gun he has shoved in my face.
I sigh, put out that he’s not squeezed the trigger yet. “So I’ve heard.”
Before he gets a chance to keep being stupid, I whip my gun out and shoot him in his hand. His pistol clatters to the concrete as he groans, and I laugh.
“You really should’ve pulled the trigger when I gave you the chance. Now, look at you with a hole in your hand.”
His eyes bounce around, searching for an escape route that he’ll never find. These are our motherfucking streets, and we’re not stupid.
Butcher glides up beside us and holds my axe out to me. “It’s all clear, Prez.”
“Excellent,” I purr, accepting my precious and twirling her around as I eye my prey. She makes such a pretty whistling noise as I swing her through the air.
Sing for me, baby.
Ah, look, there’s that hint of fear from him. It’s smart of him, really. You never know what a crazy man will do with such a beautiful, sharp blade like this.
Could cut off his head. Could cut off his toes. You just never really know. Lucky for him, I don’t mind informing him of my plans.
“Why were you cornering my employee?”
His lips twitch, and I know he’s about to be fucking stupid again.
“I wanted to see what she’d look like on her knees, stuffed full of my fat cock.”
“And if she didn’t want your pencil dick in her mouth?”
He rolls his eyes and the smirk he was fighting breaks free. “Bitches always want it.”
“But let’s pretend she didn’t,” I say, swinging my precious girl through the air as I prepare.
“She wouldn’t have had a choice,” he growls, finally showing his colors.
“As I thought.”
I nod at Malice and Manic, watching them march up to him. They each grab an arm, twisting it behind his back and holding his head in place. He struggles, already seeing his fate written in my cold, empty eyes.
“You made this so much easier by confirming you’re a piece of shit.”
“Make what easier?” he stupidly asks.
“Why, taking your head, of course,” I reply jovially. “It’s about to get messy, boys.” I step closer and draw my arm back. “See you in hell, motherfucker.”
My swing is perfect as I aim for his neck. Blood spurts, coating Manic, Malice, and myself as my precious girl lands right at his jugular, slicing through. I withdraw, then swing again.
Huh. I probably should have sharpened my blade before our ride.
Oh, well. One more ought to do it.
My last swing slices completely through, and I let out a loud whoop when Malice is left holding the Steel Slayer’s head.
“Little rusty there, Prez,” Manic remarks.
I gasp, bringing my precious to my chest and covering her with my other hand. “Shh. You’ll hurt her feelings.”
“Probably should get her a little touch-up, brother,” Joker quips.
“D-Bag, make sure my girl here sharpens up before you put her back in the armory.”
“Will do, Prez,” he says, taking her from me and stowing her in his side bag.
“Cyanide, get Screw to bring a cage down to transport the body to their club. When we get close, I’ll drag him behind me until I reach the gate. Then we’ll leave the head and the body to make our statement. Everyone good with that?”
Joker passes me some baby wipes, and I clean as much of the blood from my face as I can. It’s only minutes later that Screw pulls up and we load the Steel Slayer onto a tarp in the back.
“What about this, Prez?” Malice asks, shaking the head and slinging blood.
I grin and take it from him. “He’s gonna ride with me.”
Once I’m seated on my bike, I place the head on the gas tank and turn him so he’s facing my dick. “There,” I say, patting the top of his head. “Now, you have something pretty to stare at while we go for a ride.”
“Screw, Ducky, keep an eye on the scene until the cleaning crew gets here to make sure nothing is left behind,” Malice orders.
The others fall in formation as we ride out. It’s late and a weeknight, so most people are locked in. Coral Cay doesn’t usually bust loose until the weekend, then we’re lucky to find empty space on the streets. We try to keep most of our shit at the clubhouse or at Slop and Chop, but this wouldn’t be the first time the residents saw some fucked-up shit from us. Though riding through town with a chopped-off head practically choking on my cock would be a new one.
Simply scandalous.
We take a turn about a mile out from the Steel Slayers compound in Stormy Ridge when the head starts to slide from the tank.
I laugh gleefully, tangling my fingers in the blood-matted hair, and put him back in place. “Whoa, there, little buddy. You can’t escape that easily.”
Joker leads us into an empty wooded lot so we can get the other half of my little friend and bring him along for the ride to his home.
While the guys unload the body, I find a spot on the back of my bike to hook the chain to. After it’s anchored tightly, I scoot the body closer and create a harness around his torso, snapping the lock in place, then I give a quick tug to check its sturdiness. Satisfied, I dust my hands together and rise.
Swinging my leg over my seat, I get settled and drift my eyes between the head and the body with a twisted grin. “Geez, guys. I’ve never been the cream in a sandwich before. I’m flattered I was chosen. Be gentle with me.”
“If you’re done flirting, Prez, we should get a move on before we’re surrounded by Steel Slayers,” Pretty Boy suggests with a laugh.
I stick my bottom lip out but fire my bike up. “If you insist, Pretty Boy. Honestly, I think you’re just jealous it’s me and not you.” I shake my head. “All right, brothers. This will all go down quickly. We’ll set the body against the fence, and I’ll find the sharpest point I can to stake the head. Then we get the hell out of there. Protect yourselves against them if you must. Otherwise, it’s a drop and roll.”
I lift my hand in the air, twirling my finger to give them the signal to ride out.
Butcher and Manic peel off so they can take out whoever is manning their gates before they’re able to alert anyone of our presence.
Clink toys with us, and it’s time to toy with him in return.
I have all trust in my brothers, so I don’t hesitate to roll up to the gates. Butcher is sitting inside the gatehouse while Manic stands outside of it with his arms crossed. My eyes scan the perimeter. For how big the Steel Slayers are, this chapter sure is fucking stupid. If a group of bikes were to roll up at our clubhouse, they’d be surrounded in a fucking heartbeat.
Seems the Stormy Ridge chapter of the Steel Slayers MC are more concerned with their personal vendetta against me than actually running their fucking club and protecting the people in it.
I swing off my bike, making sure the head is in place and not going to make a run for it before heading to the back of my bike. The corpse is a mangled lump of flesh, bone, and material that would make great food for some of the beasts roaming around the surrounding woods.
“Woo wee, boys. Look at this delicious fucking roadkill. I have to say . . . I cooked up a masterpiece.”
Malice laughs. “Crazy fuck.”
“Well, that was just rude,” I huff, squatting to unhook the chains.
Pieces of loose skin stick to them as I lift, and I flick the meaty flesh off. It lands on the toe of Pretty Boy’s boots, and he stares down at it in pure heartbreak.
“Ah, man, not the fucking boots,” he whines, shaking his foot to remove it.
“Sorry, not sorry,” I quip, hefting the headless corpse and carrying it to the gate.
I toss it down then straighten him so he’s sitting up against it. There’s a perfect spiked point right above him, but as I step back, another idea occurs to me, and I smile. “Bring me the head.”
Tomcat whistles as he carries it over and passes it to me.
Dropping down, I place the head in the Steel Slayer’s lap then take his mangled hands and place them on top of it.
Then, with a maniacal grin, I step back and unzip my jeans, pulling my cock out. I make sure to soak him as much as I can as I empty my bladder.
Nothing as disrespectful as pissing in someone’s face.
The dead won’t know, but the living sure in the hell will.
I suppose that’s why it’s my favorite thing to do.
After I shake and tuck myself back in, I lean over to swipe my finger through the blood that’s starting to coagulate where his head used to sit. I bring it to his forehead and glide it up and down, back to the middle, then side to side, creating my calling card.
My enemies always fucking know who is leaving the mess behind when they spot the bloody cross.
“Message delivered,” I say, taking the wipe from Malice and holding my hand out for the sanitizer. “Let’s ride, brothers.”
I don’t think for a second this is going to stop them from coming after the club or the girls, but it’ll let them know I’m finished playing their games.
Once I’m sure my girl is safe, I’m coming for them. I’ll be coming for all of them.
Birdie was the only thing keeping that last thread of my humanity in place. Once she’s gone, there will be nothing left to stop the reaper from breaking free. He’ll be searching for souls to devour, and I have a whole fucking club I’ll deliver to him.