Call Me...Vengeance: Book 1 in the Vengeance MC Series (3 page)

Not checking the caller ID, I growl,

“You’ve got me.”

“Boss, Cage. How you doing old man?” He asks with humor lacing his tone.

Declan ‘Cage’ Marks, the newly appointed President of, Devil’s Spawn MC located in, Blackwater, Colorado, is young, cocky, and a pain in my ass. In saying that, he was born to take on the job he’s got now. Smart, cunning, and observant, Cage was the perfect man to take over the role as President when Priest died earlier this year.

A family man, married to, Kendall, the daughter of their previous President; Cage had made a lot of the same decision for his club going forward as I had. And I respected him for it. He didn’t want to raise his three kids, a child he had with his wife, one from an earlier relationship, and one he adopted in a world fraught with violence and pain.

While Devil’s Spawn aren’t as influential as Vengeance, they still have their feet firmly planted in the gray area between legitimate and illegal. Weed, providing protection for black market contraband transportation, and questionable deals
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struck with law enforcement, Devil’s Spawn wasn’t squeaky clean, but they weren’t finding it as hard to dig themselves out of that lifestyle either.

“Cage, what can I do you for?”

“You sound like shit, Brother. Big night?” he asks. I can envisage the grin on the cocky bastards face now.

Grunting, I shift myself up until I’m back to the headboard, disentangling the leggy brunette as go. I’d gotten home early enough last night I just hadn’t had nearly enough sleep that was the problem. Shayla, one of the club whores and a spectacular lay, had worn my ass out until the wee hours of this morning. I wasn’t built for all night fucking anymore. I was getting too old for that shit.

“This a conversation I need privacy for,” I ask ignoring his question.

“That’d be good,” he states.

Swinging my legs off the side of the bed, I look back over my shoulder as I’m pulling on my jeans at the sound of, Shayla’s moan, and grin at the sight of the naked woman in my bed. Tits bared, masses of creamy skin on display, pussy exposed for my viewing pleasure, Shayla is definitely one of the better fucks I’ve had.

Putting thoughts of what I intend to do to, Shayla’s pussy, her ass, and her mouth when she wakes up aside, I adjust my hardening cock in my boxers and make my way into the kitchen.

I don’t often bring women home to my house. In fact, Shayla would be the first female to ever step foot inside my private residence. If I need to fuck, I usually do it at the clubhouse. It’s easier that way. I can kick them out after I’ve had my fun with them, and I don’t have to worry about them showing up on my doorstep without invitation.

Set into the base of the mountain, my six, now five, bedroom, three bath house is far too big for one man alone, but I wasn’t thinking about that when I bought it sixteen months ago. I knew the time was coming that I’d start thinking about settling down, getting an old lady and having a couple of kids. At thirty-nine, I might not be over the hill, but I didn’t want to be in a fucking wheelchair when my kids graduated high school either. In saying that, there was one thing holding me back from moving forward with that dream; I hadn’t met a woman I wanted to take that ride with yet.

The farmhouse was a rundown shit heap when closed on it. Barely a foundation and frame. The walls were practically non-existent, and the floors, staircases, anything wood had rotted out past the point of being viable to repair. Plumbing, wiring and the roof had to be completely ripped out or off and replaced. And the property surrounding the house needed to be cleared. All-in-all, it was a fucking dump. But a dump with potential.

It took a little over a year to get it finished and for me to move in, but I couldn’t deny the results. It turned out exactly how I’d hoped it would. Polished floors gleamed their dark, rich hue in the early morning and evening sun hit them. The he sash windows at the front and back of the house opened it up to expose the view of the mountain range beyond. With a living room, dining room, office, guest room I’d turned into a home gym, half-bath, and kitchen downstairs you’d think it would be a rabbit warren of hallways and doors but it’s not.

I knocked out every wall that wasn’t load bearing or hadn’t fallen down, only resurrecting the ones that were necessary to enclose the half-bath, office, and home gym. Everything else was open-plan, sectioned off by furniture. Upstairs, I’d left the layout the same as it was when I first found the place.

At the top of the stairs, my master suite was to the left, the other four bedrooms, now three after I knocked down a wall to increase the square footage of my room, to the right, sharing one full bath. The decision to take the house from six bedrooms to five was made based on me potentially sharing the place with a woman one day. And seeing as everyone knows, women have a lot of shit, buying to compensate for that made sense.

I increased the closet space, included his and hers sinks in the adjoining bathroom, a shower with four shower heads, and a whirlpool tub. The floor space in the bedroom was more than I’d ever need on my own, but add a few more pieces of furniture and whatever other crap a woman needed to feel at home, it would be filled in no time. At present, I only had a California king sleigh bed, two side tables, and a set of drawers in there. That was all I needed. I liked living simply when I could.

Trudging across the kitchen, I flick on the coffee machine, pull a pack of smokes off shelf beside the fridge and light up. Fuck, I love that first hit of nicotine in the morning. Exhaling heavily, blowing a thin stream of gray smoke into the air, I prompt,

“Talk. You got problems, Brother?”

“No. It’s more like you’ve got problems and I’m calling to let you know they’re closing in,” he sighs.

“Yeah, don’t we all?” I ask meaning it. “I’m taking it from this call you know something I don’t, Cage. You wanna let me in on what that might be?”

“Had a run that skirted, Hells Riders territory last week. The boys need to stop, rest, refuel, and decided to do that at a place called, Jimbo’s. You heard of it?”

“Yep. A little hole-in-the-wall bar about five miles from the Hells Riders clubhouse. Not primarily a biker bar, but it apparently sees a lot of that trade seeing as it’s so close to their home base. That the one you’re talking about?” I ask knowing it is.

“That’d be the one,” Cage grumbles.

“Did your boys run into trouble there? Or are you just asking because you’re trying to learn the places not to visit on your annual family vacation?”

“None of the above, brother. And even if we had run into trouble, I sure as hell wouldn’t be calling your ass to bail us out of it. I might be less experienced than you, Boss, but I’ve been living this life the entirety of mine. Meaning, I’m capable of getting my boys out of a jam if it comes to that,” he grunts.

“No disrespect intended, Cage. You know I’ve got a lot of love for you and your club.” And I do. I respect the hell of him for stepping up and into such an enormous pair of shoes to fill. Priest was a legend, and he left behind a legacy when he died. A legacy Cage is doing well to continue. Remarkably so.

“Yeah, I do know that, and you know it goes both ways, Boss. If it wasn’t for you, the guidance you’ve given me since we lost, Priest, I don’t know if Devil’s Spawn would have fared as well we have. That aside, that’s not why I’m calling,” Cage huffs.

“While they were there, Tank, Glock, and Saint heard some chatter about, Black Widows patching over to, Hells Riders. The boys didn’t think much of it, just figured it was a few old guys jabbering away at the bar and all that. It wasn’t until they hit, Blackwater and Tank spoke to Reaper, that they could confirm the rumor’s going around, and not just this side of, Colorado, south too. Apparently, this has been in the works for a while. Black Widows have cut out chapters, joining charters just to keep decent numbers in their ranks, and that’s not a new development.”

“No, that side of things isn’t, but the patch over is,” I confirm. “Whatever they’re planning, they’re keeping it quite out this way. None of my boys would keep this shit from me if they’d gotten wind of it, so I can only assume they don’t want us knowing until it’s been decided and it’s already in the works.”

“That’s what I was leaning toward think too,” Cage grunts unhappily. “What’s this gonna mean for you, though, Brother? I know you’ve got ally clubs coming out of your ass; us, Rioters, Rebel Warriors, and Disaster, but is that gonna be enough to send a message if the situation demands it?” He questions.

He’s right to ask, especially since his club might be requested to ride with us, but I don’t share the same concerns he has about the amount of manpower that would be necessary to take them down.

“Rioters are up to five chapters now, not including their mother chapter. Rebel Warriors are at four. Disaster is on par with, Devil’s Spawn at three, they’re even thinking about opening another chapter down, Montana way seeing as their numbers are getting up there. The jacked up part of the whole thing is, even with the six charters we’ve got, seven if you include us, and the nomads who bring our numbers up to an even eight, Hells Riders know the firepower they’re coming up against and they’re gonna do it anyway. Shit’s gonna get messy if they’re considering some kind of a fucked up power play. Not saying, Vengeance will back down if it’s a war they’re bringing to our doorstep, but I’m not jonesing for one either.”

Cage is silent a beat before saying,

“I’ll keep my ear to the ground here, ask the boys to do the same, and I’ll call if I hear anything. Keep me in the loop, though, yeah?” He asks as if I wouldn’t.

“You know it. Prepare, though, Brother,” I warn. “I’m thinking this is gonna go downhill fast when it happens.”

“Heard, and will do. Ride safe. Peace, Brother.”

“Same here, Cage. Thanks for the heads up,” I say disconnecting before he can reply.

I give myself a few minutes to digest what I’ve learned, but after I do and the coffee brewing has lost its appeal, I head back up to my bedroom and the woman I’m hoping is ready for round seven and eight. Because right now, I can’t think of a better way to work out my mounting frustration than to spank and fuck the delicious, Shayla’s ass. Watching her tight, virgin ass take my cock should help to distract me, at least, for a while.

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I knew I couldn’t put off taking what Cage had told me to the club for long. My brothers need to be prepared for what could be coming our way. After pounding into, Shayla until my cock was aching and spent, I text Diesel, instructing him to call church for eleven this morning. I had to wake her again when I was ready to leave, the woman had passed out cold after I was done with her, reminding me why I hated bringing women home with me.

This shit – the morning after – is what I try so desperately to avoid. I’m not a man who gives tender kisses and promises of phone calls later. Dating and everything that entail isn’t something I do. I find. I fuck. I flick. That’s it. I know when I do eventually find the woman who will take my property patch, ride bitch on my bike, and wear my ring I’ll have to rethink the way I do things, but not today.

Walking Shayla to her car – I insisted she drives her own car because no woman ride on the back of my bike – I pat her on the ass as I say,

“It was a good time, Babe. Thanks.”

Pouting like a goddamned duck, she asks,

“I had a great time too. When can I see you again, Boss?”

Ushering her into the car as quickly as possible, I go as far as to shut her door before replying.

“I’ll see you around the clubhouse sometime. Now I don’t have a regular anymore, I’m sure we can work something out, yeah?” This is the most commitment she’s going to get from me, so if she doesn’t like it, then she’s shit out of luck.

“Oh, I thought we could do this again, here,” she whines.

“No, babe, this was a one-time thing. I needed to sleep in my own bed, and for once I didn’t wanna do that alone. You were a great lay, Babe, but not good enough for me to go ahead and install you in my house,” I state, hoping I’m making myself clear about where this is going to go between us.

Slapping the roof of her Ford Taurus signaling she’s good to go, Shayla doesn’t reply. She simply kicks over the engine and peels out of my driveway like the hounds of hell are on her ass. Shrugging into my cut, I fire up my bike and take off for the clubhouse more than ready to get church over and done with.

Patch-overs aren’t unheard of, but they are uncommon. Rare enough to cause widespread speculation. More often than not, patch-overs occur when a smaller club can’t financially sustain club expenses, or they don’t have a sufficient number of members to protect their turf anymore. What troubles me about, Black Widows and Hells Riders, teaming up is that this appears to be an alliance purely for the sake of power and position. And if I’m right, and that is the case, then it signals something is brewing. Something sinister at that.

The only upside is that patch-overs take time, it isn’t instantaneous. You have to call in your riders, call in your nomads, get approval from your mother chapter, and you have to get a unanimous ‘aye’ vote. Albeit that will give us time to prepare for the worst, I didn’t hold out hope this would end without bloodshed, on both sides, if it went ahead. I might not know when this is slated to go down, but there is one thing I do know and that is; even patched over into the Hells Riders, Black Widows don’t come close to touching the manpower or firepower of Vengeance, club allies notwithstanding.

With all sixteen seats at church filled, thirty-five active members, eight prospects, and that’s just in the mother chapter, Vengeance is still the reigning MC in the six states south of, Colorado. The only good deed my former President, and father had done was build up the ranks of Vengeance with good brothers. Brothers who are loyal, solid, and dedicated. Brothers who would lay down their lives for me, each other, and the patch they wear on their backs without a seconds’ hesitation. Brothers, I’m eternally grateful for.

Parking my bike, I make it to church with five minutes to spare. It’s not like they wouldn’t have had to wait for me, but it’s disrespectful, even if you are the man in charge, to be late. Sitting to my right is my Vice President, Diesel, and to my left, Gage, my SAA. The rest of the chairs are filled, seats lining the walls for untitled, but full patch brothers.

Banging the gavel once, I start, not wanting to waste time.

“Got a call from, Cage this morning. His boys were out our way a week back, a county over, and caught wind of some information he thought we’d be interested in.” Eyeing my brothers, I note their expressions range from alert to hungover, but regardless of their varying states, all of them are listening. “Word is Black Widows are struggling harder to remain a viable charter out here than we’ve been led to believe. I’m assuming the house cleaning they did a while back, which saw five members losing their ink and another nine on probation, that they aren’t recovering as well as they’d expected to. I haven’t heard that they’ve patched in any new prospects, haven’t even been looking. Cash flow isn’t what it used to be either. After losing the Meth pipeline up in the valley too, Rioters, Black Widows are scrambling for a solution that’ll see them firmly back in the black.”

“What’s that got to do with us?” Cash, my treasurer groans. “Black Widows have been up to their asses in debt for a while now. Members not paying their dues, the pipeline being stolen out from under them, not to mention, they lost the license for their bar last month. Add to that, their overheads are still just as high as they’ve ever been. But still, none of that impact, Vengeance.”

“Maybe not, but them looking at a patch over into, HR’s sure as fuck does.”

“You’re fucking joking, right? Hells Riders have gotta have rocks in their heads if they’re thinking about taking on a sinking ship like Black Widows,” Sly, my Intelligence Officer grunts.

Followed by a hissed,

“Jesus fucking Christ,” from Diesel.

“Look, it boils down to this; aside from they’re thinking about it, we don’t know when, how, or why. I’m speculating here, but if this is about the Black Widows trying for a bail-out package, I think they’ve forgotten they aren’t dealing with the government. HR’s aren’t gonna pull them out of whatever they’ve gotten themselves into with a hefty injection of cash and a promise of an ally should they ever need it. We know how Hells Riders operate. They’re gonna want new patches on their backs, and blood in blood out. New ink. New mentality. HR’s are going to ask for everything shy of their first born to get this deal done, and if the Black Widows are in enough trouble that they’re seriously considering it, we’ve gotta be prepared for what that’s gonna mean for us.”

“And what does that look like for us?” Fury, my Enforcer, enquires.

“Best case scenario?” I ask tilting my chin. At his nod, I reply, “Nothing. They patch in, and HR’s gets thirteen stronger. Worst case? They’re setting up a power play after hearing we’re out of the trafficking business. It’s no secret that HR’s have wanted a piece of our pie for a long fucking time. This would be their perfect opportunity to strike. They’ve got no idea that we’ve shut those deals down, and what we haven’t we’ve spread out between Rebel Warrior, Disaster, and Rioters. As far as they know, Vengeance still holds the connections to those pipelines’ and they want them. However, Coke is done. The last shipment was taken possession over a month ago. Guns, we’ve only got Vasquez left to cut loose, and Fury, Sly and I are sitting down with him tomorrow to wind that up. There’s nothing for them to claim.”

“That doesn’t mean they aren’t gonna try. I mean, what the fuck does this look like for the MC’s who’ve taken over from us?” Gage spits.

“One step at a time, Brother,” I urge. Gage is known for getting ahead of himself, but that’s the only flaw the man I call my, Sergeant at Arms has. Acting before thinking. “My first priority is, Vengeance. We’re not moving out of crack and guns to get into a fucking war we don’t have a stake in. The other clubs knew what they were getting into when we took our offer to them, but still, I’ll make the calls to Dixon, Savage, and Chopper to let them know what could be headed their way. What they do with that info is up to them. None of them are stupid, though, so I don’t think we have to worry about blowback from whatever decisions they make going forward.”

“I hate to say it, but I don’t think it’s gonna be that straight forward, Brother,” Diesel drones. “Going in, we knew there were gonna be some teething issues, HR’s were one of them. Black Widows aside, they were always gonna make a move once we stepped down, and this just confirms it. We all know what, Nix and his band of fuckwit brothers are capable of if anything, Black Widows joining their ranks might bring some intelligence to their table. Mills isn’t an asshole, just a dumbass. He made some fucked up decision, brought his club low, and in the process has doomed them to throw their lot in with, HR’s.”

Fury rolls his eyes asking,

“What’s your point, Diesel? Black Widows knew what they were doing when they voted, Mills in as, President. He was a dick then and he’s a dick now. No Prez worth his patch makes decisions that lead to his chapter having to disband, and cast their lot in with assholes like that. And don’t try and tell me Mills didn’t know because you and I both know that’s bullshit.”

“He’s right, Brother,” Sly adds. “Peddling pussy is one thing, but Nix makes that look like a night at the drive-in. Everyone north of the fucking Mexican border knows, Nix has been trafficking women, not all legal, north through the Dakota’s into Canada. What happens to them next is anyone’s guess, but that isn’t the least of the fucked up shit he’s into.”

Isn’t that the truth.

Joseph ‘Nix’ Walker, current President of, Hells Riders MC, and all around sick motherfucker is into some shit Vengeance at its worst hasn’t touched on. Rape, the murder of innocents, torture, seriously gruesome, depraved shit I can’t even begin to imagine in my most horrific nightmares.

A few years back, a string of fourteen-fifteen-year-old girls started going missing. Not from, Furnace or any of our directly neighboring counties. No, that would have brought heat from the Feds, and HR’s didn’t need that kind of attention. Close enough, though. Far too close for comfort, actually. Over the course of eight months, eleven girls disappeared. All bar one were never seen or heard from again.

Jessica Fischer, fifteen, from Grand Lake, Colorado was found beaten, repeatedly stabbed, raped, and dumped in the woods thirty miles south of, Furnace. She was alive when Search and Rescue found her, but died during transport, five minutes from the hospital. Details were never released to the public, but I managed to get hold of a copy of the autopsy, and what I read would haunt me forever.

She was bound and gagged, traces of adhesive residue were found on her wrists, ankles, and at the sides of her mouth. Bruises covered almost every inch of her pale skin. Her tiny, fragile body bore the brunt of multiple beatings. The varying age, depth, and method of exacting the wounds was extreme and proved she’d been held captive for at least a week, if not longer before succumbed to the pain-free haven of death.

Welts, boot imprints, and belt buckle contusions, along with dozens of cigarette burns littered her corpse. All of which were inflicted before she died. The worst of her suffering was the damage done to her insides. She was raped, repeatedly, in every orifice. Not only by animal posing as men but with implements, some sharp as well. I won’t go into the degree of fucked up that was, needless to say; it was fucking horrendous.

Shaking myself free of those disturbing images, I try and get us back on track.

“We’ve brought this to the table before, and it was voted down. No matter how sick and twisted the shit, Nix, and the Hells Riders do is, Vengeance doesn’t get involved. We’ll do our part if we came across damning evidence, that was agreed to, but we’re not going around digging into it unless it involved one of our own.” It’s not that I don’t have a moral compass, I do. But the sad reality is; it’s not my job, or my clubs to investigate unsolved murders. The cops tend to frown on that.

“So breaking it down,” Diesel begins. “We got a tip that, Black Widows and, HR’s are getting into bed with each other. The timing fits that this is some kind of fucked up hostile takeover, and we don’t have a horse in the running anymore so we’re out of the race but into the fire. That about right?”

“Sounds that way,” Sly answers for me.

Whistling to get their attention, I cross my arms over my chest and wait.

“That’s the intel we’ve got so far, yes. But I’m not saying we aren’t gonna be proactive in this. If you think for a second I’m gonna leave this up to chance, make a few calls, and sit around with my thumb up my ass, you’ve got another thing coming.”

“Never said that Boss,” Sly quips. “All I’m saying is; our hands are tied. We can’t pull out but still insist we’ve got the right to protect what was ours. And we can’t go digging around in HR’s or Black Widows business without them catching wind of it.”