Chapter 7 #2
My dad and fellow founders weren’t angels.
They didn’t make this club what it was today with love and charity.
Sometimes, when you wanted to do some good, you needed to get your hands dirty with the bad.
And our sins ran deep. No one knew that better than me.
Trading in illegal firearms and selling weed to our own special circle of customers wasn’t exactly a tax-paying, nine-to-five job.
I always wondered if that was the reason behind my father’s decision to work with the police commissioner.
Maybe it was his way of atoning for all the wrong we did—that, and to keep the PC turning a blind eye to our business affairs.
When the old man died and I became president, I continued his legacy by doing the work we did.
Now, with this new threat over our heads as the Pythons kept closing in on our territory, we had no choice but to rethink all our shit and come up with a plan to ensure the wellbeing of the club.
But with this plan came a huge risk. If anything went wrong, we would risk losing our most important ally.
Yet if this all played out the way we planned, the reward would be far sweeter. For the club…and me.
Yeah. I was one selfish son of a bitch, and it was my own personal greed for something money couldn’t buy that gave birth to this plan of ours. And I knew any plan that entailed taking down the Pythons, my men would be on board with. It was a double-whammy.
The gym started to fill with people, and I took that as my cue to bounce. Crowds weren’t exactly my thing—especially troubled teenagers who’d rather come here in the morning than be at school where their asses should be.
Dutch came walking in, fists already wrapped, ready to fight. “Yo, Granite. You good?”
“Yup.” I wiped the sweat from my face.
“Wanna stick around and check out some of the talent we got here?”
“Nope.”
Dutch scowled at me. “The students know you run this place, Granite. They know you’re in charge, and they want to meet you.”
“Well, I don’t want to meet them.”
“Don’t be such a hard-ass.”
I snorted. “You can thank fuck I like you, or I’d have to kick your ass for dissing me like that.”
“I’m serious. You can’t always run from shit.”
My nostrils flared. “I’m not running.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
I brushed past him when he called out, “And the girl?”
Exhaling, I stopped but didn’t turn. “What about her?”
“You sure she’s just part of the plan, nothing more?”
“What the fuck do you mean?” I turned to face him.
He looked me in the eye without blinking. “I’m not stupid, Granite. I can see the connection.”
“What connection?” I hissed through my teeth, not liking where this conversation was heading.
Dutch kept my gaze. “She reminds you of someone…doesn’t she?”
“Do not.” I clenched my jaw and held up a finger. “Do not fucking go there, my friend.”
“I loved her too. But I don’t go around avoiding shit because of it.”
To walk away was the best option at that point. I’d hate for my anger to get the better of me. The topic of conversation was something that would make me do shit I’d regret, like planting my fist in Dutch’s face. So I walked.
“Yo, dude,” he called out. “Stop. I’m sorry, man.”
I stilled, wiping the towel down the side of my face.
“We’re all on edge. I just want to make sure you’re okay, and that your head is in the game.”
I snorted with sarcasm before turning to face him again. “My head is always in the game. You don’t have to question that.”
“I’m not. I’m just looking out for a friend.” Dutch looked over my shoulder toward the main entrance. “Ah, fuck.”
“What?” I glanced in the same direction.
“It’s that boy I told you about last week.”
“The one you suspect is getting his ass kicked back at home?”
“Yup. Look at his face.”
The scrawny teenager was wearing a black hoody, trying to hide the bruise on his cheek but doing a piss poor job at it. “What’s his name?”
“Trent.”
I placed my towel over my shoulder and called out, “Yo, Trent.”
The boy looked at me.
“Get your ass over here.”
Trent looked around him, behind him, then back at me as if he wasn’t sure I was talking to him.
“Yeah, you. Get over here.”
Trent slowly moved toward us, and it was painfully obvious the boy was scared as hell. But the closer he came, the clearer we saw the blue and black bruise that stretched all the way from his eye to the bottom of his nose.
“How’d you get that?” I pointed to his face.
“I…um—”
“Spit it out,” I warned.
“Please,” he started, “I don’t want trouble. I’m just here to learn how to fight.”
I crossed my arms. “You got someone you need to defend yourself against?”
The boy glanced around the gym, and Dutch stepped forward. “Take off the goddamn hoody, would you?”
Trent cautiously slipped the hoody from his head, and when I saw the blue bruises around his throat, clearly from someone’s hand, my rage started to simmer.
There was a lot of nasty shit I could tolerate, but child abuse wasn’t on the list. In my opinion, if you could beat up a kid, you could burn in your own personal corner in hell.
I glanced around the gym and noticed Ink standing by the back entrance. I moved closer, staring down at the boy. “Who the fuck did this to you, son?”
“Nobody.” His voice shook, the vein in his neck going apeshit.
“Do not lie to me, boy.” I wanted to shake the truth right out of him, but Dutch stepped in when he saw I was about to lose my shit.
“Trent, we can’t help if you don’t tell us what the hell is going on.”
“I don’t need help.” His jaw clenched, nostrils flared. It was a mix between anger and fear, something I knew a lot about.
Dutch reached out and grabbed the boy’s chin, turning his face to the side, scrutinizing the bruise. “Sure looks like you don’t need fucking help.”
“Listen,” I pulled the hairband from my wrist and tied my hair behind my neck, “if you want to get roughed up for the rest of your fucking life, be my guest, but let me tell you this. If you don’t do something about it now, the day you’re old enough to fuck off to who knows where, whoever is doing this to you will just find another innocent boy or girl to hurt.
So man up and tell us who the fuck it is.
You might just save another kid a whole lot of trauma. ”
Trent’s gaze dropped to the floor, and he crossed his arms with his shoulders slumped. “It’s my mom’s boyfriend.”
I held up my hand without turning then motioned for Ink to join us. “Give me a name.”
Trent rubbed his hands up and down his arms, still looking at the ground. “Joseph Hill. He works over at Bart’s Garage.”
Ink nodded. “On it.”
I placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Don’t ever let anyone hurt you, you understand me? No matter who the fuck it is, you fight back. You always fight back. No mercy. No surrender.”
With that, I turned and walked out. This was why I avoided the crowd in the gym.
Too many lost souls. Too much pain and too many problems. If I had my way, I’d fuck up every low-life scumbag who hurt children.
Like I said, we weren’t saints, and we played house with cruel motherfuckers.
But when it came to hurting children, I became a beast. If you fucked with the children on these streets, you fucked with me.
Out of the gym, I passed the outside courtyard that led to the bar.
It was like our own little compound. The gym.
The bar. And a few rooms upstairs from the bar, with a small living space and kitchen.
Most of the guys had their own houses and families to go to at the end of the night.
It was only Onyx, Dutch, Manic, Ink, and I who stayed here.
As far as we were concerned, the club was our life. We didn’t need anything else.
It was almost the end of autumn, and the early winter chill could already be felt in the air. Dutch’s piss-poor attempt at gardening was already ruined, winter not even in full bloom yet.
The door to the bar swung open as I entered, Onyx waiting for me inside.
“She won’t eat.” He crossed his arms.
“What did you give her?”
Onyx rolled his eyes. “I gave her a fucking salad just like you said.”
“Did she say anything?”
“Nothing. I went in, took the sandwich she didn’t eat, and placed the salad box on the bed. She didn’t even look up.”
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath before leaning back against the wall, lighting a cigarette.
I knew getting her to eat would probably be a challenge, but I didn’t come this far in life by cowering away from challenges—especially when it came to her.
Turned out she had a little bit more fight in her than I anticipated, but I was okay with that.
It made things…interesting, feeling both lust and anger when I looked at her. It was an explosive combination.
I blew out a cloud of smoke. “She needs to fucking eat.”
“The girl’s been kidnapped, Granite. I don’t blame her for not exactly having a fucking appetite.”
“As you’ve noticed, she can’t exactly afford not to eat.”
“Yeah. There’s not really reserves on her bones for a hunger strike.”
“Jesus.” Flipping the cigarette to the ground, I stomped on it on my way to the stairs. “I’ll deal with it. Take Manic and check in with our scouts. I want to know when the Pythons hear the news, and when to expect that goddamn phone call.”