Raze (Dirty Soul MC: Long Beach #1)

Chapter 7

“What is your real name?” Burlusconi takes off his sunshades and places them on the table as I approach him in the backyard of his ranch. He gestures his hand to the seat opposite him at the bistro table he’s sitting at.

“No one uses my first name, no more,” I answer, trying to remember the last time someone called me by it.

“I’d like to know it.” He furrows his brow, and since I’ve been told that Burlusconi is to get exactly what he wants, I give it to him.

“Logan Ashford.” The name comes off my lips as if it belongs to a stranger.

“Logan Ashford.” Burlusconi nods his head like he’s impressed by it. “You bikers should think about using your normal names instead of the pet ones you give each other. Tell me, Logan, how did you earn the name, Raze?”

“I thought I came here to discuss us movin’ forward, not my personal attributes?” I point out, nodding politely to the waiter who places a tray on the table. It contains a jug of lemonade, two glasses, and two already-cut lines of cocaine beside a generous heap.

“Past experiences have taught me that it’s in my interest to know the men I put my trust into,” he points out. Holding out a rolled-up 50-dollar bill so I can sample his product. I don’t need to take it to know it’s good. I’m aware of its street value and how sought after it is. But in the spirit of building trust, I indulge.

The powder’s so fuckin’ fine it tickles rather than burns and I wipe under my nose with my thumb before handing the bill back to Burlusconi.

“Your name, how did you earn it?” He flicks his finger, gesturing for me to continue.

“The club didn’t give it to me, my fight instructor did,” I explain, trying not to think back to the time when I was happiest. “All fighters need a gimmick and that was mine.” I shrug.

“So you fight?” he looks up at me before snorting his line and smiling at the satisfaction.

“I used to, it’s been a while,” I admit.

“Professionally?” He seems impressed, I’ve done my research on Raoul Burlusconi, I know he enjoys gambling on a good fight.

“Maybe I could have been, but I took a different path.”

“Club life, it chooses you, right?” He sniggers.

“You could say that.” I agree.

“So why step away from it for so long? I know how hard Jimmer had to work to get you here.” He narrows his eyes as if he’s daring me to lie to him.

“Because I lost my faith in the brotherhood and I failed someone close to me.”

“A female… it is always a female.” His head tips back as he laughs to himself. “They make us weak, do they not?” He looks out past his freshly cut lawn and fancy pool toward the Hollywood sign that’s just about visible in the distance.

“Listen, Raoul. I came here to assure you that you can trust me and you can trust my men. I pride myself on my honesty and I hope you’ll take my word when I promise that I ain’t nothin’ like Cliff Adams.”

“So I’ve been told. Jimmer spoke very highly of you.” He nods his head and takes a sip of his lemonade. “He saw you as the end to all Long Beach’s problems.”

“And I don’t intend on lettin’ him down.” I ignore how pressuring that thought is and offer Raoul a confident smile.

“Have you heard of the D’Marcos, Logan?” He places down his glass and changes the subject.

“No, but I’ve been in town for less than two days. I’m sure if I go back to the club–”

“The Lambroni brothers have been silenced and now Davide D’Marco thinks he can become my next challenger. He sent me a threat, one that named my wife and my child.”

Fuck!

“You want it taken care of.” I don’t even have to ask, I already know this will be my first test.

“No, a Burlusconi man likes to serve his own punishments. I just need you to find him and bring him to me. This residence is not my family home, it’s used only for business. I have facilities here that can accommodate him while he regrets his decision.” A wicked smirk lifts onto his cheek as he lights himself a cigar.

“Understood.” I nod my head.

“I’m also assuming the run will go ahead as scheduled. I’m relying on the buyer, your Nevada charter fixed up to have his money ready. I want this deal moved fast. Dealing weapons makes me uncomfortable.” He curls his lip. “I much prefer to stick with what I know.” He licks his finger and dabs it into the cocaine heap before sucking it clean.

“So why do it?” Curiosity gets the better of me, Burlusconi doesn’t strike me as the kind of man to do something he doesn’t want to.

“Let’s just say I stumbled across some supply, and the sooner I get it out of my state, the better.”

“Consuela, she busted the Lambronis for arms, it’s their supply ain’t it?” I sit up a little straighter in my chair when I start to put two and two together.

“I pay you to move it, Logan Ashford, you needn’t concern yourself with where it came from.” I know the agent worked closely with Jimmer and there’s rumors that they had something between ‘em. Burlusconi seems to trust her too, which makes me even more sure that the call she made to me was legit.

“You have your work cut out for you, Logan.” Raoul balances his smoke between his lips so he can hold out his hand for me to shake.

“It’s a good thing I like a challenge.” I shake it firmly before making my way back through the house, to my bike so I can get back to the club.

It takes me just under an hour to get back to the club and when I pull through the gates and only see a few bikes parked up in the parking lot, I consider going straight to my hut to check if Peyton is okay. I sent out a message to all the club members this morning explaining that the girl was staying as my guest and that they were to stay away from her. I don’t care what my new brothers take from that, I just wanted to ensure they all keep their distance.

I hear music thumping from the clubhouse and when I hear what sounds like another fight breaking out I rush through the arch to see what's happening. Ruckus has Greaser pinned up against the concrete wall and I take a long patient breath before moving toward ‘em to prise ‘em apart.

“What the hell ya doin’ turnin’ on each other?” I yell in both their faces because this right here, is the last damn thing I need.

“You don’t get to kick me outta my own damn club, you let that bit of power Jimmer gave ya, go to ya head boy.” Greaser points his finger angrily at Ruckus as I shove him back and put more distance between them. I know for a sure fact that Ruckus knows how to fight. I was the one who fuckin’ taught him.

“What’s goin’ on here?” Griller comes strolling out the clubhouse toward us and I start to imagine how this is gonna go down.

“I was just followin’ my prez’s orders. You were both in there encouragin’ her.” Ruckus continues to frame up to Greaser over my shoulder.

“Ruckus.” I turn my head and let my face warn him to back the hell down.

“I’m done with this bull shit. You’re tryin’ to turn us all into somethin’ we ain’t. Cliff may have been bad but at least he’d let a brother have a good time.” Greaser backs out the gate shaking his head at us.

“Wait, Grease, where ya goin?” Griller calls after him.

“To find someplace where men like us belong, it ain’t gonna be here,” he tells his brother who seems torn as he looks between him and the clubhouse.

“You comin’?” he asks.

“Greaser, you ain’t thinkin’ straight come back.” He tries to reason with him.

“I ain’t stayin’ here and bein’ a sheep,” he shouts back over the wall, and when I hear his bike start up me and Ruckus both look to his brother wonderin’ what he’s gonna do next.

“Guess you gotta decide if you're a sheep, Grill,” Ruckus adds fuel to the fire. “You gonna follow ya brother?”

“I ain’t no fuckin’ sheep.” Griller steps right up in his face and forces him to take a step back and when Ruckus slams him in the chest I step in for a second time.

“Now someone tell me what’s goin’ on.”

“I tried, Boss.” Ruckus backs off, shrugging his shoulders, and moving toward the door to the club so he can open it for me.

“What are ya talkin’ ‘bout?” I let go of Griller and shove past Ruckus to get inside and all my nerves tick like they're about to go off when I see what’s in front of me.

“Get the fuck down.” Dev is trying to reason with Peyton, but she’s flat out ignoring him as she dances on the table to the music that’s blaring out of the speakers. Saint’s sitting on a stool in the corner with a bag of ice pressed between his legs, and it seems half my damn club is watching as the girl I told them all to stay away from sways her hips wearing just a bra and a flimsy pair of panties.

I cut the music and immediately all the eyes in the room turn to me, including hers.

“I’m sorry, Boss, we got here as soon as Saint called,” Dev explains, backing away from her and standing beside him.

“What the fuck happened here? Can no one follow a simple damn order?” I yell, slamming my fist into the table next to me. I’m seriously considering taking out my knife and stabbing into Griller’s fuckin’ eye when his focus remains on her. She’s stopped dancing but has broken into what seems like an uncontrollable fit of giggles.

“Get down.” I march toward her, trying hard to keep my focus on her face and not the perfectly proportioned body she has on full display to my members.

“Raze, get on up here and have some fun with me.” She leans forward and rests her hands on my shoulders and she doesn’t take the hint when I stare back at her sternly.

“Whoa, looks like Mr Serious showed up to the party. Can’t we make Sinner come back?” She looks over her shoulder toward Saint. “Yo, you.” She points at him. “Whatever your name is, get your brother back here, he’s fun.” I divert my eyes over to Saint who shakes his head apologetically. I’m yet to have the pleasure of meeting Sinner, but I already know I ain’t gonna like him.

“Get down,” I tell her again, getting closer to losing my patience.

“Or you’ll do what?” She tests me, and I realize that the girl who’s standing in front of me now is very far detached from the girl who was screaming in her sleep last night. I hate how mad she’s gotten me, I’m furious that she couldn't follow a simple rule that I put in place to keep her safe, and because of that I wrap my arms around her thighs and fold her over my shoulder.

“Put me down,” she protests, trying to kick her legs while she thumps me on the back. But I ignore her, squeezing her thighs tighter together to immoblize her legs completely. I allow her fists to attack my back as I carry her out the side door, onto the balcony, and then down the stairs onto the beach.

“Put me down, I can walk,” she screams and when I stop and place her on her feet she tries to steady herself but ends up falling in the sand.

I say nothing, just shake my head and heave her back up on my shoulder.

“This really is over-the-top behavior, you know,” she slurs. “I was just trying to have some fun. Maybe if you loosened up a little you might have some too.” I get to my porch and kick open the door, slumping her deadweight, body onto my couch and heading to the refrigerator to get her a bottle of water.

“Drink this.” I shove it in her hands and fold my arms, watching her stick out her tongue and focus real hard on getting the cap off.

“Jesus.” Snatching it back off her I unscrew the lid, cupping her chin in my other hand, and tipping her head back so I can pour some water into her mouth. She ends up spitting it back out at me when she starts giggling again.

“You're feeding me like a little baby bird.” She snorts, and I have to dig real deep to find some patience.

“Just drink.” I try and get some into her again, this time successfully, and when she pushes my hand away to say she’s had enough I watch her slide the back of her hand over her mouth and start to laugh some more.

“I’m sorry.” She fails miserably to keep the amusement off her face. “I just can’t remember the last time I had fun.” Her smile fades, and the menace in her eyes quickly turns sad. It makes me crouch down in front of her when I realize how tragic that sounds. “I’m really sorry, Raze,” she tells me again, this time much more sincerely.

“It’s fine we’ve all done it. The boys back at the clubhouse shoulda known better.” Angry as I am, I decide to cut her some slack. Yeah, she’s got a lot to learn on taking instruction, and so do some of my members, but I can tell this girl’s been through a helluva lot.

“Not about that…” She shakes her head and lunges her head forward, chucking up the contents of her stomach in the gap between my legs.

“For that.” She blinks nervously when she looks back up at me.