Chapter five
A QUEEN TO BE…
SNAKE
OTW — Angel
“Alright, let’s get ready. Padre, bring our queen’s throne up and place it beside el Presidente’s.” After reading Angel’s text, in rapid-fire succession I snap orders to the rest of the crew and other riders on loan from other clubs for the celebration tonight.
“Angel should be here in fifteen minutes,” I tell Ellie, who’s pouring heavy into the glasses of some of the other cartel bosses in attendance.
“Aight.” She winks at me, showing she has her domain under control.
Tracking movements around the room, I take note of every el Diablo member, making sure they are stationed strategically throughout the clubhouse.
This is neutral territory. If anyone did dirt, they would be killed, and their entire club disbanded for acting dishonorably after being offered hospitality by a fellow MC.
That includes following our rules about our women having a choice in who they want to spend time with.
Unlike most of the other clubs, the women, hang-arounds and sweet butts alike, get to choose in el Diablo.
Still, I put nothing past some of these motherfuckers.
Some are of the same school of thought as Rudy and his ilk and have made no secret they’d like to deal with him.
Like Marco, the president of the Ghost Reapers, who seemed to be a little more than put off that Angel prevailed, if the mostly reliable network of informers we have in place is correct.
It got back to us the motherfucker even axed the messenger when he heard Rudy was put down.
I’m not surprised. The Ghost Reapers rule Miami and have a particular interest in the skin trade, which is something Angel and I both abhor.
El Diablo has made it clear in blood that we have a no women and kids policy. We won’t interfere with your business, but it is absolutely a FUCK NO for us.
Marco is a smooth operator and smart, but the rumor is he’d be more than happy with a change in command with el Diablo.
His being present is not to show his support of Angel de La Muerta, but to demonstrate he’s not in fear of him.
A fact not lost on either of us. Giving him a nod of acknowledgement and nothing more as he holds court at a table dead center of the club with a clear view of the stage as Angel commanded, so he witnesses the honor bestowed on Ezekiel-Jane with no filter.
I survey the rest of the men who will keep order and put in the necessary orders if needed.
“Aye.” Turning, I nod to Rocco, who is practically bristling in anticipation of what is to come. He’s in charge of Easy’s security.
“Ready?” I ask, already anticipating the curt nod. More than anyone, he takes this seriously.
“Yep.” His gaze tracks around the room, no different from mine had earlier. “Ghost Reapers, I don’t trust’em.”
“Hmph.” I grunt in agreement. We never deal with them outside of when our paths need to cross.
“What about the Panthers Outcasts out of Birmingham?” He nods to the group of nomads eyeing the Ghost Reapers with murder in their eyes.
“They are cool.” I assure Rocco, who quirks a skeptical eye.
“As long as none of the GR enter Birmingham, that is.” I qualify.
Several young girls went missing a couple of years back, and the trail led straight to the home of the Ghost Reapers.
A lot of blood was shed, but Obsidian Kane, the president, never could get hard evidence that it was an organized effort on the behalf of Marco and his crew.
Angel, I and the heads of the organizations sat down and called a truce, with the Ghost Reapers banned from entering either of our territories without our knowledge and permission.
“Now that dog Rudy has been put down, they won’t have anyone to hide behind if they are still into that trafficking shit.
” Rocco nods, but we still know nothing will stop something so lucrative.
Not everyone had the foresight to get into legitimate trade to supplement their income.
The Ghost Reapers have long been affiliated with the Savelle Syndicate.
Now that the Bastard Brothers led by Nikko Savelle, killed their father, and took over his cartel, those connections severed because they feel the same way as we do about exploiting women and kids — more so since their father sired them using girls he abducted.
“Marco is many things but stupid is not one of them. He knows better than to try that shit here.” Not bothering to give our guests any more attention, I focus on the little entourage that is supposed to help Easy when she arrives.
The twin-cousins are posted up by the door.
Saban is nowhere to be seen. She’s been spending more time with her bestie, Lourdes, and I can’t say I’m not happy about this.
I pushed her away, and she has more than let me know she’s got the message.
The morning after the rescue from the warehouse, there seems to have been a shift. She’s not cold or combative — just seems to have moved on.
Despite it feeling like my heart has been cleaved in two, I carry on respecting the new boundaries I placed between us.
She needs to have a life untouched by my darkness.
I need to break free of the obsession my little torment has become.
This girl has me fucked up five ways to Sunday, and I see no end to it unless she leaves me.
I already know I can’t push her out of my life. It has to be her choice.
Looking around the club and not seeing her tonight with the celebration about to be in full swing gives me hope.
In all these years she’s never missed a celebration, biker wedding, baby christening or anything of the like and after what she and Ezekiel-Jane went through, I’d have thought she’d be here to show her support and show everyone who had any doubts she not only survived what Rudy and his rogue crew tried to do but she survived while they are still finding pieces of those bitches in the river.
Sabrina, Ellie’s wife, is leading folks in a line dance, so I have to skirt around the perimeter of the club so no one tries to draw me onto the dance floor.
“Hey, handsome, what are you getting into after this? You know we’re sad since Angel is off the market.” Lorena smirks, giving me a wink.
“Hm, I’m sure you’ll have plenty of willing victims — ahem, I mean partners after tonight.” I wink back.
“Ohh, la serpiente is biting tonight.” Sara chuckles, wrapping her arm around her cousin’s shoulder. “You know where we are if you change your mind, Primo.”
Posting up beside them, I wait for Angel and Easy. No sooner than I cross my arms, giving them a stern look, does Angel stride in with his curvy little ball of fluff tucked into his side.
His gaze is fierce as he surveys all that is his domain. He misses none of the cartel bosses as he places a kiss on Easy’s crown before steering her towards the twins.
“Where’s Saban? Is she coming?” Lorena asks, gaze quizzical, knowing as I do that Saban has never missed one of these events.
“I don’t know.” Frowning at her eyes widening in response, I give her as much of a non-response hoping she’ll let it go.
“Ohhh, you fucked up this time for real.” Her look turns a little mean. “Good for her.” She sniffs in disdain, turning towards the other two women, taking the hallway way up to Angel’s loft.
“How’s everything been going?” Angel asks. I’m not sure if he’s preoccupied or deliberately ignoring the exchange.
“Everyone is acting respectful but I’m not sure if the Panthers Outcasts are going to let the Ghost Reapers out of the state alive.” I say for his ears alone.
“As long as it’s not on our territory, I don’t give a fuck.” He dead-eyes every man present as we stride toward the dais.
“Good work.” Admiring the much smaller version of his throne-like chair.
“Rocco is a master craftsman.” Agreeing, I take in the intricate designs carved into the wood.
Not only does the intricate pattern tell a story.
It is specific to how our new queen came into the fold.
She rises from the smoke and flames of the night she stumbled into the MC, being claimed by the very angel of death, who made her his own and now queen of all she surveys.
“Think she’ll like it?” To see a man such as this being concerned about someone he can dominate without a thought would be funny if his eyes didn’t burn so hot.
“I don’t know your woman that well, but she’d have to be blind not to.
” Clapping him on the back, I stand at his six.
We’ve had each other’s backs since we joined this MC together as teens.
We rose together and then got rid of Rudy’s father, who ran it at the time, and have been commanding it ever since.
We can go from wearing our corporate suits to our MC cuts, shedding our rough exterior for more posh settings.
The thing guys like Ruddy never get is you have to adapt and overcome no matter the circumstances and realize that your life has a higher calling than just the road or the street if you’re ever going to build a legacy.
It’s not my place to educate those navel-gazing knuckle-draggers but to annihilate them so they don’t pollute our people with their backward thinking.
Music thumping, bodies swerving to beats ranging from American hip-hop to Afro-Colombian beats makes the atmosphere sexy and euphoric.
“There she is.” I nod toward the hall entrance of the club I’ve been watching. The cute little cherub has been transformed into an equally sexy little vixen in all white with a buttercup yellow corset. Flanked by Rocco and Padre Ezekiel-Jane begins her walk through the throng of dancers.
Rising like a fallen prince from the depths of hell, Angel stands before his throne. Dancers part without a word as he goes to meet her in the sea of gyration.
Padre and Rocco fall back as Angel takes his bride, bringing her forward in the crowd until they stand before me on the dais.