Chapter 4
JOEL
Iwoke up in a run-down warehouse, handcuffed to the rusted metal rails of a staircase, with rats running around like they were the only tenants in the past fifty years.
My head was pounding, and my mouth was drier than the desert I ran around in on my last deployment. I shook my legs in an effort to move the rats away, but they just blinked their beady little black eyes at me.
Something slammed open at the top of the stairs, and I wrenched my neck to look up, but all I saw was a silhouette in the bright light coming through the doorway. Loud music and chatter filled the room until the door closed behind Vincenzo and another name I’d never seen before.
“You fucking dick.” I glare at the man I used to call a friend.
“Hey, you weren’t supposed to be there.” I pulled at the cuffs, praying the metal would give, but goddamn, they were stronger than they looked.
“Oh, that makes it better! Tell me, did you send me to Freddy for that job, hoping I’d turn a blind eye to your criminal activity on my fucking docks?
You trafficking women now? Is that the legacy the great Lombardi family is gonna go by now?
Maddy must be rolling in her grave!” I spit in his face, and then I have no way of blocking the right hook he gives me.
“Don’t you ever bring my grandma into this! I don’t fucking traffic women. We were there to set them free before the assholes who took them showed up. If you wanna look at anybody’s family sideways, you better start looking at your own.” Hitting me again would have hurt less.
“What?” I shake my head as my legs give out.
If I didn’t have a concussion before, I think I might now. The room is spinning, and my ears are ringing as his words echo through my poor brain.
“Your father was taking bribes to look the other way. Every few months, an extra container showed up along with a few grand in his account. We ain’t sure if he knew what was inside, but Freddy did and still kept doing it.” The stranger talks to me in a careful tone, and I look at him as I sway.
“Who the fuck are you?” My words are slurring, and I know I’ve got about two minutes before I pass out again.
“That’s up to you. Right now, I’m your jailor, jury, and executioner if need be. However, if you’re wise, you’ll call me President.” Ok, how did this turn political?
“Listen, I’ve taken two blows to my head, so pretend I’m stupid and dumb it down, buddy.” I glare at Vincezo because I’m in this mess ‘cause of him.
“Name’s Jameson, National President of the Royal Bastards’ Motorcycle Club. And this here is your interview for recruitment.” I try to stand and reluctantly accept Vincenzo’s help to do so.
“What if I don’t want to be in your little gang?” Jameson snorts.
“I’m sorry, I thought I made myself clear before.
I wasn’t giving you the choice to say no.
You’re taking the job because, in order to stop the assholes bringing in these girls, I need the docks under our control.
Your other option is a bullet in the head so that I can put Twister here in your place. ” Who?
“So I say yes, I keep breathing? Then what?” Jameson grins as if he’s won already.
He produces a key and undoes the cuffs.
“You keep your job, life, cozy little beach house, plus you run this new clubhouse for me. Twister here has vouched for you, and your military record speaks for itself. You’ve got a problem with authority, though, so you’ll be running the Philadelphia Chapter.
I can tell when a man has a broken moral compass.
Yours don’t point true north, but you’ll do what it takes for the right reasons.
” I rub my wrists as this stranger breaks down my character like he’s known me all his life.
“President?” Jameson nods.
“Who’s he?” I point at Vincenzo.
“Twister? He’s your Vice President.” Oh good.
I swing wide and nail the fucker in the nose. I feel the cartilage break and blood splatter all over my fist. I sway into the wall, my body giving out, and the last thing I remember is Jameson laughing with his arms crossed over his chest while he watches my body slide down the wall.
“You’ll do Cable.”
I wonder how he found out about my nickname on the boats as I passed out again.
Present Day
“I’ve got to stop ending up on the floor like this,” I mutter as I lift my sorry ass up and sit at the kitchen counter gingerly so as not to upset my balls, which have just resurfaced.
“YO!” I grind my teeth as my front door slams shut.
“We came to pay our respects.” I turn slightly and see Twister, Tank, and Bars walking down my hallway.
They’re all wearing their cuts, but under them are dress pants and shirts.
“You fools clean up nicely. Were you at the cemetery?” Tank nods and heads straight for the leftover food.
“We stayed in the back.” I thought I had heard the distant sound of Harleys but had been too out of it to care.
“Thank you. You’re all in time to help clean up.” I point at Twister.
“You in my office.” I carefully get off the stool and walk past him.
“You alright, Prez? You’re walking like you got a stick up your ass.” Bars calls out, and I flip him off.
“My girl kicked in the balls before she left.” Fuck, why did I say that?
“Your girl?” Twister gets this crazed look in his eyes, and Tank whistles while double fisting two chicken legs.
“Don’t read too much into it. It’s a developing situation.” I open the office door and walk in, leaving them wondering ‘cause I am not adding anything else for them to rip me apart with.
Twister walks in and shuts the door with a little grin.
“Is she the one?” His eyebrows waggle at me, and I groan.
“Enzo, my balls hurt, my ego is bruised, and I just said goodbye to my Gran for the last time. I don’t have the bandwidth to deal with your brand of stupid today. How are my docks?” He frowns and sits across from me at my desk.
“Fine, boss. No unusual activity. We have it handled.” I nod and run my hands through my hair.
“Civilian life was supposed to be less stressful.” He laughs at me.
“Another lie the military sold, yeah.” I nod and smile.
“Facts. Okay, so how’s the clubhouse build going?” I see a flicker of something I don’t like in his eyes.
“The code inspector was out again. They’re gonna red tag us if we don’t add an ADA ramp.
” I want to laugh at the fact that the code inspector is making a motorcycle clubhouse put in a handicap ramp and parking area because we’re zoned as a social club, but the law is the law, and we might one day have need of it.
“Do it. He’s just trying to legally shut us down for no fucking reason.” Twister nods and pulls out his phone to text the contractor.
“Knock, knock. Kitchen’s clean, Prez. You want the trash outside?” Tank asks while Bars yells from the kitchen.
“Can we take the leftovers for the guys?” I sigh and nod.
“I ain’t eating all that. Take it all. I’m heading back tonight anyway. My gut says we’re going to have another container soon.”