2. Chapter 1
Knuckles – Twenty-Five Years Old
I chuckle before I spit a mouthful of blood into the ring as I slowly circle my opponent, who is eyeing me like I’m a predator despite getting a good fucking hook in.
He’s my fifth opponent this evening, and the first one to last more than three rounds. I fucking love it, I relish it, and honestly, fighting is the only time I fucking feel alive, the only time I can release the anger that burns deep inside me.
The ring is my baby, my legacy and even though it’s club run, I own it, my name is on all the paperwork.
I started it illegally, and when Chains found out because word got around how much money was earned, he looked into it. He didn’t know whether to praise me or be pissed at me for putting myself at risk, especially when his son, my fucking friend, went inside five fucking times.
His sweet sister was killed by his ex-fuck buddy, not long after we were patched into the club.
He missed her funeral because he got locked up after killing Toya, the ex-fuck buddy.
And after an intervention last year, he went nomad and was forced to wear his cut again.
After six months, he ended up in Rose Hill, three hours away from here, because of a woman he had fallen in love with and even knocked up.
His woman is the reason why he’s home, why he’s back to being our brother and president, and the fucker has finally allowed himself to heal.
He has a gorgeous baby girl who is eleven months old and a baby boy due any day…
“Come on then fucker, what are you waiting for? Don’t you want to hit an officer brother of the Carnage MC?” I goad, and the man whose name I cannot remember flares his nostrils, and I grin a bloody grin at him, enticing him to take the bait.
Becoming the enforcer wasn’t something that I wanted. After I beat up Striker, who now stays clear of me, I was hoping they’d boot me out of the club. Instead, I got put on fucking watch and forced to attend the local gym that was a dive but gave me a brilliant fucking idea.
I bought the place for a steal, and with the club's investment, I’ve renovated the place top to bottom.
I earn shit tons from this place, from the fights, and the club gets thirty percent, mainly because Chains managed to make the fights legit before that fucker Chief Marshalls locked me up.
The only downside is that my mother expects money from me every fucking day.
Her excuse is that she gave birth to and looked after me despite my failing her to get a patched brother.
The only fucking right thing she did was birth me. Everything else, I was a pest to her, her failure. I got locked in a fucking cabinet for hours on end because she didn’t want to deal with me. She hit me when I even spoke to her. Yet, she feels entitled…
My anger grows as it normally does when I think of my mother, just as the fucker charges at me, and my grin widens, probably making me look manic.
Let’s get some flesh hitting, shall we?
***
I slowly unwrap my sore knuckles an hour later, locking my jaw as my ribs pull.
It took four more rounds before I knocked that fucker out, and he got shit loads of jabs on me, but I enjoyed the pain, just like how I enjoy it now, the aftermath.
It’s fucking rare that I get someone that lasts that long, and the crowd fucking loves it, plus the money, fuck, yes.
Throwing the straps on the bench, I slowly stand and grab my shirt, quickly slipping it on, the pull on my ribs making me hiss, before I grab my cut but pause and I stare at the leather.
Cage didn’t want to be a brother, I know Blaze didn’t either, and I certainly don’t want to be a brother.
Yet here we all are being forced in the leather that at one point I thought having would make me feel different.
I thought it would make the brothers respect me, I thought I would come to love it, but instead, I resent it. I resent my father.
He was a part-time father who barely paid any attention to me, allowing a club bunny to treat me like a pest, and now, I’ve taken over his role within the club because he forced me to.
He threatened to try and take away my gym, my fight club and even though my name is all over the legal paperwork, the club has pull.
Shaking my head, I put the leather on and go to grab my straps, but groan when my phone rings.
“So much for giving me space today,” I grumble as I check the ID and see it’s Cage, who knew I was fighting today.
“Yeah?” I answer as I grab my straps.
“I know I don’t normally call when you’ve got a fight, but we have a problem,” Cage grunts, and I frown as I walk out of the changing room.
“What kind of problem?” I ask as I walk down the corridor towards the stairs.
“The kind where the Chargers have taken five orphaned kids from a field trip,” he replies, and I growl full of anger and pick up my speed as he confirms, “Crash is waiting outside the gym, and Blade was already near town for his club's fun run and will meet you when you find the kids and take the fuckers. Trick is going to guide you.”
I wince and ask, “Is he in the right frame of mind?”
He’s spent the past week keeping his distance from Clark, wanting her to believe he’s agreeing to the divorce. He plans to ambush her so she’ll listen and understand he has issues but wants to fight for their marriage, that she’s been his only one since they slept together.
Cage sighs, “This will help distract him…”
I sigh but murmur, “Alright,” knowing not to interfere, especially when I don’t want them interfering with my life, and I hang up and storm towards the back door where my bike is parked, ignoring the pull in my ribs.
***
“You’re okay,” I murmur to the six-year-old little girl and wrap a blanket around her shaking shoulders, and I grit my teeth, hoping she doesn’t see my fucking fury.
She has bruises on her head. The other four kids seem fine. But fuck, I’m pissed.
Trick managed to follow the Chargers all the way to a motel two hours outside of town where they were getting ready to change their vehicles.
When we barged inside the motel room, this sweet girl was bent over as one fucker was trying to examine the goods, as he explained.
But before he could lift her skirt, I fucking pounced.
The three men are tied up and on their way to Blade’s club and I’m livid. Even after fighting all evening, I’m still ready to kill and Blade gets that fun while we’re waiting for the fucking feds to show up and collect the kids.
While the chief of police hates our guts, one of his officers, a sergeant, is on our side and was waiting for Trick’s call and should be here any moment.
“I want to go home,” a little boy cries, and I lock eyes with Crash’s angry ones.
Dead, all of them are dead.
Last year, after we were all forced to put our property patches on by Chains, ready for when Cage came home, we found out the real reason why the Chargers had fought us.
They attack our women and any male wearing a cut—trafficking, fucking kid trafficking.
According to the Cartel, the fuckers are doing it on their own and now, the Cartel is after them as well.
As I said, all of them are fucking dead.
Flashing lights fill the night sky and I take a deep breath as Crash mutters, “Please don’t fucking hit a cop,” knowing I’m on edge.
I grunt a nonverbal ‘whatever’. I can’t fucking stand the cops, or more like Chief Marshalls, who has always fucking had it in for me.
That could have been because his son and I got into it in high school after he said shit about fucking my mother because, of course, everyone in school knew she was a whore.
Benny was a fucking prick at one point, but he’s mellowed a lot after he went into the police force. Now he comes to my gym nearly every day to train though his father hates it because I’ll always be the punk who beat up his son.
The fucker also hates the club and the love we get from the town. If something happens, it’s the club that gets the call, and the fucker despises it.
The cop car pulls up behind our bikes. Benny climbs out of the passenger side, and I give him a head nod in respect because, as I said, there is a cop on our side.
A female officer with dark brown hair tied in a neat bun climbs out of the driver’s side and frowns at the scene.
Her eyes take in everything while I take her in and my body fucking hums.
Fuck me, she is gorgeous and very fuckable with all those curves that women pay thousands to have that the uniform does not hide.
My heart races at the instant pull, and my body instantly tenses at my reaction towards her, and my anger deepens as hate instantly consumes me.
No fucking way, hell no…
Benny walks over and says, “Knuckles, Crash,” but I don’t take my eyes off his partner, even as the little girl latches onto my leg at the sight of Benny. I watch, entranced, especially as the woman softens, kneels before the girl, and her deep hazel eyes assess the girl's condition.
My stomach tightens, and I swallow the lump forming.
Fuck, fuck, fuck…
“Hi sweetheart,” the woman whispers, and I grit my teeth, her voice fucking doing something to me, something I refuse to happen, yet I don’t take my eyes off her, even feeling Crash’s eyes on me.
“Hi,” the little girl chokes.
“I’m Officer Marshalls, what’s your name?” the woman says, and I instantly tense and narrow my eyes.
Officer Marshalls, as in Chief Marshalls? His daughter? Benny’s sister?
Son of a…
“Laura,” the girl whispers, and I lock eyes with Crash, who watches me like a hawk, and flinches seeing my pain and anger. I can’t seem to hide my emotions from him, the reaction that she’s having on me making me want to hate her, to get on my bike and ride away.
“Okay, Laura, I’m going to take you back to Saints Crests. Is that okay?” Officer Marshalls says softly, and the little girl nods before letting go of me and holding out her hand to the woman. Gently the woman takes her hand and as she slowly stands, our eyes meet.
She flinches seeing my cold glare while I try my fucking hardest not to fall at her feet because fuck, her eyes have innocence all fucking over them.
Breaking eye contact, I look at Benny, who is frowning as he looks between us, and I state, “The kidnappers were already gone,” and he nods in understanding, while the woman pauses and commands, “How could they already have been gone?”
“Just like I said,” I reply curtly, and she narrows her eyes at me before looking at Crash, who hasn’t said anything, then looks at her brother.
“Dad won’t be happy with that,” she says firmly, like she understands what I mean by gone, and Benny shrugs.
“Dad needs to learn when to take a step back,” he replies with a snap, and his sister flinches at his tone while I swallow my growl. The woman turns and walks away, clearly pissed at her brother's reply.
“You’re going to have to ensure she doesn’t get the shit for that, Benny, she doesn’t deserve it,” Crash states, and I scowl at the way he’s looking at the woman.
Does he know her?
Have they fucked?
Wait, no, he’s in a relationship with Clark's best friend, Belle…
I shake my head as Benny mutters, “Don’t worry, I’ll fix it,” and I walk over to the other kids and say, “We’ll help you load up the kids in the van.”
“Knuckles?” Crash calls, but I put my hand up, and I grit, “Not now, brother,” not wanting to discuss the woman whose eyes I can feel on my back.
I don’t know why she has this effect on me, I haven’t met her before, and I don’t want to know why. As far as I’m concerned, after today, I won’t fucking see her again.
And there goes the drop in my stomach… Fuck.