Fallen Idols MC - Complete (5 page)

NINE

TRISTA

As I rode I tried to shake the memory of Blaze touching my skin the night before. And of his truth of the night his family left. If what he said was true, then they had to leave, it was a club decision. I wouldn’t have any reason to hate him anymore. That would be trouble. That allowed me to be with him. I couldn’t think about that now though, there was too much at stake. I needed to focus.

We dismounted our bikes right in front of El Presidente's home. Isidro was the head of Las Almas, and my mother's brother. Yep, that made for super fun holiday meals. There was a time in my childhood when I didn't even remember him, but when I was barely a teenager, he and Dad made an agreement that, if they didn't run drugs on our territory, our blood war would end. Chen's little information from earlier was a big pill for my father to swallow. Sure, we still had issues with some of their young ones, but for the most part, their officers stayed away from us. By showing up to his house, we were making a statement.

El Presidente walked out with a shotgun over his shoulder, as he descended the concrete steps in front of his home. Several of his men fanned out on the sidewalk. There were maybe six of them, but I knew that he owned this whole block, and that there were guys in the house behind us as well. One signal, and like a sniper, one of us would go down.

“What brings you to Pineview?”

Rogue took a step forward, Ace and Pops flanking him. “You know why we’re here. We had an agreement, esé. You don't run drugs, and we don't steal your cars. But today, we have both missing car parts, and a strung out junkie up at the Red Dragons who said she's buying in Brooks Landing. I assume you know something about that.”

Isidro curled his mustache between his two fingers. He had multiple rings on them, and I wondered if his wife came out, she’d have bruises on her face. Imprints of the letters. “No, man. That wasn’t us.”

Rogue took a step forward, pulled out his gun, and fired. Within a second, he dropped one of Isidro's men. Guns flew out everywhere. Nobody shot, but we were all ready to make a move. “Nothing else needs to happen here. You didn't play by the rules, so neither did I.”

The man's dark blood filled the pavement. It was a clean shot, directly in the head. He never even had a chance to pull out his weapon. I kept my gun pointed at my uncle. It didn't matter that he was family; my MC came first. If one of his guys released a bullet, then I would put one in his skull.

“Not the way we play, Rogan. You know that. Don’t change the game on us.”

Rogue scoffed. “Why? You did!”

I saw Isidro nod, and a second later, hands grabbed me from behind, and a gun was put to the back of my head. I couldn't believe I didn't see him. The prospects were supposed to be watching our backs. Cruz and Blaze would pay for this.

“Mi hermano! You killed my fucking brother. Now we'll see what it's like to lose one of your own.” I felt the cold metal at the back of my head, and I said a prayer. But, when I heard the gun go off, I didn't feel the pain. I looked to my right, and saw Blaze with his gun out in front of him, looking determined. He made the shot that saved my life.

Within seconds, the streets erupted into chaos. The Mexicans shot at us from all angles. I ran for cover behind the van that Cruz had been driving. I didn't want to leave my bike, but I didn't have another choice. A bullet went into the van.

“Cruz!”

“I’m fine! Let’s get the hell outta here!”

I continued to use the van as my shield, and watched my father continue to shoot as he got on his bike and fled, along with four other members following him. I stayed with my back against the van, and moved swiftly around the corner to see if I could make a run for it.

Right in front of me was a man in a bandana, with the typical skull tattoo on his arm. I didn’t even think; I just shot. He fell with a bullet in his chest as I heard Bones call to me.

“Trista, we gotta go. Now!”  He covered me while I ran to my Harley, and got on. They shot after us, but with the van blocking the way, we were safe.

Looking behind me, I counted at least four dead on the ground. Served them right. You don't mess with our territory.

As I kept driving, I considered what had just happened. I never let my guard down. And I was nobody's hostage, but yet Blaze had just saved my life. If that wasn't a test of his loyalty, I didn't know what was. He was all in, and suddenly, I wasn't so annoyed by his presence. Instead, I allowed myself to think about how I wanted to repeat last night. How, in the kitchen, I knew he was hard thinking about me. I had felt my body tense in response. Blaze had saved me, and I needed to pay him back. It might've just been the vibration of my bike, but I needed to have Blaze again. He was suddenly like a drug, and I needed a fix.

TEN

Back at the clubhouse, the guys were getting shitfaced, celebrating that everyone was whole. A couple of them were loving on some club whores, while a few more slammed back drinks. It would be a long night.

We had gotten lucky making that bold move. Rogue was asserting his dominance. I just hoped it had worked.

I eyed Blaze behind the bar, and made my way to the steps. Catching his attention, I beckoned him with a finger. I told myself I only wanted to say thank you, but, deep down, I knew I wanted more. He followed me upstairs, but not before giving shifty eyes to Larry. I would have to cover this up later.

We stood against the pool table, completely alone. The perfect spot. I reached over, my fingertips trailing down his sculpted arm.

“You saved my life.” No one had ever done that before. I wasn’t the type of girl who needed saving.

“I had to.”

“Why? Because I’m the president’s daughter?” Say yes. Don’t tell me it’s because…

“I want you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I do, Trista. I think I know how I feel better than you.”

I glared at him. I didn’t do feelings. I did sex. Fucking. I didn’t know how to do any different, and I certainly didn’t know how to “make love” to someone. I couldn’t have him going around professing feelings. I needed to nip this in the bud. He needed to understand what this was—a thank you fuck. I didn’t know how to feel like that. Sure, I cared about my family, but I protected them, took care of them. I didn’t have a boyfriend. I’d never had sex because of feelings. Last night had nothing to do with feelings and it was the best sex I’d ever had.

He moved closer to me, pushing me against the pool table. “I want you,” he whispered haughty in my ear. I sucked in a breath. “I want to show you how I feel.”

“I just want to say thank you… I…”

He kissed me, long and hard, my resolve waning. For a moment, I forgot that I wasn’t allowed to be with him. He was a prospect. Totally off limits.

That just made me want him even more.

He pressed me up against the wall, his fingers digging into my ass. I couldn’t control the want I had for him any longer. I pushed against his mouth again, devouring it, as I ran my fingers through his hair, pulling gently on the thick strands.

He moaned, and tossed me onto the pool table, pulling off my shirt, ripping it in the process. I released my bra for him, and he tugged at his belt, our lips never detaching. He slipped his hand under my panties, running his fingers lightly up and down my slit.

I groaned with pleasure and want. He took his mouth off mine to suck my wetness off his fingers. That movement alone almost brought me to climax. I quickly unclasped his jeans, and pulled them down with one hand, while the other reached into his boxers, and grabbed his rock hard shaft, squeezing slightly.

“This is how I say thank you.”

He jerked at the feel of my hands on him, and I slowly started to stroke, gently biting his nipples as I kissed my way down to where my hands were. I ran my tongue over the tip of his cock, tasting the saltiness of the pre-cum. I slid him into my mouth, and attempted to go slowly, but the taste of him drove me wild, and I moved faster, taking him deeper.

“Hold on, sweetheart. If you move any quicker, this thing will be over before it begins,” he said, pulling my mouth off him with a pop. But I just couldn’t stop.

“Ahh!” He gave up on pulling me off of him, and began to move my head up and down, pushing himself into the back of my throat. I gladly took him deeper, suckling and slurping him along the way. I began to massage his balls, as my mouth moved rapidly over his cock. I could tell he was close, so, to push him over the edge, I tugged on his sack a little bit, pinching them lightly, as he thrust himself into my mouth as deep as he could go, feeling the saltiness spill down my throat.

I licked him dry, and then stood up, feeling pretty proud of myself.

“That’s some way of saying thanks.” He smiled, pulling his pants back on.

“Listen, this was fun and all, but it—” I had to tell him, he was a prospect, I was a member. This couldn’t work.

“Taylor? You up here?” Rocco yelled as I put on my shirt.

“Shit!” I tossed the rest of his clothes at him, and fled to a bedroom to get dressed. It wasn’t a second later Rocco’s footsteps hit the top step.

“What the hell are you doing up here, man? There’s plenty of pussy downstairs, no need to do it alone.”

“Uhh yeah, just cleaning up. You know,” Blaze responded.

“Let’s get you downstairs, ya nasty ass. Time to get that cut.”

I peered out from behind the door to see Rocco taking him downstairs. That was close. But damn if it didn’t feel good.

I waited almost an hour before going downstairs; didn’t want to create suspicion. Blaze wore his cut and worked with Larry behind the bar. He was officially in. I wondered how that made him feel. And how that would affect whatever the hell it was we were doing. Because I wanted to do it again, and again. I sat down at the bar just when the phone started ringing.

“You gonna get that, Prospect?”

He smiled at me devilishly. “Thought the phone was for members only?”

I rolled my eyes. “Fine I’ll get it.”

The room was so loud I could hardly hear the woman on the other end of the line. “Shut up! All of you!”

“Hello, who is this?”

“My name is Pam. I work in the justice department. Someone told me you pay for info.”

“Sometimes, depends how good it is.”

“They have Axel in custody. Some shit went down with Las Almas, and he’s hurt. They’re doing some work, but he’s going to San Quentin.”

“Fuck. Thanks for the tip.” I hung up.

Rogue sauntered up to me. “Something going on, baby doll?” He smelled like whiskey; he always smelled that way when celebrating.

I sighed. “Axel and Las Almas. Lady said jail time.”

He shook his head. “Shit.”

“Rogue, we gotta get him out of there. You know Las Almas have guys on the inside, they’ll kill him.”

Rogue nodded. “Everybody in the back,” he commanded, but no one moved. “Now!” The girls scattered, and the men made their way through the back doors.

Blaze just looked at me blankly. “Welcome to the life, Prospect. Welcome to the fuckin family.”

###

Weaken

Fallen Idols MC 2

Axel and Paige Book 1

Savannah Rylan

ONE

AXEL

The iron bars clinked and rattled, moving in slow motion, as they began to close in front of me. I shut my eyes briefly; the sound reminded me of an old wooden roller coaster approaching the crest of a hill. Only, there’d be no free fall at the end of this ride.

The guard slammed the door with finality as my eyes popped open, the sound of the lock clicking into place, reverberating off the walls, and bouncing around in my head.

“Welcome to San Quentin,” a staccato voice bellowed behind me. I didn’t bother to turn around. We’d have plenty of time to chat later. Three months, as a matter of fact. Instead, I watched the fat bastard on the other side of the bars, as he double checked the latch, smirking at me in a way that made me want to rip his fuckin’ face off.

“Feeling a bit naked without your cut, Cook?” the guard sneered. My teeth clenched tight, as he laughed, walking away with a swing in his step. “Better get used to it. The club can’t get you out of this one.”

My hands clenched at the taunt, my knuckles turning white, but I managed to bite my tongue. Fuckin’ pig wants my reaction; wants me to threaten him so he can have an excuse to extend my sentence. I’d bet anything that he’s on the Las Almas payroll. I’m gonna have to do something about that.

“So, whatcha in for?” my new cellmate asked. God, why’d I have to get a fuckin’ chatty one?

I turned around, tossing the provided thin blanket—so pitiful I wouldn’t let my dog lay on it—up on the empty top rack of the bed, pain shooting through my chest. I winced at the movement. “A bullshit trumped up assault charge. Fuckin’ cops just lookin’ for an excuse to get at us.”

I absentmindedly touched my still-sore ribs, a few of which I knew were broken. Fuckin’ asshole deserved every blow I dealt to him. And more if Rev wouldn’t have busted it up. Not only had I caught that Las Almas prick dealin’ blow in our part of town—even after we declared war, and eighty-sixed a few of their guys just hours before no less.  What’s worse, the fucker had backhanded his old lady when she’d gotten out of the car to take a piss. Hit her so hard she was knocked out cold, and that’s some shit I won’t tolerate.

I’d known better than to pick a beef in the middle of town, but the asshole was dealin’ right in the gas station parking lot when I pulled up to refill my Fat Boy. He was either stupid or desperate, in all honestly probably both, but I couldn’t let that shit slide.

For years, the Idols and the Almas had an understanding; they wouldn’t sell their shit in Brooks Landing, and we wouldn’t boost any cars from Pineview. Most of the time, everyone stuck to his word. That was, until yesterday, when Rogue declared war for El Presidente allowin’ his boys to deal. He denied it, but we weren’t buying his story. And, their fuckin’ prospect was new, and didn’t know his asshole from a hole in his head. With the concussion, broken ribs, and busted jaw I gave him, he’ll learn quick.

I glanced back at my new cellmate, his head tilted. “Do I even want to know who ‘us’ refers to?”

I pulled up my shirtsleeve, revealing one of the many tattoos snaking down my arm. A raven with outstretched wings both above and below the phrase, “By the water I ride” –our club motto.

The man’s eyebrows rose a bit in understanding, and he nodded. “I’m Marcus. Nice to meet ya as we’ll be spending some time together.” He reached out his hand.

I gave him a good once over before responding. He was older, probably in his late sixties. His dark, leathered skin had no gang tats visible, and at his age, I wasn’t worried too much that he would jump me or anything. He was probably just a lifer; one of those people who can’t seem to get their act together once they’re out, so they resort back to the only thing they know: crime. I stepped toward him and reached out mine, shaking his hand. “Axel.”

He winced, finally getting a better look at me. “And, just how bad is the other guy?”

I leaned against the bedpost, my tongue sliding over the barely healed scab on my busted lip. “Still in the hospital. Lucky he’s not in the morgue.”

I know I look like shit. Feel like it too. Two fractured ribs, countless bruises, and seven stitches on a cut above my right eye. Bastard had a crowbar I didn’t see till I was already up on him. They did a quick patch job in the ER, but it was still gonna take a few days to get back to feeling normal.

Marcus nodded. “I’ll bet. Well, I’ll let you be. It’ll be lights out soon. I’ve got the bottom bunk on account of my bum knee, and the fact I was here first, but I’ll switch you just for tonight if ya need.”

I shook my head. “Nah. I’ll be fine.” I hooked my leg on the rung of the ladder, and hoisted myself up, wincing at the pain shooting through my side. I really wished I had a stiff drink right about now. Or two. Folding the blanket in half, I slid it under my head, and closed my eyes, drifting right to sleep.

Only eighty-nine days to go.

***

“Chow time!” Marcus announced, just as a buzzer sounded throughout the unit. My eyes popped open, and I groaned at the stiffness in my body. Fuck me, that crowbar really did a number. I sat up, letting my legs swing over, so they dangled off the side, as I inspected my injuries.

I sucked in a breath, and hopped down, ignoring the pain. The first day in lockup was always the worst, and I’d needed to watch my back for anyone from the Almas crew that might be in here with me. First thing I needed to do was get a message out to Rogue, and find out who my best bet was for protection, but that wouldn’t happen until at least tomorrow, so until then, I was on my own.

I followed Marcus out of the cell. Within minutes, the place went from subdued to teeming with life—yelling, screaming, and lots of commotion as men made their way into the mess hall. This wasn’t maximum security, and gen pop was overcrowded. I glanced down at my arms. Each proudly displayed full sleeves of tats, but more specifically to the trained eye, they’d see the club tattoo, letting everyone know who I was, and hopefully, not to fuck with me. I was still sore as shit, and I didn’t want to deal with anyone today. I always ran the risk of someone seeing my Raven tat, and using it as an excuse to get at the club, but I was against the wall on this one, and had to hope that respect for the club outweighed any lingering beefs.

I grabbed my tray and fell in line, eyeing the crowd around me. There were a lot of different groups represented; everyone from the gangs of Richmond and Oakland, street gangs, to the Aryans, but no rival MC members stuck out at me. Marcus was in the middle of some story about his old lady when pain exploded in the back of my head, shooting through my face, and running down my neck. I careened into the guy in front of me. In a split second, the entire cafeteria erupted as fists flew. I scrambled to my feet, but not before I took two shots to the kidney, sending blinding pain straight through me. Ignoring it, I whipped around, and slammed my own tray into whoever was hitting me. I was about to go for shot number two on the asshole when the CERT team arrived.

“Everybody down! Now! Hands behind your head. Interlock your fingers. Do it. Now!” There were corrections officers everywhere, armed with tear gas canisters, ready to fire.

I complied, knowing I didn’t want to add time to my sentence, and dropped to my knees, slowly sliding onto my stomach before I laced my fingers behind my head. I turned my head to get a look at the guy who hit me, and saw the tell-tale Las Almas skull tattoo on his neck.

Fuck me. Were those pricks really retaliating for a beat down? And here? I know Rogue or my pops must have talked to El Presidente by now. I couldn’t see him ordering this for a clearly earned beating. No, something else was up, and I needed to put a call into the club to find out what.

If the Almas were trying to start a war, this was going to be a very long ninety days.