Hell Bent (Royal Bastards MC, Montreal, Canada #1)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Mason ‘Vicious’ LaPointe rode his blood-red Harley through Montreal. The bike felt like part of him, part of what he was. The sheet metal was adorned with ghostly images of skulls stretching out in pain. Twelve-inch mini apes were his choice of handlebars. They weren’t normally seen on a Road King, but his bike wasn’t a normal Road King. After dragging it from a dark corner of a local bike shop, he rebuilt it specific to him. The engine was a custom 103. He could blow most bikes out of the water and often proved it.

Downshifting, he slowed as he came into town. The wind was picking up, crisscrossing the area. October brought with it occasional snow and rain, but tonight, it was just damn cold. He felt a definite drop in temperature since the sun had gone down. Dropping his hand next to the engine, he warmed it up as he slowly rolled down the street.

A woman walking down the sidewalk caught his attention. Her long, dark raven hair hung to her waist, swaying with her hips. He could imagine how all that wealth of silky length would feel wrapped in his hands. When she walked into an auto repair shop, Vicious shifted into a higher gear and rolled on.

Tonight, the Royal Bastards were having a friendly game of poker. Having a deep need to take money off one or more of his club brothers, Vicious headed for the clubhouse. Things had been tough for the Montreal chapter the last few years. Problems within the chapter itself caused the National President to step in and make a lot of changes. Even though the chapter had been around for more than a decade, Jameson could have shut them down. Instead, he brought in Bastien Cartier, better known as Teller.

Vicious had been voted in as VP, and Teller had gotten dropped in as President. Not much was known about their new Prez other than Jameson had handpicked the brother. And he hadn’t come alone. Blackjack and Double Tap were sent at the same time. No matter what any of the three men said, they knew each other longer than they were willing to admit.

Teller was much like Jameson in the sense both men kept things tight to the chest.

Things were starting to fall into place within the chapter. Still, there were moments he and Teller didn’t see eye to eye. They argued more than they got along. Maybe that’s why Jameson had sent Teller—he didn’t want a ‘yes’ man in charge.

Deep clouds blocked out the setting sun, making the evening chillier. Making his way through town, Vicious stuck to the side streets to avoid traffic. Old Montreal, especially Saint Paul Street between Marché Bonsecours and Saint Laurent Boulevard,was mostly pedestrians. You could walk anywhere within minutes.

Dark windows and empty streets signalled he had entered the backend of what was referred to as the Red-Light District. The area was home to cabarets, strip clubs, pool halls, bars, and multiple illegal businesses. A few streets down, he pulled up to the clubhouse. Backing his sled into an open spot, Vicious dropped the kickstand.

Tank, one of the prospects, walked up and let him know they had the bikes covered. Thanking the kid, Vicious climbed off his Harley and headed for the door. Walking into the clubhouse, he headed through the common area, passing leather sofas, cigar chairs, and poker tables.

Heading for the bar, he heard raised voices, alerting him that some of the other brothers had also arrived early. Player and Joker walked in talking shit about hockey teams. The two brothers were always arguing over nothing and everything. Pulling a bottle of Monkey Shoulder from the shelf, Vicious poured himself a stiff drink.

“Hey, man, don’t be stingy. Pour us a round.”

“Give me a beer back as well.”

Chuckling to himself, Vicious grabbed two more glasses and long necks from the cooler. Setting the round up, he poured the drinks and listened to the brothers carry on their discussion about which team was better. Vicious intervened before the conversation got too heated. “Who’s coming tonight for the poker game? ”

“Everyone’s coming to the clubhouse tonight. It’s a party, didn’t you hear?”

“Nope, didn’t get that memo.” So much for a poker game with a few of the brothers. Maybe a party was just what he needed.

Tossing back his scotch, Vicious enjoyed the heat of the liquor as it slid down his throat and settled into his gut. Pouring another round, he picked up his glass and headed to the poker table as a few more brothers entered from the back with their ol’ ladies, who were carrying food trays.

Flanked by Player and Joker, Vicious sat at one of the tables. He listened to the two laughing at the expense of a few of the clubs’ prospects who had been forced to clean the clubhouse wearing French maid uniforms. He didn’t know if it had been a challenge or a punishment. Either way, it was funny as hell.

Not being able to stop himself, Vicious joined in the laughing. If they didn’t want to endure hazing or challenges, they should have second-guessed joining a club. There were two ways these things went—one, the prospects would see it through, or two, they could step away from the club.

Even if the prospects chose not to remain part of the club, they could drop back to being a hangaround. At prospect level, they weren’t privy to anything pertinent to the club. Becoming a full patch took twelve months and committing a felony in front of a full patch member. If you wanted out, that was more complicated. It could happen, but it wasn’t the easiest thing to achieve without dying.

Since the chapter had been started, they had never voted anyone out, though Vicious couldn’t say they hadn’t had a few taken out. Those fuckers were buried in the Notre Dame Cemetery in crypts owned by the club. Owning crypts in multiple cemeteries made it easy to dispose of bodies. He often said they needed to buy a funeral home for the incinerator. For now, they shoved the bodies in coffins, held funerals, and buried them like any other person.

He thought he’d seen the prospects put through some funny shit before but having them become French maids was climbing to the top of his list quickly. Vicious tossed back a shot, and he almost spit the liquor out when one of the prospects walked over and dusted the table, sticking his ass in the air. Player roared with laughter at him.

“Get your fucking ass out my face.”

Player slapped him on the back. “It’s all in good fun, brother.”

Vicious shoved Player’s hand off his shoulder. “Are we playing cards or what?”

“In a hurry to lose your money, Vicious?”

“Big words, Joker. Let’s see you back them up.”

The cards were dealt and insults started getting tossed around immediately. Every hand that Vicious won just pissed off the other guys sitting in on the games. It wasn’t his fault he had a great poker face. Player tossed his cards on the table.

“I need another beer.” Player looked up in time to catch the eye of one of the girls sauntering past the bar. Signalling for her to bring a round to the table, he leaned back in his chair .

Looking up, Vicious saw Tea sauntering toward their table with another round of beers. When she set the bottles down, Player pulled her onto his lap. Joker gave the girl a wink, annoying Player, which was his goal. Vicious chuckled and watched as she turned around, putting her back to Player’s chest, straddling the brother’s lap. Leaning back, both Vicious and Joker got ready to watch the show. Stretching his long legs out, he crossed them at the ankles.

Tea rolled her hips, riding Player’s crotch. His hands gripped her waist, keeping her tight to him. When she looked over at Joker, Player grabbed her by the hair and turned her head where she faced him.

Joker chuckled as the girl kept her attention on Player. From his spot, Vicious watched as she started peeling off her leather top. Player shoved her forward and unzipped his jeans, pulling her back down onto his cock, and Tea moaned. Oh yeah, this was about to be a show.

Joker watched as Tea licked her lips, her hands squeezing her tits. Joker stood up and unzipped his pants. Sliding his hand down into his jeans, he pulled out his dick and stroked it so Tea could watch him. Player was fucking her pussy hard. Joker stepped between Tea and the poker table, grabbing her by the head and pushing her face down so she could suck him off.

Vicious glanced over, watching the show. His cock twitched, but he didn’t like sloppy seconds. Moving away from the table, he grabbed a bottle of scotch and went looking for Elea, another club girl. He found Kiki strapped to an old barber chair, legs spread wide, her hands stroking off two patch holders while another straddled her face and fucked her mouth. The way she squirmed in the chair, Vicious knew her pussy was needy. Still, he wasn’t interested.

Heading to his private room, he spotted Elea hanging out with one of the younger patch holders. “Private party?” Vicious asked. The brother looked at him and said no. That was because he knew the deal, which was if the VP wanted the pussy, he got the pussy. It was good to be high-ranking sometimes. Vicious could care less who she fucked after he was done with her, he just needed to knock the bottom out of her fucking cunt and get his nut.

A half-hour later, Vicious walked back into the common room and found a seat at the poker table. “Deal me in.” Movement across the room caught his attention. Zoe was behind the bar, bouncing to the music and flipping bottles as she poured shots of whisky for the brothers who were lined up. She knew how to entertain with or without using her mouth and pussy, and she was house mom, which meant she was responsible for the girls. According to her, she was Teller’s ol’ lady, though nothing had been officially stated by the Prez about her being off-limits. If she wasn’t careful, she’d be out on the streets with just the clothes on her back.

Vicious’s view was momentarily blocked as Wynn stepped into view. He was about to wave her off when she placed a bottle and four glasses on the table. “Zoe said to let her know if you need anything else, Teller.”

Vicious looked to his left as his Prez took a seat next to him. “Tell her I said to get her ass over here,” Teller told Wynn .

“Right away.”

Teller gave the girl a wink as she stepped away. Dragging the bottle to him, Vicious opened it and poured whisky into all four glasses. Sliding the glasses to the brothers, he noticed Teller kept Zoe in his line of sight. Maybe there was something between them.

The amber liquor was warm and inviting as Vicious sipped on it. Glancing across the room, he watched a couple brothers getting blowjobs from one of the local girls. At the same time, others were engaged in conversations. Dancers crawled across bar tops, and one female showed off her talents on a pole, entertaining a few brothers. Other girls who came for the party danced by the bar, gyrating to the music. There was always a variety of local females who attended the parties, looking to grab the attention of one or more members. Most of the girls were looking for a way out of a bad situation, and wearing a property patch meant protection for them.

Commotion by the pool table stopped Vicious from pouring himself another drink. It looked like Hemlock and Blackjack were arguing over yet another game. “You’d think those two would avoid playing pool with one another,” he said offhandedly.

“Those two live to fuck with each other.” Player laughed before tossing back another shot.

Vicious chuckled. “Just like you and Joker. The two of you bitch like you’re married.”

“Teller, where you been hiding?” Joker asked innocently as Player shook his head. It was the wrong thing for the brother to ask. Teller didn’t like being questioned about his comings and goings, especially with the mood he appeared to be in.

“Are you my fucking mother, Joker? Do I need to tell you when I go shit? When I fuck a woman? Do I need to give you my fucking bedtime?” Teller glared at the chapter’s Road Captain. What he did was his god damn business.

Everyone at the table buttoned their lips, except Vicious. “Teller, chill, brother. Joker was just making conversation.” Teller shoved out of the chair, sending it sailing across the floor.

Not one to cower, Vicious did the same, facing off with his Prez. If push came to shove, he’d have more backing than fucking Teller. Just because Jameson handpicked the man didn’t mean Vicious had to agree with it. “You wanna go at me?” Teller shouted at him.

There was no love lost between them and not enough mutual respect to keep either one from jumping. If Teller wanted it, Vicious would see it through. He’d rather not show the Prez up, but he’d been in the chapter since the start. Teller was still new to them and finding his way within the chapter. But after two years, he should have figured it out.

“No, but I’m not gonna stand by while you start fights with our brothers just because something’s crawled up your ass,” Vicious shouted back at Teller.

Teller glared at Vicious, his nostrils flaring as his fists clenched. The brother was right—he was picking a fight. He shouldn’t have come to the clubhouse, not being in the mood he was in. What he should have done was called his VP for a private sit-down. There was heat coming down on them about a missing person. Instead, he decided to handle it personally.

He needed to learn how to trust Vicious as Jameson suggested. It was just a hard thing for him to do. His life was one fucking knife in the back after another. Settling his bad mood, he unclenched his fists. Turning his head slightly from Vicious, he looked at the Road Captain. “Joker, sorry, brother.”

“No problem.”

When Teller turned back to Vicious, the two locked eyes. Both annoyed, neither was willing to break eye contact. Neither wanted to look weak in front of the other brothers or guests. Neither wanted to make the other look inferior. Putting out his hand, Teller waited to see if Vicious would take it. When he did, Teller pulled him in and slapped him on the back. “Don’t think this is settled,” Teller said firmly for only Vicious to hear.

“Next time, we won’t be in the middle of the clubhouse.” Vicious made sure Teller heard him before letting him go.

“Maybe you should drag Zoe to your room. I’ll cover the bar. Go get rid of whatever devil is riding you tonight,” Vicious suggested off-handedly. Cocking a look at Teller, he watched as the man decided his next move.

“Sounds like a better plan than whipping your big ass.” Teller chuckled as he walked toward the bar. Vicious knew the laugh, and the fact that Teller had let the confrontation go for the moment eased the tension in the room. He was certain Teller would come after him sooner or later. There was always retribution when you popped off at the Prez .

Following Teller, Vicious stepped behind the bar as Zoe grazed past him. Her tits pressed against his midsection as her hand brushed his crotch. The bitch did that to all the brothers, teasing and tempting them, then she’d tell them all she was Teller’s. But not once had they heard those words tumble from his mouth. One day, that shit might come back to haunt her beautiful ass, and he’d be in the front of the line to bend her over and fuck her tight ass.

Looking around, he hadn’t realized the clubhouse had gone silent when the shouting started. Signalling for everyone to mind their own business, things got cranked up again. Vicious looked toward the back hallway and caught Teller dragging Zoe behind him. Teller needed to trust him if the chapter had any chance in hell of making it. One man could not make it work.

“Vicious, can I get a fucking beer, or are you gonna stand there and pine after Teller?” Turning his head, he stared at Blackjack. The look he gave the brother had Blackjack holding up his hands in surrender. Reaching in the beer cooler, he tossed a bottle at the brother.

Looking around, he spotted the brother they referred to as The Baron because the youngster knew how to bartend. Waving him over, Vicious handed the bar over to him and walked out. He didn’t stop until he was straddling his sled. Tonight was not the night to be drinking. His mood was in the shitter, which sucked. Especially after getting his rocks off fucking Elea. The chick could take it like a pro. She just didn’t like playing with one man at a time, and he had a problem with sharing. Club girls weren’t girlfriends , he reminded himself. Girlfriends came with baggage, and baggage was trouble. Next time, he’d go find Wynn .

Firing up his bike, Vicious needed some wind in his face to clear his head from all the random thoughts. He didn’t make it to the street before two bikes eased up beside him. Joker and Player just stared straight ahead. Why the brothers thought he needed protecting, Vicious had no clue. Teller was the one who needed babysitting. The man’s moody disposition was going to get him into trouble one day. Shifting into gear, Vicious rolled out with Player and Joker on his six.