Chapter 3 Vapor
The clubhouse is less than five minutes by bike from the heart of the French Quarter. The narrow, shotgun-style house is typical of the area. Tonight, it’s alive with the roar of engines and the heavy bass of rock music. Motorcycles line the street, their chrome gleaming under the moonlight.
The house, painted a faded shade of blue with a weathered front porch, is packed with members of the club, their leather vests adorned with Underground Vengeance MC patches and other emblems commemorating past rides.
A couple of guys jerk their heads in acknowledgement as I pass. Several men can’t see past the tits in their faces, so they don’t respond to my presence. Can’t really blame them. All that pussy makes it hard to concentrate on anything else.
Vicki the Hickey’s grinding on Tank’s lap, putting on a show for all the other club girls who want to bag a patched member. She’s a smokin’ hot piece of ass, but no one but Tank fucks with her. She’s his, even if he doesn’t know it yet. One day he’ll figure it out.
Tank’s our newest patched member. At twenty-two years old, he’s the youngest, but he knows his way around bikes. He’s the best goddamn mechanic I’ve ever seen. The kid’s got a gift, which is why we let him prospect as soon as he was old enough.
A couple of girls glance my way before grinning. Most of the club girls aspire to becoming someone’s old lady, but none of us have fallen for any of them. They may be fun to fuck, but I’d never wife one. I’m not looking to be tied down, unless one of the kinkier bitches wants to get crazy. That’s when we get those Japanese sex ropes involved.
I park my bike behind the clubhouse in my designated spot. Being president of the club has more than a few benefits. Front row parking’s one of them.
The back porch is teaming with club members and more pussy. Everyone’s gathered around the grill where Bones, our Sergeant at Arms, holds court. He’s a tall dude, towering over most of the guys and all the bitches. His skin’s a deep shade of bronze from being outside all the time. Chicks dig his rugged, angular features as well as his thick dark hair, or so I’ve overheard. These bitches talk about that shit all the time. Apparently, they can’t get enough of his dick.
“Vapor! Git yer ass over here! Burgers ’bout ready,” Bones calls in a thick, Louisiana drawl.
“In a minute. Got to have a quick word with Ice.” The smell of sizzling meat mixes with the steamy summer air, wafting into the house behind me.
Inside, the party’s in full swing. Conversations range from loud and boisterous to hushed and intense, camaraderie evident in every interaction. The party’s a testament to the wild, unrestrained spirit of the club. Tonight was supposed to be a night of freedom and revelry. Not anymore. Now we’ve got a problem.
The living room, barely lit by a mix of neon signs and dim lightbulbs, is filled with the scent of gasoline, sweat, and alcohol. Laughter and shouts fill the air as members clink beer bottles and throw back shots.
Among the crowd, sexy club girls gyrate to the beat of the music. Their outfits are a mix of tight leather and lace, drawing the eyes of everyone in the room. They dance provocatively, swaying in time with the heavy beat.
Other girls lean against the bar, engaging in playful banter and flirting with the club members. The women, just as bold and fierce as the men, fit seamlessly into the wild atmosphere, their laughter and seductive glances adding to the electrifying energy of the night.
I find Ice, the VP of the club, motorboating a busty redhead on the couch. His long, platinum hair and piercing silver-blue eyes, along with a deep, hypnotic voice, makes me half-wonder if he’s secretly a vampire. Pretty sure that supernatural shit doesn’t exist, but you never know. I’ve seen some weird stuff, like when the men from the Montana chapter were staying with us. Those guys have some really strange abilities, but they’re our mother chapter, so I try not to think about it too much.
As soon as Ice pulls his face out of the girl’s tits long enough to take a breath, I catch his eye.
“Got a second?” I jerk my head toward the door to the library where we hold Church.
“Hey, Pres.” He pushes the girl to the side, giving her ass a pat before hoisting his 6’1” frame up. He follows me down the hall. As soon as I close the door behind us, he turns to me. “How’d the meeting with Broussard go?”
“You’re gonna need to sit down for this.” I pull the napkin out of my pocket and slide it across the conference room table.
I glance around the room while waiting for his reaction. A series of mint green bookshelves line the walls. In addition to books, a variety of knickknacks decorate the shelves. One section is filled with Bones’ collection of creepy dolls. A tiny ceramic clown dressed in New Orleans Saints colors sits in the center of the dolls. Sometimes I swear those fucking things move when we’re not looking.
On another shelf, a steamboat trinket box and a wooden toy mandolin share the space. A shrunken head props up a large, leather-bound book. I’m still not sure if it’s fake or not. I really don’t want to know where Bones got it. Sometimes it’s better to be kept in the dark.
Mardi Gras beads dangle from an altar in the corner by the window. The sacred space contains everything from a two-foot-tall statue of the Virgin Mary to an unopened bottle of spiced rum to a voodoo doll. Dollar bills and loose change are strewn across the shiny red altar cloth. Partially melted candles in glass jars add extra color to the space. It’s all Bones’ shit, so the rest of us don’t touch it.
“Save them! Black Snake Bayou. Midnight,” Ice reads, frowning. “What’s it mean?”
“Not sure.”
“Broussard gave it to you?”
“No. His fiancé did.”
“That hot redhead? Blue?” Ice arches an almost white brow.
“She slipped it to me when I was heading out.”
“Didn’t give you any clues?”
“Not a word.”
“Shit, it could mean anything.”
“We got a location and a time.”
“But not a damn thing else. It could be a trap.”
“Broussard agreed to launder for the club.”
“After one meeting?”
“I think he researched us as much as we researched him.” I tap my fingers on the table. “My gut says we should check it out.”
“I hate to agree because this is sus as fuck, but… should we talk to the others?”
“We could go alone, not involve them until we know what we’re dealing with.”
“Not a chance. This could be bait.”
“Then why bring the whole club?”
“So they’ll have our backs.” He studies the napkin, turning it over. I already know there’s nothing on the back. I checked as soon as I read it.
“You’re right,” I sigh. “Fuck. I’m going to have to break up the party.”
“Don’t call everyone in, just the best patched guys.”
“Fang will want in on it.”
“Bones, too. Man he’s gonna be pissed about the barbecue.”
“He can have another one tomorrow.” I shrug.
“Diablo?” Ice asks.
“Yeah. Since he’s the Enforcer, he always comes on rides to watch our backs. I’d feel a lot better if he’s riding with us.”
“Anyone else?”
“Tank?” He doesn’t seem entirely sure, but it’s a good idea.
“Since he’s so newly patched, this would be a great way to break him into the real shit we do.”
“We don’t even know what we’re doing,” he points out.
“That’s why I want to keep it to the six of us. The others don’t need to know until we figure out what’s going on.”
“Agreed.”
“Let’s round them up. Church in ten.”
“Should we shut the party down?”
“Nah. Let everyone else have fun. In case someone’s watching the clubhouse, we don’t want to let on that we know something’s going down tonight. That’s another reason we keep this between the six of us.”
“I’ll get Fang and Bones.”
“Any idea where Diablo’s at?” I ask, pushing back from the table and standing.
“I haven’t seen him. Might be down at the warehouse cleaning up the mess from the other day.”
“He’s still not done with it?”
“The guy he was trying to get info out of shit and pissed himself. Diablo painted the walls with the fucker’s blood. I’m sure he’s up to his elbows in bleach and lord knows what else.”
“I’ll call him.”
“Good idea.”
As soon as Ice leaves, I pull my phone out of my cut and punch in Diablo’s number. He picks up on the second ring.
“Pres?” he asks in a gravelly voice.
“Ice said you’re still cleaning up?”
“Yeah, I’m at the warehouse.”
“How much longer do you need?”
“About done. Just need to pour another bottle of bleach and we’re good.”
“I need you back at the clubhouse as soon as you can get here.”
“What’s up?” he asks, his tone even more alert than earlier.
“We’ve got a situation. I’m calling Church, but just for us plus Ice, Fang, Bones, and Tank.”
“Not the full club?”
“Until we figure out what’s going down, I don’t want to involve anyone else.”
“I’ll be there in… let’s say ten to fifteen minutes. Cool?”
“See you soon.”
As I end the call, Ice returns with Bones, who is carrying a steaming platter of burgers.
“Figured we might as well grub while we meet.” Bones sets the platter on the table. “Ice’s bringing buns and sauce and shit.”
Ice and Fang walk in together, carrying plates, napkins, and fixings for the burgers, as well as the buns. They set everything up in the center of the table. Tank strolls in carrying a bucket filled with ice-cold beer.
Each man takes his place at the table, with me at the head. The others chat about the various women at the party while they assemble their dinner. I keep mine simple since I don’t feel much like eating, but I know I need to do it regardless.
I bite into the juicy burger, letting Bones’ special barbecue sauce spill down onto the plate. An explosion of flavor dances across my tongue. The man can fucking grill, that’s for sure.
“Damn good shit,” Ice says, taking another huge bite.
Fang mumbles something while stuffing his face. He’s always got his head down in his laptop and forgets to eat. But when he gets around to it, he can pack it in. For a fucking nerd, he’s still ripped. He works out with us at the gym in our warehouse.
He’s wearing one of his ridiculous graphic t-shirts that reads “BeEr”. However, the nerd part is that the first two letters are one of those atomic chart boxes and it’s labeled “Beryllium 4” with its atomic weight below it, and the second two letters stand for Erbium 68, also with its atomic weight. I don’t know where the hell he gets this shit, maybe nerd-shit-dot-com, but he has a whole closet full of them.
Despite his cargo shorts and sneakers, the man gets just as much pussy as the rest of us. It’s a miracle, really.
Pushing his black-rimmed glasses up his nose, Fang fixes his bright green eyes on me. “This about Broussard?”
“Yeah.” I nod between bites.
“It’s about what’s on that napkin?” Fang jerks his chin toward the note in front of my plate.
“Blue gave it to me.”
“Is she as hot in person as in pics?” He stops chewing, intently waiting for my response.
“She’s okay,” I lie, glancing down at my food as if it’s far more interesting than the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met in my life.
“You’re so full of shit,” Fang laughs.
“What do you know about Black Snake Bayou?” I ask.
“Am I late to the party?” Diablo’s gruff tone comes from directly behind me.
“Grab a burger.” I pick up the gavel and slam it down, signaling the start of Church. “Eat while we talk. We’ve only got a couple hours before midnight.”
After explaining what happened at my meeting with Broussard, ending with the way Blue slipped me the napkin, I sit back and cross my hands over my stomach. “So, we’ve got a decision to make. We don’t know if it’s a trap or not, but we can’t ignore the message.”
“Who is ‘them’?” Diablo asks.
“We don’t know,” I admit.
“But whoever they are, they need savin’,” Bones says. “And that’s what we do.”
“Wasn’t disagreeing,” Diablo says, glaring at Bones.
“Didn’t say you were. Just sayin’, we should check it out. Right, Pres?”
“Yeah.” I turn to Fang and repeat my earlier question. “What do you know about Black Snake Bayou?”
“It’s whispered about in old Cajun legends.” Fang lowers his voice like he’s telling a ghost story. “It’s a swamp filled with restless spirits and dark rituals. Echoes of the dead seem to carry across the water through the still, oppressive air. At night, the bayou transforms into a landscape of shadow and dread, where every rustle and splash hints at something watching, waiting in the darkness.”
“Oh, shut the fuck up,” Ice says, laughing. “It’s just a fucking swamp. Sure, it might have some snakes and alligators, and maybe a few Mexican cartel fuckers trafficking girls, but nothing we can’t handle.”
“We need to be on alert tonight.” I skewer each man with a look so they know I mean business. “This could be a setup, or it could be a solid tip.”
“The place could be full of cartel fuckers,” Diablo says.
“Then we bring the big guns,” Tank says, grinning.
“It’s not a joke,” I snap.
“Nah, Pres. Didn’t mean it like that. Just excited to go on a run.” Tank’s smile fades.
“This is your first, but it could be your last. This isn’t playtime anymore. The shit we do is serious. Everyone needs to be watching everyone else’s backs.”
“I know. Just, we do get to bring the big guns though, right?” Tank asks.
“Yeah, yeah,” Ice says. “Load up, and get grenades too. Just in case.”
“There’s no way to get eyes or ears there ahead of time,” Fang says. “There aren’t any cameras to tap into.”
“We’re going in blind, so be ready for anything.”
“Do you think Broussard set this up? What’s your gut saying?” Diablo asks.
“Blue looked terrified when she slipped the note into my hand. She was trembling. Broussard didn’t see it go down, so I doubt he put her up to it. That said, we can’t discount it.”
“Exactly,” Ice says. “The note says midnight, but if we get there a little early, then we can spread out and look around.”
“Let’s ride in an hour. Put on chest-high waterproof waders and boots. Long-sleeved, moisture-wicking shirts to protect against the mosquitos.”
“I hate those fuckers,” Tank grumbles.
“Swamp gear,” Fang nods. “Got it.”
“Anyone got anything to bring up before I end Church?” I ask.
“Nope.”
“Nada.”
“All good, Pres.”
“Then we’re adjourned.” I slam the gavel, ending the meeting.
“Think Tank’s got enough time to let Vicki suck him off before we go?” Fang asks, ribbing the newbie.
“Fuck you,” Tank snaps.
“Looks like she’s got a Hoover for a mouth. She could probably suck his soul right out his body,” Diablo chuckles.
“You guys are such assholes,” Tank says, heading for the door.
“Tell her we said hi,” Ice calls before Tank slams the door on his way out. Ice laughs. “He’s going to kill us all in our sleep one day if we keep that up.”
“Kid’s got it so bad for that chick,” Fang says.
“She’s not a bad girl, better than the other sluts,” Ice says.
“Have you guys seen the way she looks at him when he’s not paying attention? Bitch is in love,” Bones says.
“Really?” Diablo gives him a skeptical look.
“Has she tried to fuck you lately?” Bones asks, making his point.
“Shit. No, she hasn’t. Not since Tank patched in.” Diablo looks like he just uncovered the equivalent of the Rosetta Stone. “God damn, is she in love with him? Is that why she hasn’t tried to ride anyone else’s dick?”
“Bingo,” Bones says smugly.
“Well, shit. Good for him.” Diablo grins. “Pussy-whipped shithead better have his head on straight tonight. Maybe someone should go get her so she can suck him off before we leave. At least then he won’t be thinking about boning her while we’re elbow deep in swamp water.”
“Be my guest.” I gesture toward the door.
“Nah, man. He’ll have to wrangle his own pussy. And speaking of getting sucked off, I’ve got my eye on this one chick—” Ice starts.
“The blonde with the black lace corset and thigh-high leather boots?” Bones whistles. “Wanna spit roast her?”
“Since when the fuck do I share?”
“Guys, go get fucked or sucked or whatever, but get your shit together within the hour.”
I leave them to squabble over who’s going to bang the hottest slut at the party, and head upstairs. There’s only one woman I’m thinking about tonight and that’s Blue. I think I know how she got that name too. My nuts are so heavy they feel like they’re going to explode. It would be easy enough to get balls-deep in one of the club sluts, but they don’t hold any appeal.
As I close my bedroom door, I strip down. When I told the others to get fucked or sucked so they’d get their head in the right place for later, I was talking more to myself than to them.
Stroking my hand down the length of my shaft, I grab my laptop and pull up a pic of Blue from a recent charity gala. She’s smiling at the camera, dressed in a silky black gown that molds to every curve. Her bright red, very fuckable lips grab my attention and hold it. I’d love to feel them wrapped around my cock, sucking and licking.
“Fuck,” I moan.
My hand strokes faster as her wet, hot mouth closes around the head of my dick. Her little pink tongue darts out to swirl around me before she sucks my entire cock down her throat. Thrusting hard against my palm, I picture her lips working up and down my shaft, pulling and dragging me closer to the peak of ecstasy.
I roar out my orgasm, not giving a single shit about coming all over my laptop screen. When the last blissful spurt leaves me, I collapse on the bed.
Staring up at the ceiling, all I can think about is Blue. If she’s sending me headlong into a trap, I’ll make her pay. But if she’s trying to get us to rescue someone, then I’ll do everything in my power to make it happen.
I have no idea how tonight’s going to go, but I’m about to find out. Once I know what’s up, then I’ll know if she’s a friend or an enemy. I hope it’s the former because she doesn’t seem evil, not like her father and her fiancé. My gut’s telling me she’s a good girl caught in the web of some very bad men. If that’s what’s really going on, then I’m going to make it my mission to get her the hell out of it.