Revved Up Soul: A MC Romance (27 page)

The prospect sank in his bike, looking away from the Sheriff now. “Some cop you are,” he said beneath his breath. The air became thick with a nervous electricity, a car rolling slowly by – one of the officers called out to them, instructing them to move along. The officer looking through the ripped toys stopped halfway through, a small lake of fuzz and stuffy innards pooling below at his feet. “It’s clean,” he called out, the dog sniffing through the remains.

It seemed as though Martine did not notice, or did not recognize what his officer had said, instead putting his Taser to the neck of the prospect.

Luke jerked forward and the cop immediately moved to block his person, tendrils of heat worming their way through his person, “Hey!” He called out. “Hey what the fuck are you doing?”

The President stomped closer and called out to the Sheriff as well, but stopped in his tracks when the officer holding the dog pulled out his issued piece.

Swallowing hard, the prospect came to an uneasy stillness.

Freeman bent forward to look the man in his eye, “Go on,” he taunted, “say something, choose your words carefully though.”

Thin sweat laced the prospect’s neck and head, he said nothing.

“Not so funny now is it?” He pulled the Taser from the man’s neck and turned to face Allen and the rest of the MC. “You think I’m the bad guy,” he said, laughing, “but all I see are murderers,” he pointed to Allen, “drunken misfits,” to Luke, “thieves,” to Benny, “I’m tired of cleaning up your messes,” he announced, walking between the bikes – a truck passing on by. “You’re all dead tissue; thinking that you’re helping. I’m gonna do what I should have done a long time ago,” Freeman put his shades back on, stepping over to Allen and looking him in the eye, gesturing with his hand for his men to return to their cars. “Excise you,” he murmured, “cut you away and discard you.”

Allen folded his arms against his chest, “You try this shit again, Martine, and I’ll make sure you regret it.”

He just smiled, waving to the MC and instructing them to be safe before getting in his vehicle. The Knights waited for the sheriff’s goons to depart and got back into position. Luke rolled up to Allen’s side, “Think they hit Gabe too?”

“Call and make sure they didn’t,” the burly man rumbled, “fuckin’ prick’s got too much of a hard-on for us; we can’t slip up, Luke, one mistake and that bastard’s gonna nail us.”

“What? No, this is a
sign
,” Luke pleaded in a harsh whisper, “we cannot keep doing this, we just can’t.”

“We can,” he insisted, “and we will.”

As the Knights hit the road once more, Kayla’s words rang through his mind.

I have no power here, no sway. Allen could
never
be reasoned with.

CHAPTER FORTY

Jasmine

The road gave a strange, hypnotic comfort to Jasmine; she came to a stop and went through her voice-mail. She had one from Alejandra.

“Jasmine. It’s Alejandra, I guess I still can’t get a hold of you; I just wanted to say that I’m deeply sorry for how I acted, that night. Hope that I hear back from you soon . . .”

The words sounded true, but there was something that she did not like about that message – she could make out the faintest voices of boys in the background. She needs to get away from them, Jasmine affirmed. A twist of heat formed in her gut at the thought of her hanging with Los Demonios.

Alejandra wasn’t wrong, Jasmine being with who she was with . . . not communicating with Augustus, she was being hypocritical.

But when she thought of Luke, her whole world became filled with color, vivid colors that she thought she’d never know. Her bones wanted to sing in his presence, her nipples ached when he gave her that look and her womanhood pulsed with need at the thought of being taken by him.

Everywhere that Jasmine looked, she could only see Luke and the shadow of Augustus.

Her phone rang then. Unknown number, that’s weird. Jasmine clicked the phone to life and put it on speaker.

“Jasmine,” Luke said. Wow, he doesn’t sound so good.

“Luke?” She said, “are you okay you sound kind of different.”

“Fine. Just got home. Want to come over?” Very curt, stiff replies . . .

Maybe it was just the phone that he was using, was there a reason he wasn’t using his cell? “Of course,” she said, “I’d love that. I’m on my way now; I’ll see you when I get there I’m on the road right now.”

They said their goodbyes and Jasmine clicked her phone off, turning into a corner store parking lot, readjusting her GPS and heading back onto the road. Minutes passed and her fuel light blinked and beeped to life. Slightly annoyed, she drove for another couple of minutes before rolling into a gas station and calling back the number that Luke had rang her from.

No answer.

Maybe he jumped in the shower or something? It didn’t have a voicemail setup. Jasmine scrolled through her contacts and called up his cell – still no answer.

“It’s Luke. If you’re sellin’ I’m not buyin’. You know what to do.”

Jasmine left a short voicemail, letting the man know that she stopped for gas and was simply wondering if he would like anything on her way to his place. She got out of her rav4 and sauntered up to the store in an almost feline fashion; she felt good, she felt sexy and alive and well.

She would pick up a sixer and have a nightcap with the man that made her soar.

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

Luke

Gabriel had reported that everything went smoothly on his end; even if things went less than ideal for Luke’s convoy. There was a gnawing sensation in the pit of his stomach, the hot licks of anger rising through the whole of his person.

He’d waited long enough.

The convoy came to a stop outside the sequestered clubhouse, killing their engines and getting off of their bikes one by one. Several other motorcycles were already parked.

Looks like Gabriel’s back already, Luke noted. His throat felt tight and hot when he eyed Robert’s bike. He suddenly became very aware of Able’s ring.

As the men started going inside, Allen was dragging behind the lot – so Luke went over to him and called out his name.

The beast of a man turned to face Luke, “Yeah?”

“There’s something that we need to talk about,” Luke’s eyes were dire; his whole body felt fully alive with the seductive electricity of something primal within.

Allen screwed up his face, revealing the many hard lines of his face. “Don’t leave me hangin’ in suspense,” he said. “If it’s about the guns—“

“No,” he interrupted, exhaling a hard breath – it wasn’t easy to look the man in the eye. “It’s about Able.”

The President’s face darkened, “Tell me some good news,” he growled. If there was one thing about the man that Luke did admire, it was his gusto, his eagerness to deliver a vengeance unto those that killed his brother in arms, his right-hand man, and his godson. Inside, Luke could hear the rocking riffs from the Jukebox booming.

That made it so much harder to say the words, so much harder to broach the subject – Luke didn’t want to believe it, but the only clue they had, the only thing that they’ve ever had to go on pointed to him. That was when Benny and Robert came outside.

Luke and Allen craned their heads to look at the men. Robert’s face was badly bruised and he looked like trash. Benny was at his side, the look of surprise and awkwardness etched on the lines of his face.

Allen glanced back at Luke, and then back to Robert.

Breaking the silence, Benny said, “Uh, we’ve got a problem, Prez.” No shit Sherlock.

Laughing dryly, Robert replied, “Yeah I’ll fucking say,” he elbowed Benny, pushing him over a half step, he then looked right at Luke and gestured with his head, “Luke here laid some god damn pipe on me, go on and weasel out of this you prick,” Robert pulled back his lips and opened his mouth, two bottom teeth missing from his yellow set. His voice didn’t sound quite right, like every word must have been painful to utter. Luke didn’t internally deny his satisfaction at this.

Allen slowly turned back to Luke, the quiet storm beneath the veneer of his face. “Inside,” he growled, “now!” You don’t have anything to fear, he reminded, you were in the right. You were in the right . . . weren’t you?

The four made their way into the clubhouse where the music was playing raucously and the drinks were coming hard and fast. It’d been fuller than Luke had seen it in months; there were even a couple of skeevy women that he didn’t recognize. Prospects must be bringing them in.

Moving to the center of the room, Allen called out in a rough boom, “Alex, Gabriel, D.W, plant your asses in the War Room or I’ll yank you by your goddamned short and curlies.” He turned his head over to Benny, his voice a deathly susurrate, “you too. Don’t you act like such a little bitch next time, you hear me?”

Benny’s adam’s apple bobbed and he shook his head.

One by one, the Knights seated themselves in their rightful places at the great round table, Gabriel shutting the door behind them and finding his chair last. He brushed back a strand of his hair and looked Luke dead in the eye; Luke’s chest burned and his fingers dug hard into his chair, if he was going to have anyone on his side here – Gabriel would be his man. The table became alight with whispers and stares and judgements.

With a great rumble, Allen’s fist crashed against his end of the table and the Knights jerked in response, perking up in their seats and listening in rapt attention. He was not smiling, Luke noted. “You,” he jabbed a finger in Luke’s direction, “you’ve got one,” he raised a finger, “minute to explain yourself.”

Robert immediately protested, “D- why does he get to go first?” He practically whined, “look at me!” He laughed, pointing to the glaring wound on his face.

Allen only raised a hand in his son’s direction, shutting the traitor up.

Leaning forward, Luke placed his hands together, searching his President’s furious eyes. “We’ve been sweating and sweating people for weeks now. And we keep hearing the same thing, over and over; that nobody knows
shit
about what went down.”

Gabriel nodded his head in agreement.

Raising his head to the sky and taking a breath, Luke felt heat pulse through his body as all eyes focused on him. “So when I got word from a trusted source—“

Robert scoffed openly and Allen intruded with, “What source.”

“Someone who was there when Able died,” I can’t let them know it was Jasmine, they’ll just use that against me.

“
Who
,” Allen repeated, the words resonating deeply from his barrel chest.

“From a nurse that I know, she hooked me up with the Oxycottons that we needed,” he glared at Robert. “She’s good people, just needed some extra money to get by with her kids.”

“You stickin’ this piece, huh?”

“
Yeah
, I was – you know how I am. Hit it and quit it. How else am I supposed to get them to break the fucking law?”

Allen raised his chin as the Knights shifted in their respective seats; Daniel-Wilson Galavante was staring particularly hard at Luke.

“As I was saying – she told me that she heard Able say something before he passed. That he kept repeating ‘shouldn’t have trusted chains’ or something like that. Something to that effect.”

From the corner of his vision, Luke could make out that Gabriel’s eyes widened just a bit.

Robert leaned back in his chair, shaking his head in bisbelief.

Allen’s brows raised half an inch, “That’s it?”

“That’s it. Why would Able say that? I mean – why, why the hell haven’t we found
anything
? It can’t just be some god damn coincidence that he talked about his callsign for Christ’s sake.”

D.W spoke his turn then, “You attacked a brother without approaching the board, on a fool’s whim? You’re dead to me, son. No true Knight would do that,” he scowled, “I knew Allen shouldn’t have taken you in.” Screw yourself, D.W.

Luke closed his eyes a moment, raked a hand through his hair and sighed, “Like I said . . . I trust this contact, I believe what she told me. I believe that Able wouldn’t just say what he said without some kind of meaning to it.”

Allen let out a deep grumble from his chest, “I’ve heard enough,” he announced, his eyes darting over to his son. “Go on,” he rolled his hand through the air, “be quick about it.”

Gabriel turned his head to the left, looking down at the floor – seemingly distracted by something; what exactly Luke could not tell. Robert began recounting his night, and how Luke had broken into his residence and wrecked his television, scared away his – almost undoubtedly – prostitutes, and bashed his face in with a crowbar. The judging looks upon Luke only became worse after having heard the VP’s side of things.

Releasing a long breath through his nose, Allen brought his iron gaze back to Luke, an uncomfortable silence filling the tense room; it seemed to drag on forever, the way that the man stared was enough to practically feel the noose already. “I want you to think about this, Luke,” he stated, “either way, I’m calling a vote on your punishment, and you know that, yeah?” He leaned forward, his arms folded against the table. “Do you
really
think that Robert killed your brother? Killed a good man, a loyal soldier – and a man that he broke bread with, under our own home for most of his youth?”