Chapter 8 Havoc
HAVOC
It’s a muggy night, and sweat slides down the side of my neck, dampening my collar. My bike’s hot between my thighs, making it worse. Irritated, I adjust the red demon mask that covers my face. No patches tonight—we’re staying as anonymous as we can.
We’re waiting for the truck carrying our weapons, and my mind should be on the job at hand.
Instead, it keeps going somewhere it shouldn’t.
To how Sasha felt wrapped around me on the back of my bike.
To how she reacted to being pressed against me as the engine rumbled between her legs.
The look on her face when I pulled off her helmet—flushed cheeks, blown pupils.
Don’t know what turns me on more, how fucking mortified she was or the fact that she’s perfect for me. My innocent little princess, getting off from riding a bike.
Fuck.
Now I’m fucking hard when bullets are about to fly.
“You with us, Prez?” Diesel murmurs from my side.
“Yeah,” I grunt, shifting in my seat. The bike’s engine ticks as it cools.
“Hey, is that a new Desert Eagle in your pants or are you happy to be here with us?” he continues, his voice forcefully casual. Ace and Ryder snicker in formation behind us.
“Shut up,” I grumble.
Diesel sighs. After a minute of silence, just as I think he’s dropped it, he opens his mouth again. “Just do it, man.”
“Do what?” I say through clenched teeth.
“Make the kid your old lady. Everyone sees there’s something between you two.”
“I haven’t touched her,” I say, defending myself automatically.
“But if you had,” Ace says quietly, butting into the conversation, “it’d be okay with us, you know? She’s legal. She’s family.”
I turn my head to see Ryder nodding along, though there’s a tension in the set of his shoulders.
“Tank and Bone’ll kill me,” I say simply. “She’s Vike’s daughter, and I’m twenty-six years older than her, for fuck’s sake. Cradle robbin’.”
Diesel shakes his head, the demon mask shifting grotesquely in the shadows. “She’s not gonna be some sweetbutt passed around. You’re different with her.”
I check my phone, the screen blinding me in the darkness.
Where’s the damn truck?
“We’re not here for a therapy session,” I say decisively, putting an end to the topic. Or so I thought.
“Wonder if she’s a virgin,” Ryder muses quietly.
For a moment, I freeze, thinking I must have misheard. Then I realize the dumb shit actually said what he said and turn around as much as I can on my bike.
“What the fuck?” I roar, my breath hot where it’s trapped inside the mask. “Shut your fucking mouth about her!”
Ryder brings his hands up. “I’m just saying… She has that untouched look, you know? So innocent.”
I’m halfway off my bike, seeing red, when Diesel grabs me. “Kill him later, brother. It’s showtime.”
My burner’s vibrating in my hand, the cheap plastic creaking in my grip. I take a deep breath and point a finger at Ryder.
“You even think about her being touched or untouched again, and I’ll bash your head in with your own fucking bike. She’s mine. We clear?”
“Crystal clear, Prez,” Ryder snickers.
And I realize I’ve fallen into his trap.
“Fuck,” I growl, bringing my ride back to life with an aggressive kick. Then louder, “Let’s get this over so we can go home.”
The truck comes barreling around the curve right on schedule, the low rumble of the engine like rolling thunder. Headlights beam in our direction, washing everything in white. It’s followed by the escort vehicle, a dangerous shadow.
I don’t have to call out for us to slide into position, just like we planned. The truck brakes hard, tires squealing louder than the engines, and men spill out of both vehicles, armed and ready for opportunists like us.
My world narrows into focus. Like back overseas. I raise my gun just as Reaper, Bullet, Riot, and Viper close in behind the escort. The military personnel guarding the weapons shout in alarm as they realize they’re completely surrounded.
“You’ll want to put your guns down and get on the ground,” I call out calmly. This cold focus is why Viking trusted me with the gavel. My job is making sure this ends with no casualties on our side.
“Fuck you! Redneck scum!”
The angry motherfucker raises his gun to shoot at me, but Riot’s faster, blowing his head off before the rest of them follow his dumb example.
“No one move unless you want me to paint the asphalt with your brains too, assholes!” Riot yells. One by one, the armed guards throw their weapons away and get on the ground.
“That’s what I wanna see,” Viper says gleefully. “Good dogs.”
I don’t join in with the threats and insults. I’ve done it all already. Instead, I walk to the truck and pull open the driver’s side door.
“Get out and get down,” I tell the driver, not bothering to raise my voice.
“Time for some night-night,” Ryder snickers, pulling out the tranquilizer gun. The grunts don’t struggle much—maybe because they know we wouldn’t bother to tranq them if we were going to kill them.
“Shame about the asshole who felt like putting up a fight,” Diesel mutters.
I cross my arms and look down at the body. “Yeah.”
What else can I say? I doubt he was getting paid enough to die for these guns. Or more of them would’ve resisted. Probably just an idiot. Now a dead idiot.
“Prez? They’re out.”
I nod at Riot and pull my phone out to get Trig and Gun here with the mixer. I want to get the fuck home.
Maybe Sasha’s still awake? No… why would she be… Between her coursework, Bluebell moving to the compound, and Eli Redbird coming over to teach her how to ride, she’s exhausted.
“You’re thinking about her again, aren’t you?” Diesel asks.
I blow air out of my nose. “No.” Yes. “And when have you become such a motherfucking pussy? We gonna braid each other’s hair next?”
“Who’s braiding whose hair?” Viper asks. His face is still behind his demon mask, but I can tell from his tone that he’s genuinely confused. And that just makes Diesel laugh harder.
“No one’s fuckin’ takin’ this seriously,” Riot mutters to himself.
Just then, the Slade Construction cement mixer rolls up, country music blaring from the lowered windows.
“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” I rumble. “Maybe that dead asshole was right. We are rednecks.”
We carefully load the weapons, then send Trigger and Gunner off to Kentucky and the buyers. We’ll be flush for months after this, able to focus on other things.
Like Sasha?
Shit.
Maybe I’m the fucking pussy here and shouldn’t be throwing stones.
“Let’s get home, boys,” I say to my brothers, already striding back to my ride.
“Hang on,” Ace says, jogging to the truck. “Hazard lights,” he adds when he gets out.
Riot snorts. “You don’t fucking say? That’s what that blinking is?”
“Just don’t want these guys getting run over, you know?” Ace explains, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Genuine Mother Teresa,” Bullet mutters.
“Heard she was a bitch, actually,” Reaper throws in.
I shake my head and straddle my bike, not feeling the need to add to the conversation. In seconds, we’re back on the road, the breeze finally cooling me off.
It’s quiet back at the clubhouse, with most of the brothers working tonight’s run in one way or another. A few hangarounds and tired-looking club girls sit at the bar, their eyes going to us as soon as we enter. Looking for a target.
“We need some fresh blood here,” Viper says sadly. “These bitches have taken so many turns they’re practically hollow.”
Bullet clicks his tongue. “Didn’t need that visual, asshole.”
“I’m just sayin’, if we don’t get some new pussy in, we’re likely to start fucking each other.”
“Shut up, Viper,” Ace mutters. “We don’t need strange pussy here on a night like tonight. Poking their noses in club business.”
Diesel chuckles. “You’re just still bitter that the blue-haired reporter chick didn’t succumb to your lacking charms last year.”
“She was only after a story!” Ace bitches, dragging himself to a barstool.
“That and our coke, brother,” Ryder snickers, slapping him on the back.
I wave at them and turn to the hallway leading to my bedroom. “Good job tonight.”
“Already pussy-whipped,” Diesel calls after me. I flip him off over my shoulder, even though my feet are leading me right to Sasha’s door.
There’s no light coming through the crack at the bottom. I carefully test the doorknob—unlocked. Did she leave it like that hoping I’d come in?
Why would she want an old man like you, Jenson?
My conscience, or whatever the fuck this nagging voice is, needs to take a motherfucking hike.
Slowly, I push the door open until the shaft of light falls over her sleeping form.
There she is. Sweet. Innocent. And she calls to me like a siren.
I grit my teeth. Tomorrow, we’re having a cookout to celebrate a successful run. And I’m going to need to decide once and for all if I’m going to lose myself in random pussy to try and forget about her… or make her mine and put her in even more danger than she already is.