Diablo (Satan’s Warriors MC, NorCal Chapter #3)

Prologue Diablo

It’s the middle of the week, and the clubhouse is full of hangarounds. I need to make it fucking clear that they’re only welcome on Friday.

Motherfuckers!

I take a pull of my beer, looking at the fools through the mirror behind the bar. They want to prospect, but I don’t think the bastards fit in the MC; they don’t have the grit. The MC is no joke and not for the weak. Those fuckers are weak.

The music is blasting, and the bass vibrates at my feet. The club whores are with the Brothers doing their thing.

Then one of the Brothers loses his shit and smashes the hangaround Bill with the pool stick on the back.

Fuck!

“Crazy, son of bitch, don’t kill the asshat,” I shout, pushing off the bar stool, pulling out my Glock, taking long strides to stop the fight. “Grab the hangaround!”

The Brothers grab the asshat, and Crazy stands holding the broken pool stick, red face, scowling, and fuming.

Yeah, he’s a crazy motherfucker.

The Brother is our older Brother, old school, hard, need I say crazy. A badass biker that takes no shit, and he’s a mean fucker, so I know that the stupid hangaround said something stupid.

My Brothers are behind me; yeah, they have my back, and I have theirs.

I stop next to Crazy, gathering my brows.

“What the fuck? You can’t kill the fucker, Crazy,” I hiss, grinding my molars.

As the fucking VP, I have to stop this shit. I don’t want the fuckers to go rogue on the MC.

“VP, the fucker had the balls to disrespect me!

He called me a fat pig, stupid bitch! The fucker is going to die,” Crazy hisses, pulling out his Glock.

I move, placing my Glock on his head, shaking my head.

“Crazy, calm the fuck down. This is what we’re going to do. You have a minute to kick his ass, and then we’ll throw him out of the clubhouse because we don’t need the po-po up our ass over this skinny motherfucker,” I hum, raising my brow.

“Fuck! VP, let me have at him,” Crazy hisses.

“Give me your Glock,” I say, moving my fingers to hand it over.

Crazy places his Glock on my hand and cracks his knuckles.

“Fiend, hold Crazy’s Glock,” I say, handing him the gun.

“Right,” Fiend hums, taking the gun and moving his head up and down.

“Now, let me turn on the timer.”

I pull out my cell from the inside pocket of my cut, sliding my finger over the screen. I tap on the screen to get the stopwatch and look at the Brother.

“Wait! I want to apologize, don’t kill me,” Bill yells.

“You damn retard! You don’t get to insult the Brothers and apologize. Don’t ever show your skinny ass in here again because next time, I might kill you,” I hiss, lowering my eyelids.

“You can’t do that,” Bill yells, bopping his head as he tries to get away from the Brothers.

“I can do whatever the fuck I want, motherfucker!”

“What’s going on,” Demon yells, taking long strides across the room.

Demon stops next to me, resting his hands on his waist, looking at Crazy and the asshat.

“Prez, this stupid fucker disrespected Crazy, so Crazy has a minute to kick his ass,” I hum, raising my brow.

“Is that right? Fuck! Crazy, don’t kill him,” Demon hums, crossing his arms and spreading his legs.

“You’re fucking stupid coming in here with your fucking attitude! Listen up! Every son of bitch that wants to hang around at the clubhouse is only welcome on Friday nights! Period! Don’t fucking be stupid,” I hiss, looking around the room.

“That’s right, don’t fucking forget it! We don’t have fucking time to babysit you, so you’re not allowed to hang around the clubhouse! Only Friday night,” Demon yells.

“That stupid biker can’t kill me in a minute,” Bill huffs, rolling his eyes.

“You’re a fucking stupid fucker that doesn’t know when to shut his trap. You’re lucky that I’m not allowing Crazy to kill you because a minute is plenty,” I hiss, walking up to the asshat.

“Let’s get this over and kick out the hangarounds,” Demon grunts, rocking on his heels.

“Crazy, go at him,” I say, pressing the timer.

Crazy takes a couple of steps and grabs Bill by his long red hair. Crazy head-butts him and swings his big beefy fist, smashing Bill’s nose and knocking him out. Bill drops to the floor, and Crazy kicks him in his side a few times.

“Stop,” I yell.

The Brothers pull Crazy back, holding onto him.

“Crazy, you broke his nose and ribs,” Demon hums, looking at the asshat.

“Yeah, it felt good,” Crazy grunts.

“I bet! Now get the motherfucker out of here! All of you out,” I yell, snapping my fingers and looking at the rest of the hangarounds.

The other six hang-arounds run out of the clubhouse, and the Brothers carry Bill out. I know that they will throw him into his car and drive his ass far from here.

“Great call! I’m tired of seeing the fuckers here every night,” Demon hums, scrubbing his face.

“Damn straight! I need a cigarette,” I hum, walking to the bar.

Next day.

I walk into the Chapel for Church and head over to my black leather chair next to the Prez, fall onto the chair, lean back, and hold onto the armrests. I lower my eyelids, looking around the room at the Brothers.

“Listen up,” Demon yells, banging the gavel on the wood board. He holds onto the gavel, turning it in his hands.

The Brothers stop their chatter and look at the Prez. I rub my beard, waiting for the bomb to drop.

“Brothers, we have a mystery, more or less. I have a letter from a new MC in Vegas. The Prez wants to patch over, but he’s claiming that his father was one of the original Satan Warriors. He doesn’t know who, so we need to get him and his MC to visit us,” Demon hums, leaning his arms on the table and raising his brow to look at the brothers.

“That’s bullshit because Grizzly didn’t fuck around on Mama Bear,” Killer growls, slamming his fist on the table.

Killer is my blood brother, a year younger than me. Grizzly is our father, in the pen for life. Long story short, he killed the Wicked Warriors VP in retaliation for the Wicked Warriors Prez Crash killing our Prez. That’s why Demon and I stepped into our positions so soon.

Mama Bear is my mom. She has cooked for the MC since forever, when she became Dad’s Old Lady. She also takes care of feeding the Brothers.

“Calm the fuck down! We will have to take some DNA tests,” I huff, crossing my arms.

“Fuck! We might have a brother,” Lethal hums, rubbing his beard.

“Yeah, and a sister since he’s a twin. It appears that his Mom spent time with the Satan Warrior Brother and took off without telling him about the pregnancy. She didn’t give him a lot of details. His Mom couldn’t raise both kids, so she gave his sister up for adoption. Now he wants help to look for her and to patch over into the Satan Warriors MC since he’s a Satan Warrior brat,” Demon scoffs, sitting back in his chair and running his fingers through his short hair.

“Fucker is the Prez of the Cutthroat MC in Vegas; it’s a new MC that he established. He wants to patch over, and it’s not a bad idea to have a chapter in Vegas. But we need to vet them and do the DNA,” I hum, tapping my fingers on the table.

“Spy, look into the Cutthroat MC in Vegas and all of the members. As soon as we have more details on the sister, we will look into her,” Prez hums nodding.

“Will do,” Spy says, tapping into the tablet.

“I’ll extend the invite to the Cutthroat MC when we’re ready. Slash, I want you to be ready to take the DNA tests,” Demon says, leaning back in his chair.

“Will do,” Slash hums, nodding.

He’s the MC’s Doctor and was trained in the Marines. He’s damn good, and we provide everything he needs.

“We have a run to make, and it’s the first one dealing with the Italian Mafia, Capo Mazza. I want you to be alert. Mazza has a questionable record, such as treacherousness. But the Capo is paying good money for the guns and AK-15, and his Don Sica is backing it,” Demon says, grabbing the gavel.

“So, I’ll be texting the Brothers that will be on this run. I want the shipment ready,” I say, crossing my arms.

“Church is over! Satan Warriors power,” Demon yells, hitting the gavel on the wood.

The Brothers yell.

“Riding till we die!”

I grab my cigarettes from the inside pocket of my Cut, pull one out, and light up. I take a drag of the cigarette, inhale deeply, and release the smoke. I stare at the Brothers moving the crates to the cage, the MC’s black van.

“Hurry up! We need to search the area.”

The Brothers move quickly and finish moving the crates.

“Done,” Viper says, standing next to me.

“Fuckingtastic. Let’s get gone.”

I throw my cigarette on the ground, stomping it out. I lift my chin when my Brothers Fiend, Menace, Sin, and Viper get into the cage. Maniac, Lethal, Shadow, and I get on our bikes. We pull onto the road, heading down the back roads to the exchange location. We’re a few minutes early, and we check it out. It looks clear; the sound of the cars on the freeway covers any sounds that we make. The underpass is dark, and trees surround the area. It's a good place for the exchange.

A few minutes later, a black car drives down, followed by an SUV, parking next to the cage. A tall man gets out of the car, pulling at his white shirt cuffs. He’s wearing a suit and fancy black shoes.

It must be Mazza.

Fucking penguin strutting around. His men get out of the SUV, standing behind him. Mazza walks over and stands in front of us.

“Mazza,” I hum.

“Diablo, let’s get this done,” Mazza hisses, lifting his chin.

“The money.”

“Ammo.”

“Check it out,” I hum.

We spread out with our Glocks, ready to kill the fucker. We watch Mazza walk to the cage.

Viper opens the cage's back doors and steps back. Mazza opens the crates and looks at the ammo.

Mazza raises his hand, and a tall, heavy man in a black suit walks up with the black bag.

My Brothers Fiend and Shadow grab the bag and start counting. It takes a few minutes to count the scratch.

“All good,” Shadow grunts.

“Mazza, grab your ammo,” I hiss.

When Mazza waves his hand, his men walk over and take the crates to the SUV. It takes them a few minutes to finish.

“Later,” Mazza hums.

“Right.”